ꌃ꒒ꍏꉓꀘ꓄ꃅꂦꋪꈤ

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PROLOUGE

Caelis Blackthorn sped through drills, catching fists, kicks, anything thrown at him. The boy he sparred was young, inexperienced, over his head—the last trait Caelis knew before he even stepped in the ring. The two fought hard, drawing a sweat to Caelis’s brow, yet he still easily pinned his opponent. “That’s my boy,” His father, Draven, called. Caelis smiled, nodding at his father. “I can beat everybody but you,” He mused, his father chuckling. “See, that’s simply because I've trained longer, and better. Some things you can’t change due to time, and you mustn't get angered at that, remember that.” Caelis nodded at his words, walking out of the ring, putting his practice sword away.

The bells started going off, two rings, over and over. Caelis was confused and inexperienced, unsure what they meant as he still tried to learn the meaning of every amount. He turned to his father—the man now pale, fear stricken, and wide eyed. “Father?” Caelis asked, worried. Draven stayed silent, unanswering. “Draven,” His son tried. No response. “Draven Blackthorn,” Caelis said this in a booming voice, much like that they used in court. Draven looked over at Caelis. “They’re here.” Caelis stared at him for a moment, chuckling a smidge as he was still unsure. “What? Who’s here? Dad, you’re not making any sense.” He mused, a grin on his face even as not knights, but soldiers sprinted down halls towards the armory. Draven shook his head, looking at his son. “Long story.”

Draven ran over to the armory at the sound of the bell ringing, two rings, meaning war had begun. Draven’s mind raced as he yanked on his black, dented armor carved with the Blackthorn’s insignia, grabbing his sword–a black, sleek and sharp blade of steel, made lethal. “Father, wait for me!” Caelis called, starting to pull his armor on quickly. Draven whipped around, armor now strapped on, helmet waiting, putting his hands on his son’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “Listen to me, this is Mercia we’re going to war with. This is our one chance to get revenge, and if anything you are not coming.” His son opened his mouth to speak, frowning now as the older man’s voice sharpened, becoming commanding. “Stay here, and you’re the commander now, keep look out of the kingdom while I'm away.” Caelis struggled to speak, watching as his father ran off into the war. “Father!” Caelis cried out, his throat hurting from the cry as Draven didn’t look back not once, not twice, not at all.

THE FALL

The new commander considered for a long moment, watching as his father’s figure became smaller and smaller. -Do I or do I not? If I do… that leaves no commander in line if I die, if I don’t, he could be killed. He’s my wingman, and I won’t let him just run.- Caelis darted after his father, deadset on retrieving him. He sprinted down the street, reaching Buldaga Avenue after fighting more than four times, barely dodging what would’ve been a lethal blow to the throat. He found Draven, watching as his father was pinned against the wall, roaring in rage as he fought with all his might, exerting all the ways he’d learned through the years. A sword was brought down into his side.

“No!” Caelis cried out, time slowing as his father fell, his sword clattering uselessly down. Caelis raced over, pulling him up. “Listen you’re going to be fine, everything’s fine.” The man muttered, Draven just chuckling and shaking his head with a cough. “Caelis I'm…I’m better dead. They can’t help me, it’s too deep.” He managed, his son starting to drag him towards help. “No-no no no we’re getting help, they’ll save you.” The commander stuttered, eyes wet with tears he refused to let fall.

The sight of his father—powerful, commanding, and always stubborn Draven Blackthorn injured and weak in his arms, made his heart ache. “Let me go,” Draven murmured, Caelis doing as instructed. “Listen, this is it. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you.” His son choked on a sob, a tear rolling down his face. “I can’t go on without you, heck, I need relationship advice when I'm older.” Draven chuckled weakly, coughing. “Well, you saw how things ended with me and your mother so, wouldn’t say I’m the best. But listen, Caelis. I’m proud of you, so proud of you. And I know you’ll continue to go…on with…everything you’ve started…” Draven smiled one last time, his last breath leaving his lungs as his heart slowed to a stop, his body slacking. Caelis stayed, heart aching, gaze flicking back to the warzone with something new. Rage.

