An explosion to my right made me throw myself to the ground. Battle-clad Centaurs thundered past as commands came from all directions. Their orders reached my ears but were soon barely audible over the clash of weapons that seemed to erupt from everywhere.
The screams of death echoed around me like wraiths stealing souls. Roars of fury reverberated from the terrain and the armor of soldiers. All of this set off a rush of adrenaline, and I could feel my pulse quicken and my body shake in anticipation of what else the vision would bring. I pushed myself up, flinching as another explosion shook the ground, and I carefully navigated through the battlefield and the bodies littering it.
Whatever this vision wanted to show me, it sure as hell was making me work for it.
I felt a pull and turned, recognizing the feeling. I squinted through the smoke from the explosions, which seemed continuous, and looked toward the long, narrow ridge on the hilltop ahead. I could make out the King’s sigil, remembering it from the time he had marched his army toward the Rift. I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes at the small group of riders on horseback. I wanted to head there, wanted to follow its pull.
Atlashadto be up there.
So, as I allowed the vision to take me closer, I looked up to see that now only two riders remained on the ridge. My confusion grew as that same instinct told me that Atlas was moving away,and fast.Seconds later, a deep rumble shook the entire hill, and my vision wavered, making the ghostly figure of me ripple like a skipping stone cast across the water. I barely kept myself together as a crack ripped through the earth with a noise so loud it silenced the battlefield instantly. Swords froze mid-swing. Shields lowered. All eyes turned to the ridge.
Then the ground began to move.
And as other soldiers fled past me, I remained rooted to the spot, seeing the horror unfold before me. Watching as the whole ridge split open with a final, thunderous crack. One of the riders was instantly swallowed by the earth, the other scrambling desperately to escape the collapsing ground.
A blur across the shifting earth caught my eye. It was a lone soldier, and he ran as if the hill were perfectly still, weaving over tilting stone and rolling earth with unnatural balance. He didn’t slow until he was beside the rider. One who was almost completely buried under the dirt, except for the hand reaching up through the debris in hopes someone would somehow save him.
The soldier lunged and seized the man’s wrist just as the remainder of the ridge tore free with a deafening roar. For a heartbeat, they hung suspended in empty air. The soldier’sboots skidded over loose gravel, and the rider dangled helplessly beneath him. Then the ground that had buried him continued to fall away like sand slipping through a giant’s hands.
However, when the ground shifted again, the soldier should have slipped, but he didn’t. No, something kept him grounded, and I looked harder, searching for what I suspected it could be. In the cloud of dirt clinging to the air, there they were, barely visible. The tendrils of darkness curled like fingers, clasping his boots to the earth.
My breath caught.
He pulled the rider upward in a single lift of pure strength, bringing him backwards out of sight and away from what remained of the ridge edge.
This corporeal manifestation of me started sprinting toward them, but the fresh ground uncovered by the ridge began to collapse, now swallowing my feet and slowing me to a crawl. But it was like there was my own war going on inside me. As if two forces were fighting against what one wanted me to see and what the other didn’t. The darkness was trying to put obstacles in my way, while the other side was forcing me to endure.
One second, my movements felt impossible, and the next, I was ploughing through the rumble as if I was breaking through the tide. Until suddenly there I was, exactly where I needed to be. Right at the top of what remained standing of the ridge. Right next to the rider who lay on his back, breathing in thin, ragged gasps.
Gasps I mirrored when I realized who it was.
Lazaros.
And kneeling beside him, gripping his shoulders and urging him to open his eyes was none other than his brother.
The man who had stood by Lazaros’s side in the throne room. Younger by several years, but unmistakable. And Lazaros, even barely conscious, looked healthier here.
More alive. Unaffected. Untouched by the darkness.
More like Atlas.
I turned toward the ruined hillside, taking in the collapse of land as it was laid bare in its entirety. It showed a perfectly straight, impossibly clean break through the earth.
He had done this.
He had caused the disaster, and in doing so, it made Lazaros the victim. A victim he could save in order to gain his trust. A trust that would forge a sense of loyalty. Damn, he was clever, I would give him that. This performance of his had been executed perfectly because to everyone on the battlefield below, and more importantly, to Lazaros, this man was a hero.
But I knew the truth.
A cough brought my attention back to Lazaros, who was looking at his savior with wide eyes.
“Th… thank… you,”Lazaros said after a shaking breath. “For… for saving me. The throne owes you a great debt.”
I noticed the twinkle in the man's eye, and I knew that was precisely what he wanted. But the twinkle faded, replaced with feigned seriousness in a heartbeat. After all, he still had a part to play.
“I am sure you would have done the same, your highness. There is no debt to repay,” he said, as if he were on a soap opera, ridiculously over the top. I scoffed at his words and wondered how Lazaros would interpret them, but he moved on without question.
“What… what is your name?”
