Sinandria, the last Heir of Sinarduir, has been imprisoned on the Hidden Platform as her country was broken and reformed by Archimedus the Treacherous. She wept at the cruel ceremonies on the Day of Revolution in every year, as one of the Royal Guards was placed on the remnant of the citadel Nimirith Sindárium and burned alive. Her heart was filled with sorrow and hatred, and her will of escaping was kindled. On the night two days before the Day of Revolution, she began her plan. 

It was a calm and windless night with the dark heaven lit by faint, wraithlike starlight that shine pallidly on the ghostly figure of the princess. She stood at the edge of the platform, staring at the abyss beneath. Her raven hair sway with the cold wind, and her pale white dress was mingled with the darkness surrounds. She murmured some inaudible words that were shredded by the wind, and in a sudden, she leaps forward into the dark void. Fierce and merciless wind blew beside her, as she fell down without control. Her body fall like an injured white gull, and her dress fluttered like cracked wings of birds, flapping desperately. Her face was covered with her dark hair as they twisted around her and entangled with her arms. Then a swift shadow pass beneath her body and veiled her existence. She was then taken away by its turbulence of wind and disappeared into the darkness. 

The shadow revealed itself as a giant eagle-head beast appeared beneath Sinandria. The beast appeared similar to a giant eagle, but it has four powerful gigantic wings instead of two, and it has four claws with nails sharp like blades. Its tail was long and feathery, and it stirs the wind, making the huge beast flies agilely in the sky. This beast is an Aquiläustel, the Eagle of the Stars and Heaven, and this specific one that carried Sinandria is Cellaé the Potent. Cellaé and Sinandria has long been friends and allay, as they support each other in their needs. Sinandria saved Cellaé’s life when she was traveling in the Forest of Alakai. She discovered the wounded Aquiläustel and cut of threads of ropes that entangled Cellaé’s neck, and healed its wounds with plants. From there on the friendship between Sinandria and Cellaé began. This time, Cellaé came to her desperate moments, and assisted her escape from the cruelty of imprisonment. Sinandria grabbed Cellaé’s long feathers on the back and lay herself down to feel the breeze of the wind. She saw the three floating platforms aloft, beneath the furry body of Cellaé. The torches burning aflame lit the platforms into an eerie yellow glow as other parts of the city were shrouded in impenetrable darkness. The coarse platforms, made by big chunks of wood and iron junctures, marred the original beauty of the firmament. “The accursed platforms, their crude shapes defile the marvel of the heavens.” Sinandria said with disgust. “Indeed. For their evil flame they lit now, the evil flame them it devours.” Cellaé replied in the tongue of Aqilurish, the language of Aquiläustel. Sinandria stared at the platforms and saw some of the guards, clothed by black iron coats and holding piercing spears, walking around on the platforms like hounds of a hunter. “Cellaé, fly higher into the sky. The guards will see us.” Sinandria requested. Then higher they flew, into the clouds and higher than the clouds, and the platforms are nothing but a single black dot.

Days and nights Sinandria flew with Cellaé and the world roamed beneath them. When four days on the eagle back has passed, they finally arrived at the mountain of Rúfuharnallë, the Holy Land of Rúfuharn. The mountain pierced though the thick layer of white cloud with its precipice jutting toward the azure sky. Unmelting snow covered its summit. There at the highest flatland there lies the City of Rúfuharn, the Sanc-harenai, the last saint city of the Rúfuharum, the religion of the Red Sand. Its tall and unbreakable citadel was decorated with monuments made out of red sand, and it was used as a monumental architecture that serves the God of All, Rú Hárctall, the creator of the world in Rúfuharum. There were several smaller architectures that hang on the cliff of the mountains. Out of the Gate of Rúfuharn Cellaé landed, and it said to Sinandria: “Here shall be our parting. You need to go into Rúfuharum. For the people of Rúfuharn are few but benign, and their country close to my dwelling.” Sinandria replied: “So I will seek refuge and assistance here? For this place was forgotten and abandoned, as I have heard from ancient lore.” “Rúfuharnallë is forgotten by the people elsewhere, but it is not abandoned. For it thrived on the summit of Rúfuharnallë because their religion inherited from the old has held the breaking community together. In this complicated yet deceptive world, this is the simplest and most trust-worthy place that exists. You need to overcome your suspicion and embrace this place.” Sinandria, after pondering Cellaé’s words, then replied: “You are honest, and I trust you in my heart. For Rúfuharn I shall enter, and for your assistance in my escape I shall never forget.” “I hope we will soon be united in peace, after this is all over.” It replied with light sorrow. Cellaé then flapped its potent wings and flew into the sky. There, outside the Gate of Rúfuharn was the parting of Sinandria the princess and Cellaé the potent. For both of the fates unknown and the future lied veiled in mystery.

After Sinandria landed outside of the gate of Rúfuharn, she marched through the snow to reach gate. The white snow reflects the light and shine like opal under the bright sun. Sinandria pulls her dark grey cloak to cover her sullied hair and ragged garments. She then reached the Gate of Rúfuharn, dyed in a dark red colour and majestically built, as its arches extended towards the sides. Curious markings of symbols and patterns were carved inside the stones of the gate, representing its religious meanings. Two guards, cloaked in furry hoods and orange red armour, held the long spears and cross them in front of the gate. The cross of the spears blocked the passage of the gate, and Sinandria was questioned. “lady, for now you are entering Rúfuharn, the forgotten country of the Red Sand hosts. It is hidden from the outside, and may I inquire how you find us?” One of the guards spoke with a cool tongue. “I am Tristica, and I am from the boarders between Sprulisa and Sprince. For the country of Sprulisa was in war, and my kin died in the battlefield. I was trapped in between, and I fled to the woods. An Aquiläustel, who named itself Cellaé, found me. It carried me out of the fields and told me to march to the Mountain of Rúfuharnallë to seek refuge.” Sinandria answered. Then the other guard said with a kind voice: “For my name is Aeglor, and the guard beside me is my brother Aehor. Cellaé has long been a friend to the country. If you claim yourself to be saved and directed by Cellaé, then you proved yourself to be kind in heart, and you shall enter into the forgotten realm.” Aehor then said: “When you entered, you need to go to the Halls of Visitors, and you will find greetings there.”  Sinandria thanked the guards and entered the Gate of Rúfuharn. She walked with marvel into the country. The houses beside the street were magnificent and delicately made, with blocks and pillars of red sand. Carvings and patterns that represent stories of the religion was decorated on the pillars and roofs, as all parts of the country was cleaned to be dustless, as the blocks shine under the radiant sun. She then walked to the Halls of Visitors, which is covered by a great dome and supported by several pillars. There a woman greeted her with warmth. She wore a dress of silk and grey fabrics, decorated by silver patterns. Her hair, like threads of silver, falls down her shoulders like a cascade of white water. Her eyes were grey, like the snow of the mountains. She said: “Welcome to Rúfuharn. We have no visitors for almost ten years! My name is Sivica, and I will guide you in Rúfuharn.” “Hello, for I am Tristica, and I came from the boarder of Sprince and Sprulisa.” They walked together under the sunlight, and entered the region of Rúfuharn called Hosprús, the visitors’ region. There, the buildings turned from dark orange to a light orange mixed with bright yellow, like the colours of the warm spring. They passed under an arch-stone and entered into the houses for Tristica. “It is tradition that the guest will dwell with their guide, often called Qúichie. Therefore, I will live nextdoor to your dwelling.” Sivica said, smiling. Tristica replied: “The tradition of Rúfuharn is delightful and warm, and it is such a pleasure to live in this beautifully-made house.” Therefore, after such perils and sorrows, Sinandria, Princess of Sprulisa, finally found a peaceful place to dwell and ease her pain, although under the name of Tristica.

