The Flames of Thotus: Dreams

The doors to the wagon were thrusted open, the armored bodies of infantrymen flooded out like running water, screeching and thundering roars of fury. Termus couldn't even collect his thoughts to process what was happening. He had been pounding on the back of the wagon for what felt like hours, and now he was lying face-down on the ground, nearly getting trampled by all the soldiers. He scurried to his feet, his sword and sheath dangling from his waist. Luckily, he remembered to carry it with him this time.

He didn't care where he was or what was around him. Gnove and Polly must have poured out of that wagon by now, but he couldn't find them in the chaotic sea of shining silver armor. Armor...he thought. Wait! We're all not wearing any. We are in enemy territory and none of us are wearing any protection.

He needed to find Gnove, and fast. He ripped his sword from its sheath and began scanning desperately for Polly's hat, hoping it would stand out as much as it had before. It wasn't until a gleam of light reflected in the distance that he let his eyes wander a bit. They were in the middle of a large circular street, with alleys and roads branching every-which direction. All of them made of large chunks of cobblestone. The houses that surrounded them were ornate in decoration, dark and polished, boasting intricate design and carpentry. Termus had never seen blackwood before, aside from the trees that composed the Grey Forest. It was used so expertly here that even the mansions in Handiil paled in comparison. Red-roofed and elegant, the swirling patterns on the wood looked like something out of a book. But here it was, right in front of him.

It wasn't long before he noticed there was no ash covering anything. Just outside, the ash permeated everything. But here, not even a speck or smear to be seen. And that caused him to look up. The imposing walls encircled them, reaching higher than he had ever seen, higher than the clouds themselves. Wait, he thought. The whole city is completely surrounded by one circular wall?

Are these walls able to block out the ash? He asked himself. No... That's not possible. They would have to be as high as the atmosphere itself to do that. I can't even fathom the idea. What was the Legion thinking, waging war on a place like this?

He continued scanning the area. A hill rose up from the ground behind all the houses. Imposing was really the only way Termus knew how to describe it. The one road leading up it was a pure pitch black, winding its way to two large blackwood doors.

"Woah," Termus said aloud, his brother's search dancing out of his thoughts.

And there it was, the palace. Seemingly made of the same black stone, this monstrosity sat perched far above everything but the walls themselves. It was too far away for Termus to make out the intricate details, but from where he was, it was easy to see several of its towers, each carving into the air like black spikes.

He felt uneasy just setting his eyes upon the place. The fear of it growing larger and swallowing him whole was more than enough to force him to avert his eyes back to the infantry. A fountain sat at the center of the common's, the infantrymen swarming around it with their swords and hammers, all pointing them toward the multiple roads that sprawled out away from them. The fountain was made of the same black material. With its intricate and layered detail, it fit right in to the dwellings it was surrounded by. The statue atop the fountain was of a man, its hair pulled high into a high knot, a long, flowing beard tied the same. Its face was sharp and angular, yet its eyes contrasted, soft and compassionate. His tender eyes did not take away from the prestige this statue exuded. It added to it, he noticed. He stood tall and firm, draped in heavily layered clothing, sewn to perfection with strange symbols or letters written in. It gleamed and glistened like silk due to the perfect layer of polish. Its broad shoulders stood, an arm outstretched, hand open, facing toward the sky. The black, unmoving stone made it difficult to tell, but it almost looked as if he were holding a tiny flame in the palm of his hand.

"Where are they?" A soldier called out from the crowd. Termus wanted to look away from the statue but he just couldn't. Something about that tiny flame really seized his attention. He knew that his brother was still missing, he knew they would be under attack any minute now, yet he just didn't want to look away.

Somewhere in the ocean of soldiers, an officer yelled. "They're here somewhere! Get your asses in gear and start searching for them!"

Soldiers began scuttling in all directions, confused murmurs whirling around the fountain. But Termus could not seem to move. Silence had fallen upon the commons as his eyes lingered on that small, stone flame. He felt himself leaning forward, eyes fixated, until a slew of small, flickering lights pulled his gaze and darted across the sky.

