Wars are often fought only because one side does not see the wisdom in yielding.

Carmon Dagarth, Blood Lord

The road up the sacred mountain displayed a faint record of hoofprints in its loose soil. A sign that others had come this way only a few days before.

The light gray steed carrying Lord Hedric along the journey was as pale as his skin had been not all that long ago. The Blood Lord's complexion had acquired a more normal tone as of late; the flesh exhibiting a decidedly pinker hue.

Upon the Blood Lord's face, sat an expression most would have found bizarre considering his reputation as a viscous tyrant. Pulling at the corners of his mouth, some might have called it a smile. There was even a slight laugh that accompanied it, speaking of a joy yearning to be let free after a long and tortuous confinement.

The sight and sound drew a comment from the man, his uniform bearing the insignia of his newly bestowed rank of Commander, riding along with him.

"Sir?" Halond asked, his own horse only about two paces behind the Blood Lord's lead. "Did you say something, my Lord?"

Basking in the light of day, Lars had still not gotten used to once again being openly in the presence of others aside from Lady Noranda, his generals, and a few select others. Throughout the tenure of his curse, one that made him cower in the darkness and shadows for so long, his reclusive status caused such idiosyncrasies to seem odd to those who now observed them. He presumed that reality, which had come to play a dominate role in his life for nearly two centuries, only further added to the seeds of fear and mistrust grown in the minds of so many towards him.

People always dreaded what they couldn't see and didn't understand.

Realizing his emotions showed more outwardly than intended, Lars eased any concern there might have been within the soldier accompanying him and fearing he had possibly missed something important. "No," Lars replied, understanding the climb had been a wearing ordeal on his army as the main force lagged behind. His energy, on the other hand, felt limitless. "Just a sense of relief, if I am allowed to indulge in such a thing?"

"Of course, my Lord. Far be it from me to imply that you shouldn't revel in this—your moment of victory."

"Not quite victorious yet," Lord Hedric corrected. "But soon. Very soon."

"Yes, my Lord." The recently promoted commander pointed to the end of the road ahead of them. "The summit, sir. Should I summon the trumpeters up?"

"What for?"

"Why to formally announce your arrival, sir?"

Lars did not even try to hide his latest bout of laughter at the suggestion. It rolled out of him in true amusement upon hearing the comment. "Do I seem that vain to you?"

"I meant no disrespect, sir." There was a hedging to Halond's words. He even dropped his horse back another pace from Lord Hedric's lead. "It is standard protocol. Any time a head of state arrives in a conquered land. Going back thousands of years. To the old kingdoms."

"Commander Halond, this day is both sweet and bitter for me. You may not know it, but I never wanted any of this."

"Any of what, sir?"

"This." Lars gesticulated wildly, as though pointing to something in particular when he really wasn't. "To rule a kingdom or be feared and followed, To have an army that, upon my orders, would wreak destruction across any land I set them loose against. To crush subjects under my boot simply because they stood against one simple wish."

"Which is, sir? That wish?"

"Your formality bores me, Commander Halond." Still, despite that truth, Lars chose to answer honestly. "To live. To feel exhaustion of the day and rest when it was done. To serve others and bring them to the light I once believed in like a fool. A light that convinced those who were once my brothers and sisters to betray me and left me and countless others to suffer."

As they crested onto the expansive plain atop the mountain, Lord Hedric took stock of the power within him on this day. While the connection with the demon Lady Noranda controlled was strong, it was his bond with Cassandra that allowed him the pleasure of coming here in the light of day without the searing pain of the sun forcing him to wilt under its presence. She, and her divinely touched soul, was his true strength. And what made this moment of looming triumph possible.

Walking in daylight without suffering the side effects was a feat not even the great Blood Lord who turned him into the abomination he was today had been capable of. But while Lord Dagarth had been very powerful indeed, existing in the light was not a power he ever achieved before Lars destroyed him, ascended to his throne, and laid waste to the Hitithe Empire in his quest for the Tear of Earoni and his own deliverance from a hell akin to descending to The Dark but still living.

A dragon's bay sounded, while another responded in kind. Preceding him atop the mount, two score of the beasts and their riders were already camped. They lingered among the ruins of the ancient battlefield and the remains of soldiers he sent long ago to this place in his first attempt to acquire the artifact by force. When it would not be given by any other means. However, as all were well aware, it was only his arrival that made the conquest of this sacred mountain complete. And thus those assembled waited patiently for him to make his entrance.

Even Lady Noranda who was with those he'd sent ahead awaited him.

Thinking about it, the moment upon him, Lars realized how bland his appearance before them must have seemed to anyone looking on. Even to him it possessed the aura of being unsatisfactorily anti-climactic. Here he was, the leader of the most powerful empire the world had ever seen. Possibly the most powerful being to roam the mortal world. And he was plodding along on the back of a beaten down horse that just climbed a mountain on his behalf.