Eventually the fight was over–by over of course, it was still a raging war, just controlled now. Caelis stumbled over to his barrack, a crossbow bolt lodged in his shoulder and stinging in waves, an arrow lodged in the back of his knee, having slipped through his armor cracks and broken, a blade lodged in his side—just a small dagger, not much—he slipped the door shut, walking to the center of the room before falling to his knees, vision blurring. He started seeing doubles, triples, before seeing quadruples as he felt lightheaded, his ears starting to ring as the rush of blood behind his ears and the slow beat of his heart were the only sounds he heard. The man fell into unconsciousness, falling forward, his head cracking against the stone flooring.

“Commander Blackthorn?” The king’s voice rang in Caelis’s head, yet he was unable to move or see. A knock followed, as well as his title once more. “Caelis Blackthorn you are to open this door and that is an order.” The king’s voice boomed in his skull, rattling him as he heard the knob being tried, the door opening, as well as a quiet gasp.

THE KING

King Varys of Velora walked down the barrack halls of high ranking nobles and knights alike, looking for one in particular ; Commander Caelis Blackthorn. His father, Commander Draven Blackthorn, had been killed in the raging battles of the war against Mercia. Mercia had been sending spies in for years, committing heavy crimes against Velora. The opposing kingdom had stolen goods, spies, Varys’s favorite horse to be exact, and also the prince, who was the next heir in line for the throne, and even though it’d been five years since his abduction, nobody had heard a word about him. Varys missed the boy, for his usual cheerful expression and loud laughter always put a smile on everybody’s faces, even the council.

The king sighed at the thought, his boots clicking against the stone flooring as he walked door after door, greeting the guards on watch with a silent nod, earning a few looks as he was traveling alone—with no guards protecting him. Even in the face of war, Varys still denied protection, quoting : “If they want me then they can come break through all eight walls of soldiers we have, somehow make it through the castle without getting caught, and somehow escape Blackthorn.” The man hummed a tune as he went, planning Draven’s funeral now, something to show how much honor and respect the commander had for everyone, and how much everyone had for him. They’d burn him at the top of Mount Ragnarok, a sacred tradition passed down for generations for only those born every few decades, the ones everyone remembered.

The respectful ones, the powerful ones, the unforgettable ones. -Wow this hallway is really long, where is Blackthorn’s door anyway?- He thought, eventually remembering and turning down the correct corridor, reaching a door and knocking. “Commander Blackthorn?” Silence. Varys scowled, knowing he was in there. The king knocked once more, harsher now. “Caelis Blackthorn you are to open this door and that is an order.” Varys boomed, trying to open the door handle,the knob rattling before giving in and opening. “Comma-” The man cut short, pausing at the sight of the untouchable commander collapsed on the ground, a thin streak of blood trailing from a bash on his head—looking like a trauma wound. The monarch rushed over, hesitating for a moment as he analyzed the wounds, running to the doorway and dashing down the hall, shouting. “Medic! I need a medic now!”

A medic rushed over, breath short, cheeks flustered as two guards came over as well, the group all running to Caelis’s room. “In here, he’s hurt, help him!” The king’s panic for his weapon the commander came from his loyalty to the crown, being his best soldier, and the best weapon. The medic paused, having the two guards heave him up, one carrying his legs, one carrying his arms. They rushed him to the infirmary, clearing a table and setting him down. Caelis’s head lolled to the side, a groan slipping his lips as he very slowly started to re-enter consciousness, the pain wrapping around him like a chain.

The medics yanked his armor off, flipping him onto his stomach to leave his back exposed to them, the head medic grabbing a pair of tweezers. “Steady now,” She muttered, placing a hand on the patient’s shoulder, digging the tweezers in the crossbow bolt wound. He jerked at the touch, muscles twitching before he knocked her hand away. Now he was very, very much awake, and also confused where on Earth he was, as he had just been in his barrack and now he was here—some random infirmary.

He sat up, gritting his teeth as something primal shone in his eyes, swatting hands away as he stood, taking on three guards before he was tackled, still fighting. “Caelis,” The king started, his voice familiar to the man, the king watching as he calmed and looked around. “Oh, hey guys. Sorry about that, I didn't know where I was. Thought Mercia had captured me, and if so I was about to fight until I died. Now it’d be really great if you guys could get off me or at least get your hand off my shoulder because currently it feels like somebody stabbed me and is sitting there twisting the blade around and around.” He mused with a chuckle, the guards getting off him before he stood, wiping the dirt off his hands before settling back on his stomach on the table, crossing his arms before resting his head on them.