There were hundreds of them. Little balls of flickering orange light shimmered and dashed the sky, hanging only for a second before dropping from above, coming ever closer.

"ARROWS!" Someone called. "Protect the—BLEH!"

The hell rained down, whizzing directly into the heart of the infantry. Panicked screams cried out. The soldiers were scattering mice, scurrying away from the center of the fountain. One of them whizzed by Termus' ear. His heart skipped a beat as he fumbled his sword free. He wasn't even thinking anymore. His body moved as if on instinct alone. He tucked himself up against the back of the wagon wheel, hoping it would give him an angle against the falling arrows. He had never seen arrows that had been lit on fire. He sure as hell didn't want to take one of them though.

Then he saw something else come barreling through the sky. A large, grey stone hurled itself over the wagons, above the street and back toward the city walls. CRASH! It landed right in front of the blackwood doors, spewing debris and dust in every direction. He heard nothing but the crackling of stone chunks pittering and pattering against the ground. His heart hastened as he came to the realization.

They were prepared for us, he thought. Now we're corralled in here. I have to find Gnove and Polly. The screams of his fellow soldiers spiraled around him from all directions. He couldn't bear to listen to it. He peered out inch by inch from behind the wagon and up to the sky as the last cluster of arrows fell. Now was his chance! He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and sped out, away from the wagon and into the sea of soldiers. More than half of them were lying under an ocean of arrows, some wedged deep into the ground, some even deeper into flesh. He tried to avert his eyes, but everywhere he looked, he just couldn't avoid the bodies. He peered toward the palace, to a heightened wall and quickly counted at least a hundred archers, all standing firm above them, ready to fire again.

Thud, thud, thud. The streets around him were rumbling so much he could feel the ground shaking with every slam. What was that? He didn't have time to find out. He kicked and swayed his feet around the bodies, pushing panicking soldiers aside, still scanning desperately for Gnove. Please don't let him be one of the ones that got hit, he thought. No, no way. Gnove was always so good at dodging. I'm sure he could dart between them with ease. Right now, he could only hope.

He approached one of the roads leading away from the commons, swung his head around the building and prayed to the gods to find his brother.

"Oh shit," he felt himself say aloud. He could see a dust cloud rumbling toward him from the street. A silhouette of small spears and swords jetted out of the dust like a sea urchin, the screams of mad men following.

"EVERYONE," Termus screamed. "THEY'RE AMBUSHING US FROM THE—"

His yells fell silent as he felt an arm wrap around his neck and a hand cover his mouth. Within a sharp and sudden instant, he couldn't breathe. He could feel his whole body being lifted up off the ground. He was kicking his legs, trying to reach the man behind him, but to no avail. His hand reached into his cloak pocket, sliding out that silver handle again. He twirled the gun upside down to aim it behind him, using his thumb to grip the trigger.

BANG! The gun went flying, twisting his thumb along with it. "AGHHH," he yelled. His thumb was searing, the swelling that followed instant and immediate. But it worked. He felt the assassin's body sink back as his feet touched the ground again, the man reeling backward. Termus spun around to get a look at his assailant but he saw nothing but black.

Black from head to toe. The man grunted in pain but the sound was muffled by a black facemask, the likes of which Termus had never seen before. It covered everything but his sleek, narrowed eyes. Fires had begun to spread through the commons and dot the floor with orange flickers. But even so, it was still hard to see the man. He hadn't heard him approach either. Who are these people?

Slick as silk, the man unsheathed his narrow sword from its holster. SHING! The blade was long and thin, glistening orange against the fiery ground. Termus held his breath, his sword gripped tight against his palm. The man stared apprehensively, holding his bleeding stomach. He's dying and he's still willing to fight? Termus thought.

He had to remember his training. He might not have proper experience like this man seemed to, but he does have the advantage. He's grievously wounded, he thought. And one clean slice should do him in.