From the balcony of the house of Tristica, vast landscapes could be seen: the mountainous and broken earth; the entwining river, flowing like a blue snake; the white pallid snow that covered the summits of the mountains; and the rough, perpendicular cliffs that seemed to be chopped of by the Great Axe of Gods. Cold wind blew gently on the face of Tristica, as her raven hair lay down at her shoulders. Her deep and profound eyes stared into the grey yonder, where her broken and decayed homeland, Hexavigorrim Sprulisa, was located. There the sun descends down the heaven and gradually became bigger and dimmer. The white radiance turned into an eerie orange glow, and then a dimmer red luminance. Scarlet and purple clouds veiled the sun, as its light smoldered, dying the clouds into a dark crimson. Tristica turned away from the balcony, as she knew that when the light of the sun grows fainter, three dots of bright light will appear in the darkness. Those were the torchlights from the Three Platforms that she hated, and they marred the peace of the starlit night. The lamps in her room were faint but warm, as their orange glow and warmness filled her heart with hope once again. At least I am safe and in peace now. For the revenge I can wait, as the hatred will not die, she thought. Then Tristica left the room and shut the door, strolled to the house next door, and knocked on the wooden door of the house of Sivica. She opened the door, and they went to the Feasting Hall for dinner.

After the fine dinner, Tristica and Sivica walked beside each other, and they climbed onto the Stel-Obtutai, the Platform of Stargaze. Tristica leaned on the fence of the platform and stared at the mountains. Sivica stood beside her and followed her eyesight until she reached the three bright dots near the horizon. “For those dots of light are recently illuminated, and they seem to lay in the borders of Sprulisa. What are those? New watchtowers that extend into the heaven?” “Those are no watchtowers, Sivica, but three great platforms built by the rebels whose name I do not speak. They dwell there, followed with their great sinister against the country.” “For you speak of them in great sorrow, and your eyes filled with hatred. What have they done?” Sivica asked. Tristica replied: “They slew my kin and my friends, and they marred our homeland, they plundered all of our properties, and the armies stirred and broke the peace that had long lived in Sprulisa. My life changed on that day, so called the Day of Revolution.” “For such evil deeds made by the repels, why does not Sprince help? I have been told of their strong armies.” Tristica then grew a little wrathful: “Sprince? They are no allies to Sprulisa. They are only business partners who trade with us, but not friends who will support us in great need. They flew from the borders of Sprulisa.” Then her anger died and said calmly: “For they are also in war, busy in the defending and invasion of the land of the Grasslanders. It is vain to blame them.” Then she continued: “I could not think of that day, when the citadel of Sprulisa burnt in a great fire, as being crushed by the jaws of a great beast. The once marvelous and powerful flying ships were ruined in the hands of the rebels. Villages were destroyed, and people screamed and cried in the city, as the poisonous blades of the rebels cut their throats, and their bodies stepped under the army. The royal guards, cloaked in snow-white armor, defended the country desperately but were overwhelmed by the number of rebels. Their white garments were stained dark red by the blood of their own. Their broad shields were broken, spears fractured; and their silver helmets, together with their heads, fell on the ground. That day, blood spilled over the Wooden Realm, and it’s no longer wooden, as all of the structures burned in the fire. As the rebels fought, the sky darkened, and the ruinous fire filled the dark sky with a fiery glow. The heir of the Kings of Old were slain and captured, and nowhere to be seen.” Tears fall down on her cheek, and she wept. Sivica hugged her, then said: “For your home was ruined, and your sorrow is great, but there is no way that time could be turned, and there is no way to prevent all this. It might be unchangeable, the fate of our own, and the fate of the world. For we are but a small part of this vast earth. But, if we all do something, the rebels might be defeated, Sprulisa shall be back.” Tristica then said: “I am overthrown, and my country ruined. I should have killed myself, but I do not want to die in regret, and I should not be powerless. I will not ask you for understanding, because for my regret and sorrow I afraid they might be beyond your comprehension.” “For your words are proud and powerful, and I believe a person like you will not end like this. And yes, you are right, for my kin were not slayed in battle, and your sorrow is great. Although I cannot comprehend them due to their profundity, I can understand them.” Sivica then replied. Tristica then stared into the wild, as the calm wind of night dried her tears. The lights of the platforms were veiled by the clouds, and the mountainous landscape was canopied by the clouds, nowhere to be seen. Her eyes then cleared, and turned to Sivica, and said with potency and pride: “For the wrongs committed by my foes, I shall not commit again. But their wrongs will not be forgotten, and their harms done to the other shall be done again on them.” Sivica stood stone-still, for she was amazed yet frightened by the power of a person from a remote country. Those words do not belong to the person that she described herself to be, but rather a leader of an army, a conqueror of lands, and a ruler of a realm, she thought. Then she said: “Your words are powerful, and I believe you are a person in potency. But be aware, that you should not be controlled by your hatred of your foes, or you will become your own foe.” Then Tristica replied: “For your words are wise, and I will remember them in my heart until the end of all things. Your country is friendly and benign, as Cellaé described to me. Yet it is also intelligent and wise, which amazed me.” Long they stood on the Stel-Obtutai, and long they talked to each other. Through the words of Sivica Tristica’s pain eased, and through the calmness of Rúfuharn her happiness returned to her.

The next day, before dawn broke through the sky, a secret meeting between the Quinchies were held in the Secret Hall. Sivica discussed their new guest with the others, and claimed that she is potent and wise, and should be respected. “For her words are powerful and herself proud, and also the great perils that she had gone through, she is likely kin of a great line of rulers. But herself mentioned none of her ancestors, and she claimed that all of her kin are slain by the rebels. For her identity is unknown to us, but herself is intelligent and keen in person, I propose that she will be formally welcomed to this country and receive respect.” Then a Quinchi named Salfca said: “For this decision I agree, but I propose that we should observe her and then grant her the citizenship of Rúfuharn.” Then, Tristica was being listed on the List of Honor for approval, and this all of the Quinchies agreed.

Another two weeks passed, as Tristica wondered in the realm of Rúfuharn, and she befriended the Quinchies. Then she was named to be a formal citizen, not a visitor anymore. Then her dwelling moved to the Stel-Praetorin, the Hall below the Stars, and she continue to live with Sivica as her neighbor. They together had great friendship during the days when Sinandria the Princess lingered in Rúfuharn, and their friendship proved to be essential in the later days.

The Princess of Sprulisa, Sinandria, under the name of Tristica, had been granted the citizenship of Rúfuharn. Her intelligence and elegance had won her love in the country, and the Qúinchies all had respect for her. In peace and harmony, she was living in Rúfuharn for three and a half years, and her hate and ill-will had been eased by the beauty and kindness of the realm of Red Sand. A day before the New Year, Sivicia called upon Tristica, and asked her to visit Sanc-harenai. For their city, Rúvictor, was the City of Visitors in Rúfuharn. The main city was not far from it, though dangerous cliffs need to be climbed, and deep chasms need to be crossed. Sivicia said: “I am currently involved in an affair among the Quinchies, and I need to go the Sanc-harenai for a meeting. Would you wish to come with me to lay your eyes upon the marvel of the Saint City?” Tristica, bored by her unchanging life, gladly agreed. Sivicia took a sword from her bag. It’s white and pure blade, like a snow on the summit of Rúfuharnallë, shine beneath the sun like a gleaming jewel. The blade was sharp, as it can slice flesh like water. The gleams of white were shaded by black scabbard, which had silver decoration upon it, and the characters from the Red Sand religion. Sivicia then said: “This is Nigriath, the blade of pureness. For the road to Sanc-Harenai is perilous, and a sword could save lives. Also, this blade will guide you when you are near the edge of corruption, and it shall give light to whatever darkness you are swelled into.” Tristica replied: “For I am a mere traveler whose country was ruined. How could I afford to be gifted so greatly?” “The gift is not a gift for status, but a gift for mind. You are a bold dreamer, and your plans great. For your intelligence the sword is the best fit. Great intelligence that gone astray will be harming and ruinous, and the sword can save you from losing your way.” Sivica then handed a wooden walking stick that she said to be helpful during the journeys. And Tristica thanked her.