Had it been night, he could have used his connection to the shadows and arrived sooner and with substantially less effort.

Perhaps he should have held up, as Commander Halond suggested; summoning the trumpeters to the fore and to punctuate his arrival with a bit of fanfare.

But why? As he informed the commander previously and plainly, that was not what he wanted. He never requested to be cursed with an immortality who's cost was the blood of others. He'd only done what he'd done because his brothers and sisters left him with no choice otherwise.

All he ever desired was his life. After years of suffering, his pardon from this barless prison was at hand. And not only his, but that of an innocent child he had sworn with his life to save from his own fate of damnation. A child he kept locked away in a crystalline prison deep within the palace and fed with his own blood as she slept.

He wondered if she even knew of her fate.

Beyond his soldiers was the looming stone peak upon the peak. Twin pillars capped with hands in a flamboyant display served as a frame to the long-hidden doors leading to his prize. The entire sight didn't call to Lars as much as it screamed silently in his ears.

"Where's your demon?" he asked Lady Noranda as they closed the gap to within earshot, containing a growing excitement inside himself.

"I sent him to search for any signs of the enemy." Hood drawn to hide her scarred and disfigured face, Lady Noranda's posture indicated an eagerness to claim what lay within the mountain, mirroring that of Lord Hedric's own. Unlike the Blood Lord, however, she wasn't willing to bask in the sun. "I would find it peculiar if the Rebellion has not already moved troops into the mountains once the way was shown. We know from the prisoners we've interrogated recently they knew of this expedition and were amassing forces north of the Koroth Lands."

"Then let's get this over with, shall we?" he asked. "No reason to wait for company. Has there been any word from General Nightwing?"

"The shrine has been breached." With a finger, the fallen angel acknowledged the entrance that now laid opened, but not entirely so. "I assume that Cassandra and her sister are inside, as there is no sign of either of them. I have already inspected the entrance. And abolished the few remaining and somewhat nuisance spells designed to protect against certain sorts of creatures from passing through the threshold even once the doors were opened."

"Vampires and fallen angels, I presume? Like us?"

"Among other things. Regardless, they are undone now. Dispelled, just as I dismissed the illusion over these lands. There is nothing now stopping us from claiming our victory."

"Just remember our deal, Noranda. I get to use the Tear first to free myself of this curse. Then you and your Dark Lord can do whatever you want with it. Myself and the child to be spared from whatever ruin you set loose."

"I have not forgotten our bargain, nor has the god I serve."

Off by itself, the black beast General Nightwing had taken several days before to scout the area curled up. Guarding a trove of fleshy debris, it crunched on an assortment of bones sprawled around its clawed feet where it laid. The precious horde littering the dirt only vaguely resembled once living creatures.

"Looks like the general's dragon had itself a little feast. No humans, or elves, or otaur in that mess?" Lars asked of the fallen angel.

"Doesn't appear to be any." Noranda shrugged. "Only horses. Even I've had trouble approaching to get a good enough look, however. That beast is particularly foul tempered. More so than even a typical black."

"A perfect match for General Nightwing then." Lars dismounted finally, drawing a deep breath of the thin air. He could feel the tension in his horse's muscles relieve at the loss of their burden. "I hear she's grown rather fond of that particular one. Much to the dismay of its former master. Perhaps we should join her and the others inside? We wouldn't want to miss any of the festivities."

"You don't trust her." It was a statement, not a question from the lady cloaked in robes of blood red.

"I have grown to trust General Nightwing's dedication to our cause. She has proven herself to me this past year beyond any doubt. She is a remarkable young woman and has been an excellent ally. Your foresight of such was impeccable."

"Indeed."

"Although I would have expected General Nightwing to have recovered the artifact by now."

"The shrine could be very large." Lady Noranda used the opportunity to impart exactly how much was unknown of this place. "We do not have the original plans. They were destroyed when the shrine was sealed. So it is possible they haven't even found the sanctum yet."

"Are you detecting any additional magics?"

"Nothing major," Noranda confessed. "A few strange spells that I will need to inspect once I get closer to them. But none that seem designed in particular to hinder us."

"And you think the General has convinced her sister to aid her?" Then Lord Hedric added. "And us?"

"Are you worried that Cassandra has been unable to sway her sister to our side? As you know, Cassandra can be very persuasive."

"Of that, I am well aware." Lars felt the link between himself and his Supreme General, strong as ever. It alone made him feel almost human again. "But I will not feel comfortable in anything until I possess the Tear. Let us go and find out then what the holdup is. Commander Halond?"

"Yes, sir?" he replied as though doing nothing except waiting for his next order.

