Chapter Two
1135 Words
The eastern cliffs caught the first light of morning long before it reached the Ashen Vale.
High above the gray valley, where sheer walls of stone shielded the city from the western winds, Oakhaven stirred to life beneath banners of silver and deep blue. Unlike the blackened forts scattered across the front, the capital still carried traces of beauty. White limestone walls climbed the mountainside in graceful terraces, while narrow bridges arched over rushing streams fed by snowmelt from the northern peaks.
At the city's highest point stood the Temple of Luna-Regina.
Its polished dome reflected the fading moon, the symbol every citizen believed watched over Oakhaven with unwavering purity.
From childhood, every son and daughter learned the same sacred oath.
"The moon sees all. The moon forgets nothing."
For Aurelia Cassian, those words were not merely tradition.
They were purpose.
She tightened the leather strap around her wrist before slinging her longbow across her shoulder. Her dark cloak blended naturally with the rocky landscape, and every movement carried the quiet confidence of someone who had spent years surviving where others had failed.
She preferred silence.
Silence revealed truths that conversation often concealed.
The eastern watchtower overlooked the Ashen Vale nearly five hundred feet below. The gray wasteland stretched endlessly toward the distant western horizon, where the crimson banners of Aethelgard fluttered like faint stains against the ash-filled sky.
"They're awake already."
The voice belonged to Captain Rowan, commander of Oakhaven's frontier scouts.
He handed Aurelia a bronze spyglass.
She raised it without a word.
Across the valley, tiny figures moved along the walls of Fort Blackstone. Soldiers assembled in neat formations before an altar barely visible from such a distance.
"Their morning prayer," Rowan muttered.
"They never miss it."
Aurelia lowered the glass.
"Neither do we."
Rowan nodded.
"No."
Both armies prayed.
Both armies believed heaven favored only them.
Both armies buried their dead beneath different symbols while whispering almost identical promises of eternal victory.
Neither side ever questioned why the gods demanded so much blood.
A temple bell echoed across the cliffs.
Morning devotion had begun.
Hundreds of soldiers gathered before a silver altar carved with the crescent emblem of Luna-Regina. Priestesses dressed in pale robes lit fragrant incense that drifted into the crisp mountain air.
The High Oracle stepped forward.
"The Pure Queen watches."
The soldiers answered together.
"And we remain faithful."
"The faithless stand below."
"They shall vanish."
"The Sacred War continues."
"Until cleansing."
The ceremony ended with every soldier placing an open hand over the heart instead of striking armor as the western armies did.
Different gesture.
Same conviction.
Aurelia completed the ritual without hesitation.
Unlike many older veterans, she still believed.
Her father had fallen in battle before she learned to walk.
Her elder brother had disappeared during a winter campaign.
Her mother often reminded her that their sacrifices ensured Oakhaven's survival.
Hatred had never been taught loudly in their household.
It had simply existed, as natural as the moon above them.
Captain Rowan broke the silence.
"You're leading today's reconnaissance."
"How many?"
"Eight scouts."
She accepted the sealed orders.
"Our destination?"
"The Broken Arch."
She paused.
"The western ruins?"
Rowan studied her carefully.
"Observers reported unusual lights during the night."
Aurelia's expression barely changed.
"Campfires?"
"No."
"What then?"
"We don't know."
She tucked the parchment beneath her cloak.
"We'll find out."
As the captain departed, another figure approached from the temple steps.
High Priestess Selene.
Age had bent her shoulders but not her gaze.
Her silver robes brushed softly against the stone as she stopped beside Aurelia.
"You've walked the Vale many times."
"I have."
"Does it still frighten you?"
Aurelia answered honestly.
"Yes."
Selene smiled faintly.
"Good."
The old woman rested one hand upon the stone railing overlooking the valley.
"Only fools cease fearing places soaked with grief."
For several moments they watched the wind carry ash across the plains below.
Finally the priestess spoke again.
"Have you ever wondered why the enemy hates us?"
Aurelia frowned slightly.
"The Holy Records tell us."
"They do."
"And is that not enough?"
Selene did not answer immediately.
Instead she looked toward the distant west where the morning haze concealed most of Aethelgard.
"I've read many copies of the Holy Records," she murmured.
"Some are older than others."
Aurelia turned.
"I don't understand."
The priestess simply smiled again.
"Perhaps one day you will."
Before Aurelia could ask another question, Selene bowed her head and continued toward the temple.
The conversation lingered in Aurelia's thoughts longer than she expected.
The High Priestess had never spoken carelessly.
If she hinted at something...
There had to be a reason.
An hour later, eight mounted scouts rode through Oakhaven's eastern gate before circling south toward the winding trail descending into the Ashen Vale.
Their horses stepped cautiously across loose stone.
No one spoke.
Conversation was discouraged before patrols.
The valley seemed to swallow sound.
By midday they reached the border markers—weathered pillars standing exactly halfway between both nations.
According to ancient law, no banner could cross them except during declared offensives.
In practice, both sides ignored that rule whenever convenient.
Aurelia dismounted beside one of the cracked pillars.
Fresh footprints.
Large boots.
Military issue.
Aethelgard.
She crouched lower.
"Twelve."
One scout looked puzzled.
"Twelve what?"
"Twelve soldiers."
"You can tell?"
"They passed less than two hours ago."
The scout's face tightened.
"Headed east?"
She nodded.
"Toward the Broken Arch."
The same destination.
Coincidence rarely survived long on the battlefield.
Aurelia signaled the patrol forward.
The scouts advanced through abandoned trenches reclaimed by weeds and drifting ash. Rusted helmets protruded from the earth beside broken shields whose faded emblems no longer revealed which army they had once served.
War eventually erased such distinctions.
Near sunset the Broken Arch finally appeared.
It was all that remained of a colossal bridge built centuries before either city-state existed. One massive stone arch still stood defiantly above the valley floor while every adjoining span had collapsed into jagged rubble.
Aurelia raised a hand.
The patrol halted instantly.
Something was wrong.
No birds.
No wind.
No insects.
Only silence.
Then—
A faint blue glow flickered beneath the ruined arch.
It vanished.
Returned.
Vanished again.
One of the younger scouts whispered nervously.
"What is that?"
Before Aurelia could answer, another scout pointed toward a distant ridge.
"Movement."
She turned sharply.
Across the gray hillside, barely visible through drifting ash, stood twelve crimson-cloaked soldiers.
The patrol from Aethelgard had arrived.
Neither side reached for a weapon.
Not yet.
Separated by little more than a field of broken stone and two hundred years of inherited hatred, the opposing patrols stared across the ruins in absolute silence.
Then, beneath the ancient arch between them, the blue light flared brighter than before.
Both patrols looked toward it at exactly the same moment.
- Writer