Then they leaved the Rúvictor, and march on to embrace the wildness. They travelled on great roads that were once abandoned and hanging bridges aloft of the deep valley; the snows covered their trail as they walked. Ancient trees growing out of bond and dying grass on the freezing ground were present though out the journey. Then they reached the Bridge of Danger, the Pericutem. Tristica could go no further, and asked Sivica: “The bridge is only supported by two thin threads on both sides of the valley, and the wooden platforms are corrupted by the rain. For the wind is great and it trembles it, and the abyss below it is certain death. I do not think we can made it to the other way. Are there alternatives?” “Yes, but it will take us two additional days to get around the chasm. Nights at snow mountains are more dangerous than this bridge. For I have crossed it several times, and I believe that it will not fall.” So Tristica marched on, laying hands on the threads, cautiously taking every step. For the bridge was swaying with the wind, and a sudden blow shook the bridge so violently that they could move no further. “We are stuck! The winds are so strong! We have to wait!” Tristica shouted, wishing her voice was loud enough to overcome the howls of the wind. “Waiting is certain death! We have to move on.” Sivica shouted back, and she marched further. Tristica walked reluctantly, and a sudden quaver of the bridge flung her to the side, and her lamp fell of the bridge, and its light diminished into the darkness below. She then moved on, with great fear but determine, and she at last touched the other side.

They then move on, and Tristica followed Sivicia closely. The sky was growing darker and darker, for the sun was descending down behind the mountains of Rúfuharn. Then finally, they reached the Gate of Sanc-harenai, and quickly entered. Lamps and candles lighten the city lime stars, and the red halls seemed like a warm autumn. “The people of Rúfuharn created such marvel in a perilous place, for such accomplishment perhaps I will never reach.” Tristica said

in marvel. Then Sivicia, hearing her words, replied: “It is possible, for this city is the accumulation of wisdom and effort. No one will accomplish it alone, and rather in a group.”

They are settled in the city in cosy houses, and the next morning Sivicia went to the meeting in the Halls of Divine, so Tristica wondered in the city, exploring its greatness. The morning of the early spring on a snow mountain was paradoxically warm, and the structures of great complexity stood in the warm breeze from the wind. Tristica spend the morning staring at the city and gazing beyond, and her eyes travel between peaks of mountains and trees of old. Pass noon, Sivicia still hadn’t appear, so Tristica decided to exit the gates and go into the wild. After she returned and wanted to enter into Sanc-harenai again, two strangely looking guards were standing at the Gate of Sanc-harenai. For they are cloaked in black, and their armours painted with ghastly looking red markings, as if washed by blood. Their helmets were decorated by spikes and blades, and they are holding two knifes. Tristica stared at them in horror. They questioned the guards of Red Sand at the Gate, and they are threatening for slaying them. They were no one, but the brutal Tukerions who marred Sprulisa, for their knifes appear the same, and their red markings greatly assemble the ones that Sinandria saw on the Day of Revolution. The hidden city had been found! Rúfuharn is not safe anymore. She thought in terror. When she wished to walk away, but the two guards recognized her. They were the guards who guarded the princess at Aterkamos. They turn away from the guards, and rush two her, with one of them holding iron chains and the other holding a dagger. Tristica, seeing they are chasing her, fled into the woods with fear. But the two guards followed behind. Then Tristica’s anger overcame her fear, for the two guards were likely to be appointed by Archemidus to capture her. But she didn’t know that she was “dead” in Sprulisa, and the guards were actually the scouts of Kazagrûm, who are meant to spy in the mountains. For they were lost in the mountains but found the broken lamp that was accidentally dropped by Tristica, and they found the way to reach the City. But the guards recognized her, and was amazed, and wanted to harm and capture her. They ran toward Tristica with weapons in their hands. One of them threw the dagger at her, but she drew the sword Nigriath, and deflected it. Then he unleashed his knife, and with his companion with the chains, the surrounded Tristica. Tristica glared at them, with fiery in her eyes, then she held the swords tightly, and swung it at the knife of the guard. For her force so great, the knife was thrown to the ground. Then she aimed at the guard with the chains, and swiftly shunned the attacks from him. Then she pierced the leg of the guard using Nigriath, and he gave a tremendous cry that disturbed the surroundings. Black blood spew out of the wound, dying Tristica’s face into scarlet. He fell down on to the snow, as the ground was turn from pure white to a sullied red. The other guard, raged by the hurting of his companion, sliced the arm of Tristica with his blade. She was also in the fiery of revenge, as she copped of the right arm of the guard, and with his blade the flesh fell. Tristica was blinded by rage and wrath, for her intelligence was lost, and her dignity fell. She kicked the guard, and he fell, kneeling on the ground. Then her hand, grasping the head of the guard, pulls it in front of her, and whispered: “Serve your lord in the Hell.” And her other hand, holding Nigriath, spang forth with the blade, and its white radiance pierces though the dark neck as blood spew out like a spring of redness. His head fell on the ground, followed by his body. Then Tristica, tired of fighting, strolled to a boulder, and sat there to rest. Then she saw the guard whose leg was pierced by her was still breathing, and she stepped on his chest, and the blade of Nigriath fall on his chest, ending his piteous life. But Tristica was also troubled by the wound made by the poisonous blade of Tukerions, and the poison was taking her life. She fell onto the ground with the two dead bodies, and the white snow, not far from the Gates of the Saint City, was sullied with murders and blood.

For an unknown period of time had passed, and Tristica woke on the bed in her dwelling at Sanc-harenai. Beside stood Sivica, and a curious look on her face. Tristica was just about to tell her story, but Sivica opened her mouth first. “You had been wounded by the unknown poisons. But skilled healers had healed your wound. You have slew two guards from Sprulisa, as I was told by the guards at the Gate. They saw your fighting, and one rushed there to help you, but discovered that you were slaying a guard by piercing him with your blade, and then you fell on the snow in oblivion.” Sivicia said coolly. Tristica said, with grieve: “For they were trying to capture me. One of them holding a chain that is meant to entangle me, and the other throwing a dagger at me.” “Curious.” “For what is curious? They tried to slay me! If I did not deflect that dagger, then I would not be talking to you now. I would be dead.” Tristica said, and her voice getting higher. “Your skills at fighting amazed both the guards and me. But it is told that even though the two guards are beaten to the ground by you, you did not let them live. You pierced them with your blade.” Sivica remarked. “It is because if I didn’t do that, they will escape and return to Sprulisa, and the Hidden City will be revealed! Large armies will come, Sivicia, and they will ruin the marvels of Sanc-harenai and Rúfuharn because of me.” “Why the discovery that you dwell in Rúfuharn will lead to its ruin? From your description, you are too normal to be deemed like that.” Sivicia said. Then Tristica was greatly troubled. She fell into profound silence and would not speak again. For she knew that if the guards were not slain, and they went to report Achemidus with their findings that the princess is not dead, but living in Rúfuharn, she will soon be captured. Her identity as the last heir of Sinardúir will certainly drive Archemidus to declare war on Rúfuharn. But Rúfuharn is unable to claim victory, if fighting with Sprulisa, and the Turkerions will destroy the last place on earth that is calm and kind. She chose herself to commit murder, not only because she was in wrath and rage (actually she indeed was in irrational rage), but also that this crime will save both herself and the marvel of Rúfuharn. But this could not be told to Sivicia, for the identity of the princess should not be revealed. But if she does not do so, Sivicia will never comprehend her actions. Sivicia, seeing that Tristica was troubled greatly, said calmly: “For whatever caused you to be so fiery in attempting murder, I believe it is deep in your heart, and you have well knowledge of that. But the crime of murder will have its consequences.”

Therefore, Tristica layed on the bed in Sanc-harenai, and pondered deep though out the night. For she knew, she had lingered too long in Rúfuharn, and the wrath of the princess marked that it was time to set up to another journey of wandering.

The radiance of the morning sun pierced though the window, lightening the murky air inside the room. Tristica opened her eyes with great weariness, and she stood up, walked from her room. For two days she had been resting in the enclosed chamber, and the more she rested, the more sorrowful her heart got. As she pondered into the deep waters of her thoughts, Sivicia entered the room, and stood beside her bed. “You have been set to the Judge of the Qúinchies. For now, you have to follow me, and enter the Hall of Divine.” Sivicia said. “For what? I have nothing to be judged.” Tristica asked. “Your murderous actions towards the guards of Sprulisa. But need not be afraid, for the Judge is not a spectacular event, but a caesural meeting.” Tristica nodded and left the bed to follow the steps of Sivicia.