Without a word, the shadowed man glided across the ground with deadly grace, his sword tip hovering mere inches above the stone. Termus raised his own blade to block.

CLANG! Termus could see the fire in his sharp eyes, glaring a ferocious instinct back at him, still not saying a word. He could taste the sweat trickling into his mouth as he gritted his teeth, just barely able to stand his ground. He could feel every thump of his heart bashing against his ribcage, each pulse pushing harder.

Okay, this is it, he said to himself, trying to focus his thoughts. No Cold Days, no training session. This is the real thing. I could die here, one misstep, one fumble and it's over.

The man continued his precise slashes, Termus barely managing to stave off each. He couldn't get a swing in. He did nothing but defend against each thrust.

He felt the blade graze his unarmored chest, tearing his shirt and slicing him clean across the torso. He hardly noticed the blood dripping down from his shallow cut, the searing pain only a minor nuisance to him. He found himself...smiling? But why? he thought in between narrow dodges and blocks. He knew he was dancing with death. He knew one small slip would end him for good. Yet he couldn't help but feel exhilarated at each thrust he blocked. His heart was racing, his eyes darting back and forth, searching for openings. This isn't like training at all. Was he...having fun? He had forgotten about his brother, about the dust cloud of enemy soldiers that poured into the commons. Nothing else mattered but them two.

He started to see brief openings in the man's form. A swing far too wide, a step too far forward. He began pushing back, trying to take any opportunity he had to break the man's assault until...

SPLAT! He felt spatters of blood spray across his face. The man stopped and buckled backward, gripping his stomach with his hand. He was in pain. But Termus was too lost in the moment to notice. He seized the opportunity. Still with a grin, he lunged forward, flipped the sword to his left arm, and sliced with a clean upward swing. The man dropped his blade and yelled out in pain, a high pitch shriek sliding across the ground. Termus had cut him from his waist, up through his wound and clean across his shoulder. It was over.

The screams had halted, random parts of the man's body twitching on the ground. Termus felt a damp cloud fill him as he began coming down from his high. What did I just do? He thought. Fear began swallowing him, his bloody sword arm jittery and unsure. The red liquid oozed on the ground, spreading as slow as molasses, finding its way between the cracks of the cobblestone.

Why is the body still twitching? He stood unnerved, questioning his decision. He didn’t want to walk toward the convulsing corpse, but this desire kept pushing his legs forward. I need to at least see the face of the person I just killed, he thought. He removed the man's facemask and saw its soft, puffy face lying flat on the stone, mouth agape, its large brown eyes wide with regret and tears.

Without thinking, he faltered back a few steps, dropping the black mask on the ground. "I didn't mean..." he said aloud, voice shaking. "A girl?" She was no older than Termus was himself. "I'm—I'm—I'm really—"

He couldn't seem to manage the word sorry from his mouth. What has he done? Sorry wasn't going to be enough to bring her back. Wait, he thought. Maybe she wasn't actually dead. Maybe she's just unconscious and she'll wake up in a few hours. The gravity tugged on the back of his spine, sinking him lower and lower into his own well of emotion. He clung to that thought as he squeezed his eyes closed, stabilized his grip, and spun around to run back toward the fountain.

Why did it feel so different with the tribesman I killed? He thought, trying to rationalize every emotion he felt with conscious thought, like he always did. Who am I kidding? She's dead.

CLANG, CLANG. The soldiers roared and screamed, waves of men flailing their weapons around. The flaming arrows had stopped, but in their place, hordes of strange looking warriors flooded the commons. They were strange, foreign and ornate, their giant armor gliding around their body in metal layers, scaled in texture, red and black in color. He had seen a few of them scattered along the road on the way in.

A few of them must have noticed him standing just on the perimeter of the mob and charged their way toward him. He counted three in total. One heavily armored, two in black, layered leather. Those two should go down with ease, he thought. Termus held up his sword as they barreled in, the heavy one first.