"Have troops secure the area. I don't want any surprises coming up the mountain and disturbing us."

"Yes, sir." There was a particular snap to the reply that spoke to Halond's eagerness to appease.

Lord Hedric paused and gave the commander a quiet nod. "I can see why General Nightwing thinks so highly of you, Commander."

The praise caused the recently promoted soldier to straighten with delight. "I follow orders, sir."

"And you do that very well. You are in charge until I return." Lars spun toward the shrine's entrance, leaving the proud man while ushering Noranda along. "Come, my dear. Our victory awaits."

No sooner did the Blood Lord utter those confident words as he stumbled on legs that weakened significantly.

"What's wrong?" Noranda asked, moving to steady him.

He brushed her off, not wanting the assistance. What was wrong was not in doubt. Something had gone missing rather suddenly from within Lars. "One of the Blood Bonds I share has been severed."

"Cassandra?" There was a panic in Noranda's tone.

"No." His own ego forcing him to stand up, Lord Hedric cast his eyes to the north while excepting the loss. The sky was clear for a moment. But he knew there was a problem approaching from that direction.

Soon, faintly, over the peaks of mountains there was an outline upon the sky.

Lady Noranda too stood there and watched as the lone form grew closer on beating wings.

"Riders!" Commander Halond's voice rose up to gain the attention of the troops, seeing what they saw as well. "Mount!"

"Belay that order." With a wave of his hand, Lord Hedric gave the command to stand down. Though why, he wasn't sure.

"Sir?" Spyglass tight against his one eye, the other clenched shut, Commander Halond offered his assessment. "It's a white."

Lord Hedric growled within his throat. "From the northern continent."

"How did it get here?" Noranda asked.

Searching his being, Lars found the last moments of the demon's life within this realm and knew what it had seen. "I believe an old friend of yours is on the way."

No sooner did he say that then it was obvious to the naked eye that the incoming dragon was indeed a massive white. Carried under its belly in deadly claws was a form of mutilated emerald crystal refracting the sun's rays. Passing overhead, it released the carcass with broken horns and severed limbs. The lifeless and dismembered body of the demon Noranda had summoned thumped into the unyielding mountaintop and bounced across its surface before skidding to a halt. All while the Imperial black and red dragons roared in agitation and snapped at the white from the ends of their tethers anchored firmly into the hard stones of the mountain. Each tried to take off on their own without riders, rattling their chains.

The newly appeared beast and its rider did not attack, however. They only circled back and landed between the shrine's entrance and where Lord Hedric and Lady Noranda stood with the Empire's own force of dragons and troops that had been slowly funneling in, but now stopped at the sight before them.

Noranda shielded her eyes against the dust the monster's wings kicked up.

Lars stood defiantly in the face of the gritty breeze. The white was fully one and a half times the size of any black or red dragon the Empire employed.

Lowering her arm, Lady Noranda froze as the sight of the rider in white robes clarified in her vision. "You?"

Sitting atop the back of the beast, exuding a confident posture and glaring at the Red Witch, was the cleric reigning defiantly over the corpse of the now dispatched, for a second time, Ancient One. Her once long cinnamon hair hacked short to above her shoulders, the edges hastily cut jagged matched her demeanor.

She and her dragon stood there like a blockade of confidence against a rising tide of evil. "Lady Noranda. We meet again, Red Witch."

Compared to the continued primal urges of the Imperial dragons to attack, the white scaled beast stood stoic before them in its calm silence. Almost regarding them as nothing more than annoyances.

Lady Noranda had already begun calling on the forces within The Dark itself as she seethed internally at this woman's smug brashness. The word of power she previously came to learn was again on her lips once more, ready to be spoken. But the fallen angel hesitated to utter it, remembering their previous encounter and the scars she still bore.

The cleric was not as hesitant. She summoned a shield of light, and then a spear as long as a lance while the silent standoff continued. "Your voice appears to have gone missing," she said from atop her perch. "Speak the word of power that I know is on the tip of your tongue. But, understand this, I know it as well, having heard you speak it. Come, we can destroy each other right here and now."

"You think a taunt of mere words is enough to take on me, a Blood Lord, and an entire army? You are a gnat, child. Even with that creature you sit atop. One white is not enough." Noranda unleashed a burst of the energy she had gathered; its purpose to rend the earth apart as she had during their first encounter at Ishenvol.

But, as the mountain did quake, threating to knock any common man and beast alike from their feet, it did not topple the cleric or her dragon. In fact, the stones did not shatter at all and the ground did not open to consume her.

The attack having failed, Lady Noranda shifted tactics and summoned the damnable fires of The Dark. Lashing out, she cast them forth to consume her opponent.

In response, the white dragon the cleric had as her only ally opened its maw and shot forth a burst of frost laden breath to counter the flames in a brilliant display of steaming water when ice and fire met.