The Hall of Divine was canopied by a gigantic dome, decorated with intricate carvings of characters and symbols of gods in Rúfuharum. Patterns of intwined lines and sharp mountaintops sealed the art inside the walls of the dome. Twelve pillars supported the dome, and they surrounded the centre hall, like the iron bars of a prison cell. A circular wooden table was placed at the centre of the hall, with it twelve chairs, encircling the table. Each of the chairs was occupied by a member of the Qúinchie, and Sivicia, hair pallidly white and face stern, started at Tristica as she entered the hall. She was asked to stand in front of the table, as the twelve people stared at her. The Qúinchie located at the centre of the table, a grieve woman, announced the crime of murder that Tristica had committed. Long and dull was her words, and they flow around the halls, and it echoes back and forth, lasting forever. Tristica was again deep in thought, and her mind flows from the Revolution, to the death of her kin, until the capture of herself. Achemidus’s treacherous face flew before her eyes like a wraith, smiling evilly as his snape-like eyes stared into hers. Then her heart was inevitably filled with rage, and her pride aroused from deep grieve. “It is the time for the appointed to speak and confess.” The dull introduction was finally over. Sivicia, sitting next to her, nudged her using her elbow. Then Tristica slowly spoke. “The murder of the two guards from Sprulisa was no coincidence, nor a planned attack. For me, there is no foreknowledge about their coming to Sanc-harenai. For the two guards, it is likely that they were not here to slay me. But when they recognized my face, as they might have seen in the battle of Revolution, they rushed forth, with armaments, to harm me. This is further expressed in their act of throwing the dagger, which was blocked though self-defence.” Tristica’s words, cold and rational, flow though silent hall. “As for the act of murdering the two guards, even though they are completely harmless,” She continued, “is for saving both me, and the realm of Rúfuharn from the evil of Achemidus.” The Qúinchies was in a fuss, for the name of Achemidus they had never heard of, since Tristica never mentioned it. One said: “Achemidus’s name is unfamiliar. Would you explain?” “He is the leader of the Revolution, and he slay my kin during the battle. He is currently ruling and leading Sprulisa, which this name is abandoned. It is replaced to be Kazagrûm, the realm of ruin.” The hall was silent again.

The Judge of the Qúinchies was over, and they decided that Tristica’s citizenship in Rúfuharn will be abandoned, and she should leave the country the most three days later. But visiting will be welcomed.

“It is sorrow to depart with an old friend, and especially a close one.” Sivicia said when Tristica was packing up in the room. “Your future is veiled with mists of unknown, and your fate is swallowed by uncertainty.” Tristica dropped her paperwork into the fireplace, and the flames devoured them greedily. “How I wish my sins can be burnt in the flames and disappear for ever

from the mortal world.” “Which is impossible. The past cannot be altered.” Tristica then

flung the bag onto her back and girt herself with the sword Nigriath and held the walking stick. They strolled along, until they reached the gate. “Your gifts have been proved for being useful and helpful.” Tristica said, “Therefore, a gift of mine shall be given to you, as a witness of our friendship.” She then handed a long, wooden bow, slender like twigs of trees, shaped like edges of leaves. Yet it was powerful, as the arrows released by it can pierce though every piece of flesh. “This is my bow, Renigah, and may it be the most useful at the time that needs most need.” Then she handed her another item, covered with leather. “This is the map of Celeriand  and the regions around it. I hope that it will guide you when you went astray.” Sivicia thanked her with gratitude, and she said: “I long believed in your wisdom and potency, and I believed that your deed will be great, and your will shall be fulfilled. But be aware of your own sinister, when you are battling other’s; be cautious with your own hate, when you are ruined by others’. You should take control of your emotions, and this will be my final advice. Alas! After all the years you and I spent together, we shall be parted, and our next meet being uncertain. I hope the world doesn’t turn around during this time, and I hope the claws and wrath, sorrow, and hatred shall never reach you.” “Your advice is wise, and I shall follow it, if I can.” Therefore, at the gate of Sanc-harenai, lays the parting of the two greats, Sinandria Tristica, the heir of Sinardúir, and Sivicia Tresqúincha, the welcomer of friends and the kind of heart.

Tristica opened her weary eyes, as the leafy sunlight lighten up her face. She stood up and gathered her equipment. The blade of Nigriath shined peacefully under the radiance of the sun, and the warmth eased the tiresome journey. For twelve days Tirstica was traveling. She climbed the bare and white cliffs of Rúfuharnallë, and descend beside its grey, rocky mountain sides as the never-veiled sunlight showered down to her. She walked beside snow and stone and crossed over chasms and cliffs; the azure sky, not covered by a single piece of cloud, canopied around the stones, and her little shadow beside them. After three days of arduous climbing, her feet touched onto the foot of the huge snow mountains. She turned and saw the great peaks of Rúfuharnallë, veiled by the clouds, mingled into the whiteness of the heaven. She sighed, and her sorrow took her. For the distant heaven and home of her dearest friend was behind, and there was no return. She must embrace the future, whether good or evil. She kept walking, never turning back to look at Rúfuharn. Suddenly, the mountainous region opened, and the tall, towering peaks of the snow mountain disappeared. A vast grassland opened before her, as the sea of green continued to the edge of the world. Tristica stepped into the tall, swaying grass, as they dance slowly with the wind. Her raven hair danced with the grass, and her tunic waved together.

The sun went down, and the wind ceased its gentle blows. Tristica marveled at the stillness and silence of the grasslands, and weariness took her. She lay down and slept beside a tree.

Tristica shook her head, and the memory of her travel dissipates with the breeze of wind. She again stared at the light reflected by Nigriath, as the twinkling light lightened up the surrounding. She stood up and began another day’s march into the unknown. For her, she did not know her destination, nor her path. She kept walking, as if lost between the earth and the heaven. Her steps were slow but light, and her mood peaceful. The wind blew harder, and her pace quickened, like she was racing with the wind.

The wind stopped, and the sun slowly climbed down, sinking beneath the endless green. Tristica stopped, and she lay down in the grass, and looked up into the sky. Stars began to shine, and their distant and faint light decorated the dark firmament like white diamonds on a black velvet. The silence fell onto the grasslands. Tristica sat down and made fire for warmth, and sank into her own thoughts, deep and profound, as her mind travelled in the vast world. She thought about the hate that nearly driven her into madness, and her malice toward Achemidus, and her sorrow toward all of her companions, both dead and alive. She then thought about the fate of her family, the line of Sinardúir, and the mournful fate of her kin. She knew that she was not Tristica the wronged, but Sinandria, the last heir of Sinardúir. Her wisdom and her pride could not be diminished, and her wish of revenge and taking Sprulisa back will not fade. Her heart, already cold with sorrow, was set aflame by the fresh hatred. She stood up violently and realized the quietness of the surroundings. She then sat down in misery, for her, just a stranger wondering, could not revolt against the large army of Achemidus. I need to be patient, and I shall wait until my strength was gathered. She thought. Then, a terrible cry sliced the silence of the grasslands, followed by fierce howls of wolfs. Tristica spang forth, her sword unleashed, pointing at the darkness beyond. She saw pairs of white, gleaming eyes, floating around in the darkness like wraiths of light, surrounded her. Tristica cried in her mind, wild beasts from the fell lands, scavengers of darkness! The wolves had found me, and I have no choice but to fight. The light of the eyes moved closer, and their savage faced could be seen from the glow of the fire. One of the ugly looking wolves leaped forward, and its sharp claws grasped in the air, wishing to rip Tristica into pieces. Tristica held Nigriath tightly, and pierced forward though the wolf’s belly, and black blood spew forward. The body of the wolf was breathless. Seeing this, the angered wolves rushed forward, gnawing and clenching their yellow, sharp teeth. Tristica flung her sword in a circle, chopping heads of the wolf, slicing their bodies. But she was outnumbered. The wolves attack like waves of water, never ending and retreading. Tristica was wounded by the teeth and claws of the wolves, and the dreariness took her. With the last desperate move, she sprang a huge wolf into the fire, and it cried and howled as the flames devoured it. Tristica, seeing this ghastly scene, rushed to grasp her wooden walking stick that Sivica gave to her, and she flung it into the fire. One end of it was set on fire, and Tristica held the other end, using it like a torch. The flame terrified the wolves, as Tristica held the torch and wave it around. Wolves were set on fire, and their body was penetrated by the light of Nigriath. The darkness of the grasslands was lightened, and it arouse the surrounding creatures. As Tristica was fighting fiercely, her hand was bitten by a huge wolf, and the torch her hand was holding fall onto the ground. It was lit with fire, and it swallowed both the wolves and Tristica. Finally, the wolves were still too many to die out, and they continued to attack her. She fell onto the ground, with her sword Nigriath beside her.