Okay, they're all men, he thought. I can't lose my composure now. He ducked beneath the giant hammer that was coming his way, slid behind the armored one and within the instant, took advantage of their momentary shock. He swiped his leg across the ground, tripping the leathered one to his left and...

"AGHHHHH!!!" The man screamed. Termus had jammed the sword deep into his spine as he lay face down, flailing his arms and legs helplessly. The man had dropped his sword, the thin blade waiting with an undying patience to be picked up again. He yanked his sword out of the man as quick as he could and spun around. For a brief second, he could see a blunt weapon swinging toward him, but it was too late.

He was smashed back, his shoulder throbbing in pain, but he never lost his footing. The foreign blade lay on the ground next to him, beckoning and calling. "Please use me," Termus felt it say. He picked it up with his free hand and pointed both blades toward the remaining two men.

He gritted his teeth, took a deep breath and narrowed his gaze. "Fuck my training, let's go," he said to them, raising both blades. They felt so comfortable in his hands, like each arm was an extension of himself, each meant to be wielding a blade. The smell of blood and smoke tainted his nose as he exhaled, a calming sense of serenity flowing over him. THUD! He hardly noticed the insane vibrations of the ground as heavy footfalls smashed around him.

"NO!" A voice called above the chaos. "POLLY! PLEASE, STOP! PUT HIM DOWN!"

The voice broke his concentration, an immediate snap back to reality. He canvassed the area again, but this time, he didn't have to look far. High pitched screeches floated above the crowd and then... He saw it: a man. Only, it wasn't a man. It stood an easy fifteen feet above the swarm of soldiers. Topless and scarred, it towered above even the fountain, holding something between its outrageously large hands. It was a boy with a small, brown cap.

Is that a giant? Termus thought. They have giants?! He darted away, making a break for them.

He could hear Gnove's voice calling out, desperate and shaken. "STOP!! PLEASE!! PUT HIM DOWN RIGHT NOW!"

As Termus approached, he could see his brother grappling at the giant's leg, his face distorted in anguish. He sobbed in uncontrolled desperation, trying to yank the behemoth to the ground.

Time seemed to slow down for Termus as he ran, helpless to the fact that he knew he wasn't going to make it in time. The battlefield quieted in his ears, the smells of smoke vanished and all the soldiers seemed to disappear in front of him. The giant slowly moved both hands to envelop the shrieking boy, muffling his screams. Termus stopped in his tracks, frozen in time. It pained him to watch the boy flail his legs back and forth, but for some reason, he wasn't able to look away. The giant grunted as both of its arms twisted in opposite directions, ripping the boy clean in half at the waist. His muffled screams faded to nothing.

Gnove had stopped yelling. He said nothing as a waterfall of blood and flesh rained on him from above. He didn't even move out of the way. He just stood there, letting it wash over him, eyes frozen.

Termus sped up, racing as fast as he could. The mob had cleared away from the giant, giving him an opening to get in close.

"What are you doing, Gnove?" Termus yelled. "Get away from it!" He was almost there. With both swords in hand, he darted around the giant's backside.

BOOM! The two halves of Polly's body slammed the ground in front of Gnove. But his brother didn't flinch. He stood transfixed, his eyes filled with utter horror, staring speechless at the mangled body of his friend.

"GET OUT OF THERE," Termus yelled louder. But his brother didn't seem to notice at all. "Dammit, Gnove, wake the fuck up!"

The giant must have not noticed him as he ran up to the back of its leg. He squatted slightly, sprung himself into the air and leaped as high as he could. Both of his hands were blades as he carved them into the back of the giant's knee, as deep as he could possibly slice. With all his might, he forced the blades forward, slashing across both of its tendons, showering himself in blood in the process. His injured shoulder throbbed in pain but he brushed it aside. He almost lost his footing as the giant staggered forward, but he planted one foot firmly against its calve and kicked off, forcing the blades out of its skin. As he landed, he felt a boom as the giant stammered to its knee.