The head medic, now shaken, blinked a few times before sighing, walking back up before sticking the tweezers in the wound, pulling it open wider before yanking the bolt out. Caelis sucked in a breath when she did so, wincing when she poured something in it which made the wound burn before packing it with gauze. She then continued onto the blade in his side, noting it had broken a rib or two as she pulled it out, Caelis yelping as he had been having a regular conversation before suddenly it got ripped out of him, head snapping back as he saw it was fine, now getting disinfected and sewn back shut. The medic drove the needle into his skin, pulling the thread through before looping it, continuing the process over and over before tying it off, noting her patient was now just about half asleep.

She moved onto the arrow tip stuck in his knee, pulling off his boot before setting his leg straight. Caelis winced, his leg jerking back up. The medic sighed, watching as the commander squeezed his eyes shut, jaw going slack. She turned around, quickly grabbing a few vials in her sedation drawer. Four vials got dumped into one, the woman adding a pinch of a herb which made the sedation deeper and made it last longer–knowing the procedure would take a while. Once it was mixed she nodded at the guards, who pried Caelis’s mouth open. His eyes snapped open, rearing back but too late as she dumped the vile in his mouth, the man gagging at the taste yet swallowing it. “GODS ABOVE, WHAT WAS THAT.” He snapped, his words slurring as he chuckled, his head slamming onto his arms as he got pulled into sleep.

The team stared in silence, Varys snapping. “Get on to work, knowing him, he won’t stay down long enough. Also you might want to tie his leg down, even asleep he’ll jerk around a lot.” The king snapped, the team hurrying to work as he walked out. He chuckled as he did so, noting the look on their faces when the ‘beast’ finally went down–and in a funny way, too. He was whisked away to a study, it being ruled as very important.

CAELIS

Caelis awoke to a screaming pain in his leg, vision blurry as he reached out for grip, eventually grabbing the table edge, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Gah,” He muttered, a heavy hand placing itself between his shoulder blades, pushing him down flat against the table. “Nope, you’re not ready for that big guy. Your knee is all jacked up, tendons got torn and cut, you can’t walk.” The head medic’s voice was familiar–grounding, even. He simply just nodded, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as she injected something into his arm, his body slacking as the pain eased. He groaned into his arms, looking around to see if anybody was in there he could at least talk to, as the silence grew very boring. Nobody. The man sighed, the loneliness settling around him like a blanket as he slipped his eyes shut again, this time, welcoming the sleep the drugs induced.

MEDICATIONS

Caelis woke once more to an awfully bright and early morning, the hustle and bustle of the kingdom already starting. Vendors shouting at every street corner trying to sell, the scream of steel against steel as pairs fenced, the clatter of practice swords being knocked from hands during spars. He sighed, a medic pushing the door open quietly, walking over to him as she set her tray down beside him, vials placed upon it. “Let me guess, gonna pry my jaw open again? Or am I going to be given the option to do it willingly?” The man mused, the girl smiling. “Well, Commander, good news and bad news—actually, depends on how you are.” Caelis nodded, wanting to hear them. “Good news is we can get you to lay on your back now, sleep will probably be more comfortable. The other news is you’ve got more meds, and either you can take them, I can have somebody pry your mouth open and force you to take it, or put it in a drip which is going to hurt and make it even more miserable. So, will you cooperate?” She asked, Caelis nodding. “After hearing you say that really calm, absolutely.”

The medic nodded with a small smile, helping him get turned around, finally able to lay on his back as she stuffed a pillow behind him to help him sit up. She handed him the vile, the commander somewhat hyping himself up before taking it, cringing at the bitter taste before handing it off. And just like that, he was alone once more. Or was he? As he lay there and drifted into deep thought, he was suddenly interrupted by a shadow moving outside his window, staying still for a moment before vanishing. Caelis frowned, figuring he’d been stuck in his bed for too long, noting now he’d be fine figuring something out, right?