Suddenly, great horns and trumpets sounded, as a group of seven riders, cloaked in pure white, arrived at the flames of the grassland. Their long, straight hair were silver-white, and they wore silver garments and armors. Their faces were veiled by semitransparent silk, and they were holding great spears and bows. Their white horses chased the wolves away, and their lamps, radiant and bright, lightened the fate of Tristica. The captain of the riders jumped down from his horse and examined the surroundings. “Celevë!” One of the riders cried to the captain, “There is a dead person here!” Celevë walked to the place that his company was pointing. Tristca lay in the swamp of blood, and the sword was beside her. Celevë touched her. “She is not dead. Carry her to the horses and right her to Lacakï, Halenvë.” The soldier Halenvë then carried her away, and their gleaming horses rushed in the dark grasslands like seven stars, and they ran toward the great tower Lacakï of Acacia.

Tristica was lying on a soft bed. She opened her weary eyes and looked at the surroundings. The room was decorated with grey wood and white blankets, giving it a cold and colourless ambience. Discovering the unfamiliarity and weirdness of the surroundings, Tristica jumped from the bed with vigilance and fear, with her right hand swiftly searching on the left of her waist, wishing to grab Nigriath. But there is no sword nor scabbard beside her waist, and, in fact, all of her armor and gears were not with her. Tristica gave a confused sound and found that she was cloaked in pure white robe, without a single garment that she had worn before on her. After the recovery from the startle, she began to remember the attack of the wolves, and she fell unconsciously onto the ground. I must have died during the wolf attack. Afterall, now I am dead, murdered by the wolves and my body feasted by them. My plans and wills abandoned. Alas! Humans’ lives have always been short and fragile. Are this what heaven looks like? So colorless and cold and sorrowful. She sat on the white bed and stared at the blank wall, and tears filled up her eyes. A faint murmur hit Tristica’s ears. There are people outside, speaking and talking, she thought, and she began to walk to the door of her room. “You are awake. I am glad to see that.” A cool and faint voice behind the door spoke. Tristica was startled. The door opened with a gentle click, and a man, tall and slim, entered the room. His hair was as white as snow, and his limbs slender and long. A silver crown was placed on his head, and it shines brightly as he walked in. “I am Celevë, the rider of Acacia.” He remarked. “…Am I dead? I remember that I was attacked by a group of wild wolves.” Tristica inquired. “You are not dead, nor is this place heaven, or your afterlife. You are surely attacked by wolves and injured to oblivion. You are approaching your doom when we found you.” The tall person said. Tristica asked impatiently: “Then where am I, if not heaven nor afterlife?” “You are sitting in the observing celled in Lacakï, the tower of Acacia.” Tristica was silent. She had never heard of Acacia. This name was unfamiliar, since seldomly have she mind the realms in Randaliand. Celevë then broke the silence. “Your wounds were healed. It is time to end this observance session. You may come with me to the Hall of Lacaia.”

Tristica followed Celevë though the golden walkways of the tower. Slender branches entwined with the grey wooden structures of the hall, and yellow glows from the lamps lightened the halls. They crossed a bridge connecting the two towers, and Tristica could see the wild grasslands decorated by few jutting trees, far into the horizon. “This is the Golden Savanna of Acacia, it is home to us, the Hercolae, the grass-dwellers.” They passed the bridge and headed to the main tower. The main tower of Lacakï, the Lacagradis, was formed by three tangled trees, supporting the golden halls on the top. The hall was decorated with oranges and yellow, like the dawn on the horizon. The hall, a huge, pointed dome on its top, shined like waves of gold under the sunlight. Vines and twigs of orange trees decorated the tower with a bright-colored garment, and lamps, radiating warmth, was hang from those decorations. Golden patterns were inlayed on the branches, making them looked luxurious and prosperous. The golden lights shined on Tristica’s face as they strolled to the Hall of Lacacia. They arrived at the gate of the hall, and went in. Light shined from the windows of the dome, lightening the hall. A gleeful and warm ambience surrounded the Hercolae.

Celevë instructed Tristica to meet the ruler of Acacia, Serlavë the Golden, in the hall. Tristica kneed to him and bowed low. “May the comer of Acacia report her name and her history with authenticity.” He announced. Tristica then spoke about her name, and the story that she told the Quenchies at Rúfuharn. For the story could not be possibly addressed as “authentic”, but it is necessary for her to lie at her identity. After her address, King Serlavë spoke. “You said that you came from Sprulisa. It is a long and exhausting way, how can you possibly get to the Great Grasslands of Acacia?” Tristica told him about the eagle and the Rúfuharhallë Mountains, but not a word about the Lost Realm of Red Sand, Rúfuharn. “The mountain is bare and abandoned, and one can see some ruins of red block buildings covered in snow. There was a great hall with a broken dome. It seemed well preserved, but when I went in, it was empty.” “Behold, traveler. You addressed a revolt at the country of Sprulisa, and you escaped from the war, with all of your kin murdered.” “Yes, my lord.” “And it happened nearly ten years from now.” After carefully calculating the time, Tristica replied: “I believe it was about ten years and two months from now.” “That explains why Sprulisa had stopped trading with us for so long. Messengers were sent to Sprulisa, but they never come back.” The king looked troubled. “My king, for Achemidus’s rule is cruel and unjust. I have heard that he was killing messengers from countries, including Sprince.” “For you, according to your story, had been wondering in the snow mountains and the boarders of Acacia for so long. What is your purpose of this wondering? What are your plans?” “I wish to fight Achemidus and turn back the Great Realm of Sprulisa.” The king looked at her in doubt and arrogance. In his eyes, the cragged and broken figure of a female human was extremely small. He doubted her power and wisdom, and thought that she was only a mere ranger, abandoned by her own country. “Your words are proud, and your dreams big. You shall have my assistance, but the form of it was not yet certain.” The king replied and let Tristica go.

Tristica was suspicious about the king, since she herself knew that her words were too powerless to win the assistance of the king. And it is true that the King was not genuinely helping her. For him, Acacia had relied heavily on the import of goods from Sprulisa. Throughout his long life (Since Hercolae have lifespan of roughly three hundred years) Sprulisa was politically stable, but the ten years Sprulisa was not trading with Acacia anymore. He believed Tristica’s word about the revolt of Sprulisa, but certainly doubted her abilities. He then had an idea. For the observing cell was already full, and there was twelve men and women from various places that was suspicious, but never discovered as criminals or being absolved. Yet they were too suspicious to be released. They will be appointed to the company of Tristica and dressed as Acacia soldiers. This solved the dilemma, King Serlavë thought gladly. He then appointed his general Terilavë, who had done wrong but was too loyal to be punished, to lead the groups of twelve. The next day, the king gave Tristica the company of thirteen people, and wished her good luck. Tristica promised King Serlavë to restore the throne of Sprulisa and brought back the exchange between Acacia and Sprulisa.

The company of fourteen, led by Tristica and Terilavë, marched through the grasslands. When the darkness veiled their future roads, they sat down beside a tree on the grassland and discussed their planes.