"One more," he said to himself. He jumped up again, pointing the sharp edges of his blades against its left knee. This time, he did lose his footing. He slipped down after only making a shallow cut, the giant bellowing out booming screams. Its voice was so deep, it pained his ears to be this close to it. He was lucky to land on his feet, but his body was hurting from the impact. But he did it. The giant had smashed into the ground next to them, just narrowly missing his brother as it fell.

"GNOVE, WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!" Termus ignored the pain tingling through his body and sprinted between the giant's legs. His brother was still standing there, a blank stare fixated at Polly's two halves. Termus didn't even want to look at it so he grabbed his brother's shoulders.

"Snap out of it! We're going to die if we don't move!"

But Gnove wasn't responding. He stood a still gravestone on the battlefield, eyes dark and frozen. He's wasn't even looking back at Termus. He wasn't even looking anywhere. Just looking. Termus almost questioned if he was even breathing at this point.

The giant grumbled and began stirring, the ground vibrating as it moved. It seemed more annoyed than injured. From around his flank, he heard the sound of swords and men dancing ever closer. Yelling wasn't working, so he reached out and slapped his brother clear across the face. "WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!"

Gnove was still clenching tight to Polly's dagger, but his limbs stayed motionless. Drip, drip, drip. Polly's blood plopped off his body one small drop at a time. Termus let out a frustrated cry and snagged up his brother's shirt collar, his fingers nearly slipping from the sweat and blood soaking it. His yelling and screaming surely wasn't helping the situation so despite his mind a frantic stupor, he lowered his voice and blurted out the first thing he could think of. "Come on, buddy. I know you're in there. We'll figure this mess out soon but right now we have to go."

Gnove's facial expression remained engraved, but his feet began moving, one lifeless clunk after another. Termus would have dragged him by the shirt if he had to, but instead, he clasped his brother's hand with a gentle reassurance and started running, leaving the lumbering giant to turn and crush someone else under its heavy fist.

So, he ran with Gnove in tow, his emotionless clunks of steps making it difficult to pull. His immediate thought was to make a dash for the city gates, visible only a few blocks away. But the exit sat buried behind giant heaps of rubble and sediment.

Shit, he thought. Anywhere, anywhere but here. I need to get him away from this carnage. Dying men's screams dashed about in the air, bodies piling up around him. A cluster of yelling men blocked his path, all daubed blood red. A few took notice of his reckless charge toward them and readied their weapons. But he didn't think twice about rushing them head on.

"OUTTA MY WAY!" He yelled, unsheathing his sword with his free arm and stabbing straight ahead into the chaotic crowd. Nagerian warriors, Legion soldiers, he didn't care who he had to slice. He needed to get his brother to safety and that's all that he knew.

He felt a few slashes graze him during the chaotic mess, but his adrenaline would not allow him to stop now. Using only one hand, he snarled his way through the clump of bodies. A few of them buckled and within half a second, he was barreling past them, refusing to look back.

He picked a street branching away from the commons and darted down it, still clutching to his brother's hand like a father to his child. Gnove's pacing was getting worse as Termus found it harder and harder to force his brother to keep up. He turned a corner at what he assumed to be a safe distance away from the commons and found himself sprinting down a narrow street of grey cobblestone. One of these modest looking houses should make a perfect place to tuck Gnove away for a bit, he thought. I just hope no one is inside any of these. As he ran, he noticed a man sitting against a black stone wall, his silver-plated armor shining and spotless. His helmet lay on the ground next to him, the man squeezing both hands against his head. And draped on his back, flowing in a lazy dread onto the ground was...a white cloak.

Termus stopped in his tracks and started down at the man. "You're an officer, aren't you?"

The man hardly seemed to notice. He just rocked back and forth, squeezing his head and whimpering incoherent words. Next to him sat a small brown box with tubes and wires wrapping in and out of the contraption.

He squatted down and let out a loud sigh. "I know," he said, patting the man on the back. "I'm in the same situation you are."

The cowering man looked up, twisting his brow in confusion. "Huh?" He said.