The commander pulled his covers back, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and standing, limping steadily over to the window, pushing it open before stepping out onto the grass, the blades poking at the soles of his feet. He set his jaw tight, immediately entering the same instinct he had on the battlefield–presicion. He caught sight of the figure, they were wearing black with Mercia’s insignia on it–a lion set aflame. Caelis cracked his knuckles, catching the spy's attention. “Looks like you’re in the wrong place, huh?”

The spy charged at him, apparently unaware who he was going against as Caelis easily pinned the enemy, only before getting a sharp kick to his bad knee, sending a jolt of pain up his thigh. He winced, tossing an uppercut at the man before the opposer’s fist bashed into his jaw, snapping the commander’s head to the side. Caelis heavily pinned him, bringing his fist down over and over until he was at last, still. Tossing the now limp spy over his shoulder, he walked back into his room, the adrenaline wearing off and pain forming once more. He grabbed a cable, tying up the enemy quickly before making it two steps away from his bed when all of a sudden–his knee gave up on him. It was abrupt, simply just buckling—yet it still knocked him to both knees. With a grunt he heaved himself up onto his bed, unable to feel anything in his leg besides the constant throbbing pain.

The head medic burst in at the sound of struggle coming from Caelis’s room, pausing at the sight of the spy now laying on his side, attempting to get out of his bindings. “Oka–” She cut off mid word, glancing over at her patient, who was now leaned back, hands folded behind his head with his eyes shut, humming a song. “Commander, what in the Gods happened here?” She asked with a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as Caelis peeked an eye open, chuckling before speaking. “Was lost in thought when I saw something outside my window, went to investigate it and found one of Mercia’s spies. Take him down to the dungeons, I'll interrogate him myself when I can.” He mused, the medic just shaking her head lightly. “You’re something else, that’s for sure.” She muttered, seeing the way he held his leg wrong.

“Sir…do mind showing me your leg, please.” She murmured, Caelis doing as instructed, her eyes going wide at the sight. “Commander, you've torn ligaments once more, meaning even longer bed rest.” The medic explained, the man silent as he processed. He slowly nodded with a sigh, though he saw the woman perk up a smidge. “Though, I was in the library earlier and saw this—figured you might want it while you’re here.” She explained, handing Caelis the book. It had black leather with silver lettering, yellowed pages, and a cool title : Hawkeye.

Hawkeye dashed through the war, his father’s blood still warm on his hands as he sobbed while sprinting, destined to get back to safety. Caelis paused for a moment, relating heavily to the book even just two weeks in. The door being pushed open burst his train of thought, the commander looking up to see who it was, noting the head medic once more and a new man—older looking, perhaps a physician? He was told he’d be doing tests soon so…perhaps he was right. “Morning Blackthorn, seems to me you’ve already been up. How are we feeling today? Still hurting or no?” She asked, Caelis remembering to make himself look welcoming. “Well, so far it hasn’t hurt at all, so I'm feeling pretty good.” He explained, the medic nodding as she grabbed a board with a scroll on it, getting a pot of ink along with a quill.

The older man stepped forward, offering his hand. Caelis took it, shaking his hand. “I’m Dr. Ridge, your physician. Today we’ll be running a few tests to make sure your leg’s all up to date and doing better, hoping to get you back to training quickly.” He explained, his patient nodding with a curious look in his eyes. “What kind of tests?” Dr. Ridge had the man stand, supporting him when he shook before having him walk, run, bend his knee, and all sorts of others, noting he passed them all. “Well Caelis, looks good. Gonna send you home with a few meds but other than that you are all set.” The physician explained, Caelis nodding before pulling his armor back on, walking out of the room to go and collect the medicines.

NEW ROLE

Caelis Blackthorn swiftly walked down the long Council hall—the one where council meetings were held, as well as War Council meetings being held there. He stopped before a pair of double black doors, carved with swords—the War Council chamber, also the place where plans were made, treaties signed, and missions assigned. He sucked in a breath, calming himself as the last time he had entered the room was before Draven’s death. He pushed open the doors, boots clicking against the stone as he walked in, the doors shutting softly behind him as he made way to the table holding all the maps, figures placed atop marking the sloppy mission to stop the war—the mission which took the life of his father. Caelis’s throat tightened at the memory, pushing it aside as he got out a fresh sheet of parchment, grabbing a vat of ink and a quill—starting to write down new posts.