Tristica spoke about her past to the company, and they listened quietly. For Tristica was not a powerful speaker, and her words seldomly moved anyone; but her wisdom truly won the loyalty of the company. She often spoke with Terilavë, spoke about her own stories, and listen to his gentle words about his past. “I was the guardian of the Tower of Laficradis, the second main tower of Lacakï. Nearly one hundred years ago, a group of wolf-riders from the Vicious Lands approached the boarders of Acacia. The king appointed me to lead a group of riders to defend our country, but my soldiers died in the battle, gnawed by wolves and pierced by blades. I fought the enemy, not courageously nor heroically, and we are outnumbered. I gathered by troop and started retreating. The enemy’s archers aimed at us, and the remaining company was taken down by their composite bows. Only me, survived by pure chance, returned to Lacakï with guilt and shame. Not only my riders were deed, and the boarders infringed, but also, I survived. I doom myself as a craven, and I never allow myself to go on a battle.” “It is not all your fault, Terilavë. You fought the enemy. You were doing this only for your soldiers’ good.” Tristica replied. “Yes, but I failed the king, thus I was never being appointed anymore.” Tristica comforted Terilavë and began discussing the plans of their future.

Tristica never trusted the twelve suspicious persons. She doubted their loyalty and faith. But she trusted Terilavë, for he was loyal and swift in decisions. One night, they gathered around the campfire under a tree, and talked about their plans. “We will march to the Gap of Stonia, and reach Ëccidum, land of mountains. We will finally arrive at the Altunam Mountains. There we might be able to find help. We will first cross the Great River of Altëna, the Argolomus, and enter the realm of Anonia. There we will march to Stonia.” “Why are we not going through the Perculum Gap? It is a shorter path.” A man spoke. “For the Lexaconis Mountains are harsh and perilous, and it is said that outlaws lurk there. It is safer to go to Stonia, since it is one of the greatest realms of men.” The people were silent. Then Terilavë asked the suspicious people to tell their identities. The man who previously asked Tristica spoke first. “I am named Narther. I came from the Persevalcû Mountains, and I lived in a mountain side community. I first aimed at Flossia, the River Realm, but was lost in the grasslands, and mistakenly reached Acacia, and was held captive. This is my brother Ferther, he came with me.” Tristica nodded to the two men. Then another man started. “I am Ossirad, and I came from Ocenia, the ocean realm. I came to Acacia for trade but was mistaken by the guards and held captive.” Another man and woman spoke, and their names were Rathriad and Tacia, as they also came from Ocenia. Another woman spoke. Tristica was curious about her, because her hair was pure white, like the snow of Rúfuharn, and her jewelry greatly assembled Sivica. She spoke in a gentle and soft voice. “I came from the Rúfuharllë mountains, and my name is Silaca.” Tristica stared at her, for she looked so familiar. Her face was so similar to Sivica, but her eyes were blue, instead of grey. Tristica swallowed her desire to asked about her fate, for it looks like she did not want to reveal anymore. Others spoke. There was three men from Flossia named Falico, Felaco, and Fileco. There were also a couple from Anonia, and they were Alaie and Belagure. The last men, cloaked in dark robes with messy hair and vicious eyes, claimed himself to be Tarkas, and he was a wonderer who does not have a certain home. The discussion ended, with two of each guarding and the rest sleeping under the tree.

Here the wild journey of Tristica started. With thirteen and herself, the company set out to meet whatever, whether good or evil, marry or sorrowful, triumph or failure, that lay in the time yet to come. 

Tristica opened her eyes and saw the early sunlight pouring down on her face. She quickly stood up and turn around, and she saw Terilavë standing not far from her. She walked to him and greeted him. “It is a fine morning, and we shall march further.” Tristica said. Terilavë turned around, his silver hair waving in the morning wind and his eyes reflecting the clear sunlight and replied: “It is. We have not yet crossed the border of Lacakï. We need to pass the Gate of Lacakï and cross over the Chasm of Flame.” Tristica nodded and woke up their companions. They gathered under the tree and discussed their plans. The warmth and clearness of the morning of Acacia lightened the company’s heart. Alaie and Belagure cooked breakfast for the people, and Ossirad went off to get water. After the break, they gathered around Terilavë. “This is for you,” Terilavë handed Ossirad a trident, cladded with silver and decorated with dark-blue patterns. Ossirad seemed startled when he held the trident in his hand. “This is Cesilandes, my lost weapon when I was captured by soldiers of Acacia.” “Yes, and I pleaded the king to return it to you.” Terilavë replied. Ossirad thanked him. Terilavë then looked at Narther and Ferther, the men from Persevalcû Mountains, and gave them two pairs of axes for weapon. Rathriad got his sword, and Tacia, his wife, had her bow. Brothers of Flossia, Falico, Felaco, and Fileco, each got a bow and a pair of short blades. Alaie and Belagure, the couple from Anonia, had their long blades. Terilavë gave Tarkas two daggers and a long knife. And finally, Silaca got her sword. “Plagriath, the sword of rain and heaven-water.” Terilavë said, when he handed the blade to her. “It is a marvelous blade.” “It is a gift from my kin.” She replied quietly. Then Terilavë turned to Tirstica, “I believe the king returned your weapon?” Tristica replied, “Yes, I have my sword and blades.” In her mind, she was startled. For her sword’s appearance assembled the one of Silaca’s, and she is confused of this coincidence. But she again, swallowed her curiosity.

They marched on, fully armed, like fourteen free wanderers. The heaven was as clear as yesterday’s. The sun was still shining. It seemed that nothing really changed in this world. Their feet stepped on the grass of the Golden Savanna, their hands touched the air of Lacakï, and their eyes stared into the golden-green yonder. Like fourteen spots on the vast greenness, they marched through the long, beautiful grass of the golden tree-realm. Tristica felt the air of the surrounding growing hotter and hotter, until a huge chasm appeared in the ground. The steam appeared between the rocks, twisting and twitching the road that led forward. The air was baking hot, and the warmth of the sun grew into an unbearable heat. “Chasm of Flame!” Terilavë shouted, so loud that sounded like the heavy heat might block of his sounds. “Beware as we were crossing the Bridge of Fire, for the claws of lava and flame might grab you!” With his words bared in mind, the company carefully crossed the long and narrow bridge. It was made out of red wood, held together by golden conjunctures. The bridge seemed to be melting, as the lava below continued to heat up the surroundings. Tristica could not bear to not to look under the bridge. She did, and she saw huge pools of lava, distant in the dark. The breaking of the ground is extremely deep, and the lava was only a light in the distant darkness. But the heat was real, and the steam was still heating the air. The company walked hastily, nearly running, and reached the other side of the bridge.

The sun is climbing up, and it reached the centre of the dome of heaven. The company escaped the heat, and the coolness of the wind welcomed them. They sat under a tree, in the shade of its leaves, and rested. Tristica spoke to Terilavë. “When I was crossing the bridge, I looked into the chasm. There were iron bars and jutting out of the cliff. What are those?” she asked. Terilavë replied, “Those are part of the Flamogand, the flame prison, and often called as the Heat hell of death. During the last invasion of Acacia, soldiers from Malenon invaded Anonia and occupied the forest nearby. They then invaded Acacia, and King Serlavë ordered the war criminals to work on the cruelest project done by Acacia. They constructed hundreds of not thousands of prison cells in the Chasm of Flame. Nearly all of them had windows, crossed by iron bars, and those are the roomlike things that you saw. It is told that those windows allowed the extreme heat from the lava to come into the cells and torture the prisoners. More severely punished criminals were placed inside the cells nearer to the lava, thus tortured more. The cells were only constructed on the side of Lacakï to make sure they cannot dig a channel and escape. There were still criminals inside that prison. For if any of the fourteen of us failed during the observation session, we were likely to end up there.” Tristica’s face turned into a pale white. This prison is the cruellest thing she had ever heard, except her own experiences. The heat made her think about Aterkamos, the everlasting darkness and the damp and freezing ambience, and the moisture and stench in the air. She felt uncomfortable and sick. Terilavë, seeing that Tristca’s face turned into a pallid colour, said: “Some of the windows were blocked off by the king, because he himself reflected on this cruel did and amended some of the cells so that they have normal temperature. Please don’t be troubled.” Tristica said, “I was not troubled by the cruelty of this did, but of my own experiences. But this is not something to bother.” She then chatted with Terilavë and turned the conversation into a lighted mood.