"We're all struggling to get through this. It's horrible."

The man nodded, a simple motion of thoughtlessness, still rocking to and fro. "Marley, he—he didn't even have his weapon ready yet—"

"Listen," Termus said, forcing a smile onto his face. "You can't stay out here, okay? Why don't you go try to find a building to hide in?"

"Yeah," he said. "That's good. Good call. Finding building. Good, good. Yeah."

"Is that one of those radio things?" Termus said, pointing to the brown box on the ground.

"Yes. R—Radio, for calling. Finding building." The man stood up, his face as expressionless as Gnove's and staggered off, a lifeless drone. He continued to mumble to himself until the voice faded, leaving Termus to stare at the strange brown box sitting on the ground.

So, this is a radio, he thought. He had no idea how to operate it but he had heard that it's used for speaking to someone who's not near you. It was a necessary tool for officers to use to issue and receive commands. Which means this should be linked up to the command post.

"Look Gnove!" He said, holding up the box and smiling. "We can radio Frank to have him help us. Why don't we hide in one of these building until he shows up?"

But Gnove wasn't looking. He stared off into nothing, still drenched from head to toe in Polly's blood. Termus was trying everything to keep his brother distracted, forcing his own pain out of his mind. He had taken multiple wounds, the majority of them shallow and inconsequential but that wasn't the pain he could feel tearing at him. Despite how hard he tried to push the thoughts away, they stayed glued to the front of his mind. The image of Polly's being ripped in half unnerved him to the core.

He snatched up Gnove's hand and dragged him into the nearest building: a stone dwelling with a sloppy straw roof. Termus didn't even check if the door was unlocked as he smashed the handle with his foot, blasting the door open.

He stormed his way into the house, hoping no one was inside. He knew he wouldn't have the clarity to deal with an innocent family right now. What would he even do if he was confronted with an angry father? He was a killer now, after all.

Gnove hobbled in before turning and shutting the door, still staring at nothing. Clunk. The sound echoed through the house as Termus held his breath, keeping his ears sharp for any noise or movement. He had his sword sheathed but he held the hilt like an anxious rabbit listening for predators, almost expecting the need to rip it free at any moment. Can't let my guard down yet, he thought.

Damp was the only word to describe the place. It held a silent sense of murk, stifling Gnove's footsteps as he hobbled over to a chair and nearly fell down trying to sit in it. The house wasn't very well lit due to the large panes of blackwood nailed over the windows. It carried with it an odd smell of oil, not pleasing to his nose, but not quite displeasing either.

After a few more seconds for good luck, he let go of his hilt and let out an exhaustive sigh. He had not had the time to fully collect himself since the fight so he decided that before he called the command tent, he would sit down and take a few seconds to recuperate.

Polly's insides fell from the giant, smattering Gnove with red paint and chunks of flesh.

Dammit, he thought. I can't get it out of my head. That's when he noticed Gnove sitting across from him, swaying back and forth. His lips were moving but whatever he was saying wasn't coming out. He hadn't even looked at Termus since the incident.

"Gnove," Termus said, his solemn voice rising just above a whisper. "You idiot." A singular tear rolled down his cheek. He buried his face in his palms as he thought about how many times his brother could have died. The soldier's cries outside had been muffled by the house walls, but the damp air of what had transpired was still a noose tightening against his throat.

BSHHHHHH! He jumped at the deafening sound coming from next to him, almost toppling over his chair. "What the hell?"

The small brown box on the ground was oscillating, the empty tubes on the device now filling with a bright yellow liquid, illuminating the area around it. He regained his composure as quick as he could and snatched it up. He tore off the corded receiver as quick as he could. Please be command post, he thought.

He didn't recognize the male voice that called out from the box. "Infantry General Reeds?"

Termus hesitated for a second before speaking. He lowered his voice in an attempt to disguise it. "Ahem—Who is this?"

"How dare you speak to your Councilor like that! Is this Infantry General Reeds or not?"