The commander worked late into the night, writing until his hand was blistered and his handwriting was unreadable lines. He yawned, setting the quill down before rubbing his face, closing his eyes for a moment and almost drifting off, snapping them back open. He continued writing, eventually finishing at around 2 in the morning. The man stood, his chair scraping lightly as he stumbled, catching himself on the table. “Stay up, you’re fine.” Caelis muttered under his breath, pushing open the doors before walking out into the long hall—heading back to his chambers.

He eventually reached his door, pushing it open before slipping it shut, letting his shoulders slump with a sigh as he pulled his boots and gauntlets off, starting to yank his armor off before walking into his bathroom and splashing cold water on his face–scrubbing the grime off while he was at it. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, trying to see the ‘terrifying’ ‘warlord’ everybody else claimed to see, only seeing a disappointment staring back at him. Draven would be disappointed, so why shouldn’t he as well? Caelis grabbed a towel, patting his face dry as his eyes threatened to flutter close then and there. He made his way over to his bed, climbing under the covers before going out like a lightbulb.

At the oh-so incredibly late time of six in the morning, a loud knock came from the outside of his door. Caelis jumped awake, rubbing at his eyes as sun already filtered through his windows. “Yeah, yeah I'm up!” He called, the knocking stopping and proceeding to another door. The commander sat up, sitting there for a moment as the sun rose before finally getting out of bed. He walked into his bathroom, splashing his face with freezing cold water once more, the icy shock waking him right up. He noticed the faint bags starting to form under his eyes, as well as the red rim taking play in them. “Great, just great.” The man muttered, walking back out and pulling his armor on. Once his armor was all the way on, he grabbed his sword, sheathing it at his side before walking out into the empty hallway, proceeding to the training yard.

Nobody was up quite yet besides Caelis, chefs and servants, and the night shifters—the knights who took watch at night. Every squire and everybody else would sleep in until nine thirty besides the king, who’d probably been up since one if Caelis had to guess. Poor man, never slept much. At least him and Caelis had that in common. The commander reached the training yard, unsheathing his sword and absolutely unleashing his talent on one of the dummies, snapping it in half at the end. He only looked up when he noticed the silence, looking around and seeing he had an audience of the workers up at the time. “What are you looking at? Get back to work,” He growled, the group nodding with numerous ‘yes sir’s before continuing on their path, head tucked low. Caelis sheathed his sword, walking out of the yard and continuing on his path to the throne room–where the king had summoned him for…well, Caelis didn’t really know.

The commander knocked on the door twice, sharply as he snapped to attention. “Come in,” The king’s voice echoed through the doors, Caelis walking in before bowing, returning to attention. “I was summoned, your Majesty.” He said automatically, the king looking at him before sighing, the bravado falling. “Yeah, why are you pushing yourself this hard? You’re our best fighter, we can’t just have you overexert yourself and be dismissed from work for even longer. The war is still raging, and without you, we’d be in shambles. You are to return to your barracks by eight, and the earliest you’re allowed to leave is seven-thirty. Do you understand?” He asked, Caelis nodding. “Yes, your majesty.” The king waved a hand, rolling his eyes slightly. “Oh please, drop the act. I can tell you’re tired, Caelis. Your eyes are red, and your eye bags are darker than your father’s death.” The commander flinched slightly, shoulders slumping slightly as he rubbed at his face, dragging a hand down it.

“Exactly, you’re exhausted to the bone from working too hard. Another way I can tell is because usually you’d be chatting up a storm, yet you remain silent unless demanded.” The king explained, the knight relaxing in his stance, crossing his arms. “Maybe I'm just looking to improve.” Caelis snapped back, the monarch descending until he was in the subject’s face. He shoved the man in armor lightly, stepping towards him once more. “Or maybe you’re just young—for saint’s sake, you’re not even twenty. Barely nineteen, and already trying to follow in your father’s footsteps. He’s destroyed entire armies by himself, you can barely take a battalion. Now, you’d be able to take an army and plan it, yet your ego is what’s dragging you down.”