After crossing the Chasm of Flame, they marched inside Acacia, paced slow but eager in heart. For four days they had travelled, and the clear, dry grassland air turned into a moist and damped air, and much cooler. They kept walking. There was something, not far yet not too near, moving in a uniform motion; the low humming sound filled the ears of the people. Ossirad, having great scents, claimed it to be some fast-moving source of water. They continued walking, and Tristica can feel the cold breeze upon her face. And a white ribbon, inlayed in the green coasts, appeared. It was moving, as waves splashed together, and swirls mingled with each other. A smell of fresh water and plants filled Tristica’s nose. They finally reached the side of the river. The water is fierce, and it often splash into the coast. The river was embedded into a low valley, and slope on each side was rich in trees and plants. Terilavë spoke: “River Alasia!” “Better known as River Erësa in common tougne, the mother of Randaliand.” Alaie said. “We often worship the rivers in Anonia, for they are gods from the heaven.” Narther interrupted, “Sorry for my rudeness, but please, how can we pass through this river and reach the other end?” Terilavë replied, “We will search for the Bridge of Alasia, or Erësa.” But apparently, he did not know where the bridge lied. Alaie then said: “I often hunt and wander in Argolomus and the region of the two rivers when I was a child in Anonia. This region I am very familiar with, and I will guide you.” Alaie led the company along the riverbank. For an hour or so, Tristica can see a bridge lying on the river. They quickly reached to it and crossed the river successfully. It was a wide bridge and can even support small chariots to cross. They arrived on the other side of the bank of Erësa and kept walking. Alaie spoke: “We only crossed one river; we still need to cross another one.”

After marching down the hills, they reached another river. It’s water calmer and surface smoother. Alaie led the people to find the bridge to cross the river, but it ended up in failure. “The bridge of Altëna is nowhere to find, but my memory tells me that it must had lay in this place, for I crossed it numerous times.” “It was ruined seven years ago.” A distant voice came from the river itself. There was an old woman, rolling a boat across the river. Her rags were a stained grey and her spidery limbs crooked. She said, “If you wish to cross the river, it can only be done by boats. There is no other way.” Alaie then reach out to her, and pleased her for taking them for a ride, and to everyone’s surprise, she agreed. “I thought you will not accept my request,” she said. “I have to. I was appointed by the rulers of Anonia to transport people.” The old woman replied. They then walked into the boat and crossed the river. Fourteen people could barely be fit inside the boat. The boat and orals broke the calm surface of the river, and they reached the other side.

They thanked the old woman and continued their march. But Alaia felt that something weird and evil had occupied this part of Anonia.

Tristica woke beside Terilavë. He was still in sleep, and his breathes calm and periodic. They lied on the boarder of the Great River, the realm of Anonia. Tristca wandered around the camp and saw that the river was reflecting the morning lights. She stood on the edge of the river, and the waves seemed to be forever-lasting. Waves from the back crashed into the front waves, swirling together. Terilavë woke up and walk beside her. “We should march on. We will marth through the Green Realm and seek refuge in Anorith.” The march wakened, and they started their long march.

The sun, sitting on the peak of the heaven, shines brightly. Terilavë ran to the front of the company, observing the surroundings. His eyesight was extraordinarily good. When they were marching though the short grasses of spring, Terilavë shouted, “A citadel lays on the horizon! It is Anorith!” Their pace quickened, almost running, and approached the huge, pointed structure. But when they arrived, Alaie gave a cry. “This is no Anorith! This is Hali-Nai, the military center of Anonia! It has pointed heads and tall defensive walls.” Terilavë then said in bewilderment, “It is impossible, we landed in the Northern Anonia! We have not yet crossed River Anunás!” Tristica interrupted them. “The old woman, she lied. She did not take us to the main realm of Anonia, but instead its northern provinces.” “Why so?” Alaie asked, “She has no reason to do so.” The company was bewildered, for none of them have been to the northern provinces of Anonia. They approached the citadel Hali-Nai and entered into its wooden gates. The walls were broken, and some of the roofs destroyed. Dark, burnt wooden structures lied on the ground. Tristica frowned, as a smell of burned woods entered her nose. They then walked into the main hall of the citadel, the hall of leaders. They saw only scattered papers and equipment, and a human skeleton sitting on the central chair. Alaie gave a cry as she saw the remnants of the dead. Tristica looked at the hideous surroundings. “This is no citadel. It is a coffin.” Then they quickly ran from the abandoned citadel of Hali-Nai. Alaie cried over the dead of her own country, and the company marched to cross the River Anunás.

They walked for long hours, but they had reached nowhere. For they are lost in the evergreen land, and every direction looked the same. The company was set into chaos and despair. Then, the wanderer, Tarkas, stood up. “I will lead the company. I wondered in this region when I was not captured by Acacia guards.” Although they seldomly heard this man speaking, and he was a little suspicious, they accepted his offer.

Tarkas led the group in the grasslands, and to their surprise, they arrived at the edge of a forest. Tarkas said, “When we cross this forest, we will reach the river.” Alaie said, suspiciously, “In my memory there is no such forest.” “Then you shall point another route.” Tarkas said, cooly. The company had no choice but to follow him into the forest. Despite the clear and bright afternoon sunlight, the forest was shaded into a thick darkness. The ancient trees entangled and entwined with each other, vines of old twisted around the crooked branches and twigs. Terilavë and Tristica went forth, beside Tarkas, to guard the company. Ossirad and Silaca held their weapons. Terilavë was taking out a lamp that will lighten the pass, but Tarkas forbade him to do so. “The creatures between the trees were drawn to light. We will be attacked.” Terilavë hided the lamp. They continued to walk, tiresome and frightful. Suddenly a huge snake, hissing, appeared in front of them. Tristica was surprised and drew her sword to chop of the snake’s head. But Tarkas was faster, his blade waved like a feather, so silent yet so lethal, in front of the company. Then the snake’s head dropped onto the ground, and Tarkas quickly buried it with soil. This act of valor won the trust of the company as Tarkas took them deep inside the darkness.

There was no days and nights in the dark forest. The beasts lurking around and branches twisting besides, the company was weary. Suddenly the darkness ends, and they were in a small space in the woods. It was dark, the heaven was blackened, and only stars pierce though the darkness. Tarkas said that this place is safe, and the company may rest. He will be the guard of tonight. Tristca quickly fell asleep, and the company was soaked inside the darkness.

The stars on the heaven changes, but they haven’t faded. The forest seemed still and calm, and all of the perils seemed to be over. Tristica thought that they will soon be outside of this forest, free and delightful, and they shall reach another part of the land. Only low humming of the insects could be heard. Their songs mingled with the sound of leaves and winds.

There came sounds of lots of steps and human voices, and Tristica can feel that the sound of nature faded.

She jumped forth, unleashing her sword Nigriath, and the scene in front frightened her. The forest was as if set aflame, huge torches burned around them, and the light was so bright that they blinded her eyes. Cold sweats began to drip beside her chin. She saw that Terilavë was awake, and his face twisted in hatred and fear. He stood next to Tristica, with his blade. Ossirad and Silaca was on their sides, Narther and Ferther helding their axes, Rathriad’s and Tacia’s long swords drawn. Falico, Felaco, and Fileco bows loaded with arrows. Alaie and Belagure, helding long blades, and pointed them to the surrounding men.

The torches burned silently, and the men, holding spears and knifes, pointed them toward the company. There were snakes, lurking around. The tension increases, and the air grew hotter. Suddenly, the circle of spears and knifes broke, a narrow passage showed up. A tall and savage man, wearing iron crows and golden armors, appeared. His face was marred with scars, and his snake-like eyes, vicious and wary, stared at the company. Dark was his cloths, and his raven and sullied hair waves around in the air. He ordered the guards to put down their weapons.

