Prolouge

Havel screamed, thrusting his sword at the charging Capra, feeling the point pierce the beast's black abdomen. A bone jaw opened from under its bleached skull as it ran down the blade, arms still swinging twin bloodsoaked cleavers. Havel abandoned the sword and dodged to the side. His shoulder slammed into mud, while he focused spirit into his left hand, the last few drops he could squeeze out. The Capra turned swiftly and charged him down with a bone-chilling roar. It started two steps before a screeching blast shot from Havel's gauntlet into the swordpoint embedded in its stomach. It stumbled and its eyes widened with fear as cracks of blue light crept up its black chest. The creature scratched at its stomach, trying to tear the cracks away. It then turned its rage-filled eyes to Havel and roared, taking one more step towards him, but the blue glow reached its neck and erupted, rending horned head from giant body.

He heard another roar to his side as a one-legged Capra clawed through a pool of bodies towards him. Havel aimed the gauntlet at an arrowhead lodged in its ribs. He gathered spirit, praying for one more shot, but his body went limp with spirit sickness and he collapsed face-first into the mud, his tongue tasting something metallic. The beast crawled at him, jaw agape. Havel let his gauntlet fall and closed his eyes, waiting for the end. But a blast of blue light came from its flank, landing true at the arrowhead and the Capra was ripped to pieces in an explosion of spirit force.

Havel forced his head askew to check for more enemies, but he only saw a bright morning sun peeking through his castle's white walls – what remained of it – and an uneven ground littered with corpses.

"We have done it." A weary voice called out over Havel's ringing ears.

Havel stumbled to his knees and saw Estrada standing over him, hand outstretched, his gauntlet still steaming from the last shot. The man seemed to have aged years in just five days. Havel appraised himself in a puddle of blood, touching wrinkled and cracked skin. So did he, it would seem. He took Estrada's hand and staggered to his feet with much effort, falling several times before he righted himself. Torn bodies, burnt bodies assailed his sight as far as the arid plain stretched.

"Where is Fellice?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

"Your daughter is alive. Gheal found her spirit sick body at the Swallow Gate. The Capras must have thought she was dead."

Havel breathed, relieved.

"How about Ronso? Hjarnan? Khimar?"

Estrada shook his head to all. "They fought bravely. We are all that's left of the Oathkeepers."

"Is this – no, we had to." Havel shook his head. They lost too many lives for him to have doubts now, not just his friends and family, but the chimaeras too. His mind clear after the battle-high, he nearly choked on the acrid stench of burnt flesh and the metallic odour of boiled blood.

Leaning on Estrada, he limped towards his castle, and the ringing in his ears cleared a smidgen, letting him hear the cries of the wounded mingled with muddled cheers. Havel heard the dead plain alive with victory. A floppy-eared Hase embraced a nimble Feolin next to the fallen wall, crying into each other's arms, while an Elkind with a broken antler thumped his chest at Havel in a salute. A pack of hunched Cleyrs rested on the ground. They knelt when Havel passed. Soon, the insectoid Zhects staggered out the courtyard. They too bowed before him before searching for the wounded. Havel stood in awe as he went deeper into the keep. He estimated less than three hundred chimaeras left.

"So few ..." Havel mumbled.

"This keep was hit the hardest, brother. My forces are running down the stragglers as we speak." Estrada said.

"No. If they surrender, let them go. They were only following their witchlord's orders."

Estrada nodded. "As you wish, I will leave the common chimaeras be, as long as they surrender."

"Even the Capras, Estra. Without their Witchlord to poison them, perhaps they can change."

Estrada looked displeased. "They are monstrosities created only to wage war."

"That's all they were allowed to know. This is not our world anymore. It is theirs. Don't let your last command be one that sheds blood."

They stumbled into the courtyard and Estrada spoke to a messenger Hase to send off new orders. He then shouldered Havel into the keep, who wilted at the sight. The home of his childhood was destroyed. Gone were the crimson carpets and tapestries. The delicate stone dome had been broken open by siege engines. The seven thrones were vacant, some defiled with blood, and a man lay dead next to one, his stomach ripped open by a Capra cleaver still embedded within. At his feet was the Capra, chest burst open in a display of black blooded gore. The man's gauntleted hand pulsed weakly with spirit energy. Soon, even that would go out. Havel touched his forehead and then his shoulder in salute: "Witchlord Khimar, sleep, for we inherit your oath."

The brothers limped past the body deeper into the keep, beyond the reliquary, and into a chamber guarded by two Elkind chimaeras, who saluted and allowed them in. Within and on a pedestal was a silver-bound book embellished with gold and littered with gems in an 'arabesque' design. The ancients specifically used the word 'arabesque' when referring to it, a word referencing a place not found in Haven. Havel ran his fingers down its pages, imagining the world beyond, the home of their forefathers. Finally, they would fulfil their oath.

"So, when do we leave?" Estrada said.

"Not leave, Estra. Return."