Yes! He had reached the Councilor's themselves. "No. I’m sorry, this is Termus, Frank's orphan. We have a huge problem here. Gnove and I are inside the city and we can't get out."

No one replied. He heard shuffling and mumbling on the other end. The static made it hard to tell what was being said. It felt like forever before the voice began speaking again.

"This is Councilor Van'Ghuul. What is going on in there? Did the plan work?"

Plan? What plan? "No, I don't think so, they were prepared for us. They slaughtered the majority of us, they blocked the exit with rubble, they were waiting for us to walk into their ambush."

Again, silence. Then, Van'Ghuul spoke in a hastened voice. "Yeah, we already knew they were planning an ambush. Hold on, Frank wants to speak to you."

What did he mean they already knew? They sent the infantry in knowing they'd be slaughtered?

"Termus!" A familiar voice said on the machine. "Thank goodness you're okay. Is your brother still there?"

"Yeah, but he's in shock. What the hell is going on? He said they knew there was going to be an ambush?"

"Well, you see, there's a really good reason for it," Frank said after a long pause.

Termus grinded his teeth together, the rage boiling just under his skin. He roped himself in, speaking through gritted teeth. "So, you're telling me the Legion sent these men to their graves on purpose?"

No reply. Termus was squeezing the receiver so tight, he could feel the fragile metal crackling under his grip. "Frank! You better be joking or something."

"You don't understand. It was a necessity."

"A NECESSITY?" Termus launched himself up off the chair, stretching the radio cord as far as it could go. "YOU'RE TELLING ME POLLY GETTING RIPPED IN HALF BY A GIANT AND SENDING GNOVE INTO SHOCK WAS A NECESSITY?"

"Don't you DARE speak to me that way. Not here, boy. And who the hell is Polly?"

Termus struggled to form a cohesive word out his garble of furious mumblings. He hardly noticed his shaky hands clenching tight, the metal receiver buckling under the pressure. He sighed and forced himself calm. "You better have a full squadron of officers come in here get us out. I don't care how it's done."

"You know I can't do that right now. The situation is..." He paused for longer than Termus had wanted. "Complicated. The other team needs to finish the mission first. Wherever you are, just hold tight. I personally promise we'll get you out. By the Gods, boys...Why did you have to make such a horrendous blunder?"

Termus didn't feel like explaining himself anymore. He had already been through enough today. He just wanted to get out of this nightmare. He didn't say a word and was about to hang up when a voice called out from the half-damaged receiver.

"Termus, did you say your name was?" It said. Someone had taken the radio from Frank.

"Um... Who's this?"

A low, but seething voice spoke. "This is Councilor Nex, the head Councilor and Divine of the Legion itself. Now, I will speak and you had best listen well."

The head Councilor, he thought. Why would the most valuable man in the Legion show up just a mile away from the city gates? That horrible black wolf's mask was quick to stamp itself into his mind, its red eyes piercing through his soul like claws through flesh.

"I don't care what silly game you thought you were playing when you snuck into the fodder. I don't care what compelled you and your sibling to run amok in the city. Well I hope you had your fun."

Termus could feel the man smiling on the other end of the receiver. "You two have blatantly disobeyed orders directly from your elite superiors. You will not be returning to this command post now, or ever again. You were just caught screaming at a Councilor, you deserted your post and now you're hiding in a building somewhere in the city, like cowards who abandoned their fellow soldiers. As such, I am officially labeling you deserters of the Legion. Good luck making it home on your own, boys."

Termus' heart sunk deep into his stomach. Even Gnove turned his head. "Wait, please! Gnove needs help. Don't do this."

Click, bshhhhhh. The static filled the damp room as Termus was left staring at the crinkled receiver, water welling up in his eyes.

"AGHHHHHH!" He screamed, picking up the entire box and hurling it as hard as he could against the wall. It blew apart with force, the yellow liquid inside now coating the falling chunks of radio. The static faded into nothing, leaving the boys alone in the damp room, surrounded by silence.