Silence filled the chamber, Caelis staring at the floor. Varys put two fingers under the commander’s chin, tilting his gaze back to his. “Fix that, and I promise you, everything will be better.” The king walked back to the throne, sitting once more. “Dismissed, I don’t want to see you in this state anymore–or I’ll have your rank, commander.” The knight saluted the monarch, walking out stiffly and shutting the door behind him, a sharp, blinding pain erupted in his knee. He swallowed a yelp, catching himself against the wall as his vision pulsed white before turning black. He remained upright, staring unfocused at the floor, holding his knee as though it’d make it any sort’ve better. Caelis figured he knew the castle well enough, going half blind as he limped forward—pushing through the pain before eventually making it to his barrack, shutting the door behind him before collapsing.

Saints above, so maybe the king was right. His ego was the only thing he was running on, and even then he was pushing himself. Wait…what was he rambling on about? The king was an idiot, his words never ever made sense most of the time. Caelis pushed himself up again, walking over to the bathroom and opening a container, dumping out a pill and swallowing it, the pain going away. The nineteen year old looked in the mirror, noting the way his armor was still too loose, yet he’d grow into it, grow into life—he was sure.

THE SACRIFICE

FIVE YEARS LATER

‘The sacrifice’ 5 years later

• Goes to council meeting per usual

• Every knight is there

• Nobody volunteers for the mission to end the war as it’s too dangerous

• Caelis volunteers

• King warns him to say his goodbyes, as he may not come back

• Is dismissed from role to train harder than every

Commander Caelis Blackthorn strode through the halls, humming as he went. His armor remained the same ; dented, scratched, yet still his. He pushed open the doors to the War Council, taking a seat in the back, the shadows concealing his figure as he sat. “Settle down!” The king’s voice boomed, silencing every man in there. “Now, finally we have found Mercia’s base and the location of their captain. If we capture him, we will win the war. Now one thing, we need volunteers.” Silence followed his words, somebody clearing their throat in the back. Caelis thought for a moment, huffing a breath out his nose. A shuffle of feet became the only sound, followed by the click of armor as a figure made his way to the front. “I volunteer. None of these cowards will, besides, this war has raged too long, about time we end it.” He spoke boldly and bravely, a smile forming on the king’s face as he nodded.

“Very well, Commander Blackthorn.” The crown turned back towards the group of knights. “Dismissed, War Council please stay, we have a mission to plan.” The rest of the knights all left, leaving only around eight besides Caelis. “Here’s the plan. As you all know, we’ve located the base of Mercia, in that base is their captain, his name is unknown. We have a picture though. Commander, you’ll go off of that.” Caelis nodded in silence. “In there, your mission is to keep him alive, not dead, hear me?” The commander nodded once more. “Drag him back down to us, from there we’ll take him.” Once again, the commander nodded. “Alright then, dismissed. And Caelis?” Caelis turned, halfway out the door. “Good luck out there.”

‘Dashing through the wood’

• Three day long journey dodging patrols and such, eventually reaching mercia base camp

• ‘The climb’ mini section of sneaking to the tower holding the army captain (aka the subject caelis is after) before climbing his way up

• Finally gets up, silent as he climbs through and looks for the captain, only to feel a hand clamp around his wrist, reaching for his sword before realizing it was gone, scattered off to the side. The hand around his wrist yanks him to the ground, the two getting into a heated spar

• Caelis drags the man into the moonlight, only to reveal it to be the captain

• Chapter ends.

Caelis ran across the woods on a horse, the Mercia base coming into sight. He jumped off, the horse turning back to the kingdom. Silently he climbed the tower, eventually reaching the floor with the captain. He slipped over the barricade, looking for the captain. A hand clamped around his wrist, a voice only a murmur. “I don’t think so,” Caelis reached for his sword, only to find it tossed off the side of the tower into the five story drop below. The commander whipped around, a fist colliding with his jaw. His ears rang as his vision doubled, forcing himself upright at lightning speed as he quickly got into a spar with his opponent. The moonlight danced on the figure’s face, revealing it to be the captain.