Lady Noranda ceased her assault upon realizing the futility of her desired and direct course of action to destroy the annoying cleric.

With an amused look, the rider of the white replied. "You are probably correct. I would doubt I would be able to survive an assault by myself." She patted the scales on the neck of her own dragon. "Even with my friend here. Although I am certain my death, and the numbers of both man and beast alike that I would take with me, would be legendary. Thankfully, however, I do not stand alone this day."

In her palm, the cleric produced a single purple and luminous flower. A Vessary Blossom.

The signal given, her own forces materialized from within the fairy realm where they had been waiting.

To Daphney's right were an array of rebel soldiers, Anthony at their fore and prepared to lead the ragtag assortment scrounged together from those who remained willing to fight. Each had been given a single thread of fairy silk to make the journey, and the side effects often experienced by their human heritage calmed by blessings of the true cleric who now led them.

And to her left, Ittan appeared along with contingent upon contingent of elven soldiers—survivors of the assault upon their homelands who fled through the fairy ways when defeat was all but assured. Among his troops were an entire cavalry of warriors mounted on horse sized green dragons, ready for war and decked out in fancily articulated armor. Their claws tipped with razor-like caps, each bore the markings of the House to which their rider belonged.

While most of the elves donned the traditional blue dyed cloaks of fairy silk, there were numerous others draped in a deep, forest green. Those were only worn by one House of elven blood—the House of Nador and their elite warriors and mages.

Long had it been since the fallen angel witnessed any who bore such a bold feature. She'd believed they all perished at the First Battle of the Mount. Apparently, some had fled and chosen to fight another day.

The odds had evened. Perhaps, Noranda bemoaned silently, even tilted against the Imperial forces worn down from marching over hard terrain for days. And that was taking into account their own horde of dragons champing at the bit to fight and rend enemies limb from limb.

She feared not even her and Lord Hedric together could win this day, now that the cleric had shown she was capable of countering her dark magics.

"Stand down," the cleric ordered with her own army assembled and at the ready. "Leave this place now. It is not for your kind. Relinquish your claims to the throne of Hitithe! We do not wish to shed blood once more upon this holy ground, but be assured that we shall if it comes to that." She hefted her spear overhead and issued one final proclamation. "Hitithe will be reborn this day!"

There was a roaring cry from the troops she had amassed upon hearing those inspiring words.

Noranda did not look to see what Lord Hedric's reaction was. But his silence told her that he was worried.

"Foolish girl!" Noranda's bellowing tone was accompanied by a rising gust of wind as she lifted her hands skyward. "Our forces will not back down!" Cold darkness swirled around her hands. If a direct attack would not work, there were other options available to her to tip the balance back in their favor.

With an outward push of her hands, she released the power in a burst that thudded into and through the chests of all present. But while the living felt it, it was not meant for them. The air swirled in shadow, darkening the sky even against the dominant light of the day. Tendrils of it gripped around the remains of long dead soldiers and pulled them from their ancient rest upon the ground. An army of undead in various states of completeness found their legs and their time to rise and fight again.

Even those who were not allies in life would become allies in death.

Some were taught skinned remnants of those that had fallen and closely resembling their former selves, including the tattered remains of facial hair. Others mere skeletons, or mostly so. While still others were vastly incomplete; perhaps an eyeless skull and an arm clutching a sword, while the rest of their body was a black mass of mist.

Dozens of Noranda's shade servants, their eyes glowing like blood, joined their army with the sun now blotted out. That alone easily doubled the force of Imperial troops seeking to take the shrine. But when a legion of Dark Elves also appeared, much in the same way as the cleric's forces had, the odds became daunting for the would-be defenders.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show, Abbatt," Lars hissed, a sense of relief exiting him with the statement.

"Once the cleric brought the flower here, it was easy enough to discern the path." The Dark Elf spat back, dismayed his loyalty was being questioned.

Lars growled his distaste for the situation as it spiraled out of hand. "No matter how many times I try to do things without killing people, the foolish always insist on dying, anyway."

Lady Noranda looked over her shoulder to Lord Hedric as he stood there, fists clenched in frustration. "Go. Retrieve the Tear." She encouraged him. "I will handle this."

He turned his blue eyes with the tint of red to her and nodded. "I'm counting on you to do so."

"I won't fail you. Can you sense a connection to the shadows beyond the entrance?"

Lars closed his eyes as neither force upon the mountain moved against the other. The darkness was not complete, but he could indeed discern the calling shadows beyond the door. The link was weak, but he could exploit it and get behind the enemy's lines. "Yes."

"Then go. Find Cassandra, her sister, and the Tear. Secure our victory."

Lars nodded. And in the wink of an eye, he was gone into darkness.