‘Fighting for the crown’

• Fight scene, the two collide

• The captain overpowers, shoving caelis over the barricade and down the five story drop.

• Caelis uses all his strength to hold on, driving his hand through the wood before grabbing the captain’s ankle, yanking him down with him as the two freefall

• Draven’s words echo in his mind, advice he’d given the day of his death, caelis reminiscing on how it was his fault as he falls, time slowing as he takes in the last few moments of his life, remembering the good moments, and the bad, before slamming into the ground.

• Captain is knocked out, caelis unfortunately not. His ears ring continuously, every sound muffled as his small and rare movements are sluggish. His vision is blurred, seeing triple of everything as it goes black at the edges. He takes in the beauty of the world for the last time, smiling as he realizes he’s ended the raging war, getting vengeance for his father.

• All of a sudden, he hears voices, his smile dropping as a calvary rides out of the forest, aimed right at him. He realizes he's done for and wishes he was dead, knowing now that he was going to be captured he was probably going to be tortured atop of everything that’d already happened.

• Chapter ends.

Caelis grit his teeth, realizing then the captain was bigger and stronger, meaning he’d be easily finished. He lunged forward, getting tripped and tumbling to the drop, his hand catching onto the edge, barely hanging on. His eyes squeezed shut, realizing now this was the end. His fate had come. “Some things you can’t change due to time, and you mustn’t get angered at that.” Draven’s words echoed in his mind, Caelis’s eyes flicking back open as he reached out and wrapped his hand around the captain’s ankle, yanking him down with him as he fell. His ears rang, vision black at the edges as he collided with the ground, breath knocking out of him as he heard voices, realizing he’d done everything just to be captured.

‘The capture’

• Caelis is captured, unable to flee as hands grab him, pulling him up roughly before slinging an arm over their shoulders, the commander confused why Mercia would, well, have mercy on him.

• It’s revealed it’s an old squire he hasn’t seen in years, the squire explains that mercia has been sent a letter saying if they sign a peace treaty they’ll receive their captain again. Mercia has agreed, Squire explains because of caelis, the war is over, peace is still.

• Caelis smiles, looking up at the night sky before noting something, eyes rolling back as he collapses to the ground, barely alive.

• Hurried to a medic tent, barely alive, bleeding from all four limbs. Medics do their best, yet even still, his heart stops.

• Chapter ends.

‘Redemption’

• Chapter opens to the team rushing, what caelis sees in his final moments, caelis is narrating. Such as ‘in those moments, i was unsure where i was to go to next. Life, or to go join my father. Either were good options but I was kinda hoping to stay a little longer. I wasn’t even twenty yet. I was nineteen. Dumb. reckless. Eager to prove myself the way my father had done, and his before, and his before. Keep the blackthorn tradition alive.’ switches back to his vision, blinking and alive while everybody else rushed around him, vision blurry and unfocused. Orders getting shouted, the sounds barely audible besides mumbles as his ears continued to ring.

• He comes back, fully now, heart beating at a good pace. ‘Hey bud, good to see you.’ the king says to him, caelis meeting his gaze before they put him under, continuing to work. “He blinked a few times, eyes finally fluttering closed.”

• Chapter ends.

‘Ceremonial’

• Caelis is discharged two weeks later, limping permanently now, knowing he’d lost a father figure and also a heavy part of himself while in the battle

• A ceremony is hosted to celebrate the end of the war, and also the funding velora makes mercia pay to cover the debts, as well as the lives lost.

• While there, caelis receives a medal of honor, only ever given to one other person—his father.

• Receives his father’s helmet, scratched, stained, yet still a joke was carved into the inside.

‘Draven Nyquist Blackthorn - Take this and I'll take your head’ Ah, of course. His father’s cocky side bleeding into his battlefield side. Caelis chuckles at the sight, carrying it tucked under his arm as the king comes up, the princess at his arm. Caelis’s face falls, knowing the history he already has with her.

• Chapter ends.

Caelis walked out of the infirmary two weeks later, knowing he’d lost a father figure and also a part of himself. As he walked out, he felt somewhat…different. Hollow, even. Even so, bells rang in the distance, still celebrating the victory he hated hearing.