“Greetings, company from Acacia, I believe,” He spoke, and his cold voice rang inside Tristica’s head. For almost no reason, Tristica’s brain hurts. The voice was so cold yet so blood-thirsty, like the ones of Achemidus’s. Tristica hated. She hated this shadow in her heart, the dark fears of her own. He continued. “You were caught inside my realm, the Vicious lands. For what purposes you foreigners arrive at my gate?” “They came here because I led them.” Tristica’s blood cooled. The voice was familiar, so familiar that she just heard it hours ago. Tarkas appeared behind the tall man. “Poor humans, caught inside the vicious realm.” He said coldly, with a small laughter. “Betrayal!” Narther cried, sprinting forth, holding his axe. The guards pointed the spears at him, and he retreated in despair. “Yes, betrayal,” Tarkas stepped forward, in front of the company. “I am no wonderer. I lived in Rankagath, so do King Atekatus. Anonia is broken, Alaie, this is no longer what Northern Provinces you speak of. It is the Vicious realm! There is no Anon Forest anymore, but the Vicious Forest! Soon Eliarliand will be taken by Malenions! Power gathered in Malenon. Ten years earlier than all this, Turker was sent to Celeriand That Sprulisa was taken over by us, and soon Sprince. Two years later, Turkas to Randaliand, taking Persevalcû under his control. Soon Solarin will be ours!” He laughed hideously. Tristca could stand no longer. Her hatred of Achemidus Turker was overwhelming. Her blood boiled inside her, and she had lost the reason of all. Tears dripped of from her eyes as faces of her kin floated in front of her in the blurry image of tears. She held her sword and walk to Tarkas calmly. Then, Nigriath waves like a white light. Dark scarlet blood was spilled over the ground, and Tarkas’s head was dropped in the swamp of redness. Tristca turned to the guards, the company, and the King Atekatus. Her sword shines like a star in the dark night. “In the name of my kin, my ancestor Sinandúir, my father King Silsänaron and my brothers Silnarcus and Sinmaros, and me, Sinandria, the Last Heir of Sinardúir, evil blood shall be spilled for evil deeds tonight! Your words are nothing and your dreams impractical, the light shall once shine in Solarin! Darkness shall be banished from the Lands of the Eastern Lights!” The company was frightened, but soon they rushed beside Sinandria. Terilavë with his blade, Silaca with her sword, Ossarid with his trident, Narther and Ferther with their axes, Rathriad and Tacia with their long swords, Falico, Felaco, and Fileco with their bows, and Alaie and Belagure with their long blades. Terilavë held his lamp high, as its warm light shine through the dark. They ran toward the guards, and radiant blades pierced through the spears and shields of the guards like light of the morning. The guards, spears broken, and shields splintered, fled into the woods, as the power of the company was too great.

But still, the company was greatly outnumbered. Thirteen people could not defeat a troop of nearly a hundred soldiers. Atekarus, waving his knife, challenged the company. In the heat of the fight, arrows flung around, piercing through the eyes of the enemy. Blades from the forest, burned with hate, splintered the helmets of the guards. Ossirad, holding his trident, used it to fling the soldiers together, and chop their heads off. After the struggle of the company, only twenty enemies were left. Then Atekarus caught Terilavë. His dark blade, hoping to cut though the flesh of the Hercola. Terilavë held his place, deflecting every attack from Atekarus. He held the lamp close to his face, burning his eyes and blinding him with the light of Lacakï. But Atekarus was stronger, although Terilavë shunned his attacks quickly and swiftly, he soon go weary, and was slower. In a sudden, Atekarus’s poisonous blade chopped of his left arm, the arm that held the lamp of Lacakï. The lamp crashed on to the ground and splashed the glass and wooden structures. The light diminished and disappeared. Terilavë gave a cry to the pain of the wound and used his last strength to cut his right hand, and the blade fell onto the ground. Tristica, fighting a group of guards with Silaca, heard the scream of Terilavë and rushed there to help. But it was too late. For Terilavë, poisoned by the blade of Atekarus, was almost falling to the ground. But Atekarus, with his giant iron claw, clenching around Terilavë’s neck, and holding him from the ground. His other hand, although wounded by Terilavë, revealed his hand knife. It was sharp and blood thirsty. It gleamed like a cruel jewel. Aterkarus saw Tristica coming to save Terilavë, and he smiled viciously. He thusted his right hand, with the hand knife, into Terilavë’s neck. The pure blood of the Hercola spilled over his hands and burned it as he released the body of Terilavë, and it fell onto the ground. Terilavë was not yet dead. He stared at Tristica and smiled, brightly as ever. His smile, like the first sunlight after the winter, melted Tristica’s heart. He then shut his eyes forever. Tristica, seeing her best companion died in front of her eyes, cried and ran to Atekarus. Her bitter anger and sorrow mingled together, and she waved her sword Nigriath, and chopped of Aterkarus’s head. Then she flung herself onto the ground, next to Terilavë. She kneed in the blood swamp of the battlefield. Her tears fall down onto the dead body. She kissed the hand of Terilavë and took his blade and ring from his right hand. She then said, “Farewell, my companion of old! The world is ruthless and cruel. Your light was bright, and may it shine into my future!” And she girted her with Terilavë’s blade and wore his ring Alantä. Silaca rushed beside her. When she saw the dead face of Terilavë, she understood, and stood silently beside Tristica. The guards, seeing their king has died, flew into the dark forest. The light of another new day casted down onto the space of the forest. Blood and dead bodies were left on the sullied grass. Falico and Fileco from Flossia was dead, pierced by the spears of the guards. Rathriad and Taica of Ocenia died beside each other, and their body was chopped by the blades of the guards. Ferther, Narther’s brother from Persevalcû Mountains, was dead when fighting with a group of guards. Belagure from Anonia was killed by an enemy archer, with an eye pierced by the black arrow. And finally, the speaker, the leader, the lost general of Acacia, Terilavë the Hercola, was murdered by Atekarus.

They buried the dead in the center of the space. Alaie gathered flowers and planted on their graves, Ossriad carved on stone boards their name and their identity and place them in front of their graves. Alaie cried over her husband’s grave. Felaco was sorrow and weary because of his brothers’ death. Narther kneed beside Ferther’s grave. Tristica laid Terilavë’s blade on his body and buried it. Silaca sang a song for mourning the dead.

They left the forest, fourteen in and only six out. They walked inside the dark and exited the forest. The sorrowful company finally escaped the darkness of the Vicious Lands. In a space inside the Anon Forest, a place where the sunlight can reach, there was seven graves, blossomed with flowers and decorated by carved stones. In front the grave at the centre, most richly blossomed with golden and silver flowers, the stone was carved as such:

HERE LIES TERILAVË ALANTÄL

THE LOST GENERAL OF ACACIA

AND

THE LAST LIGHT IN THE DARK

THE LEADER OF THE COMPANY OF ACACIA

The company exited the Anon Forest with sorrow hearts. Six companions lost, and captain of their company was dead. They strolled between the treeless plain, and Tristica saw a river flowing calmly. Alaie said, “We arrived at tributary of Anunás. When we cross it, we will arrive at Stonia.” The water of the river was clear and calm, and it is shallow. The company walked across it; the coldness of the water gave Tristica thrills. Water splashed between their feet, and it shines under the bright sunlight. They quickly crossed the river and arrived at the Realm of Stone. The landscape turns into a grey mixed with white. There were only small brushes of grass, no longer the vast green grasslands of Acacia and Anonia. The trenched cloths made the company cold and weary. The walked for a while, and Silaca found a small stone cave. Tristica quickly set up fire under the rocky surfaces.

The warm orange flame burned silently. Cracking sounds from the wood could be heard. Ossirad, Felaco, and Narther went out to catch fish and wild animals, while Alaie strolled around and sang songs of sorrow to her lost husband. There was only Tristica and Silaca left in the cave.

Silaca sighed. “It is a great lost. But still inevitable. If we did not fight back, we might be all dead.” “But sorrow still,” Tristica replied. Silaca stared into the dancing flames, and it made her blue iris twinkle a little. Tristica stared at her, but Silaca spoke first. “You claimed to the Vicious King that you are the heir of the line Sinardúir.” She turned around, “But you never told anyone in the company that you are, except at that site. Why so? What happened to your realm, Sprulisa? Are your accounts true?” Tristca truned her head away from Silaca to avoid looking into her eyes. “No. I lied. I am Sinandria, the elder daughter of King Silsänaron. The King, or ruler, of Sprulisa now is named Achemidus, though his true name is Turker.” Silaca was surprised, “The one being sent to Celeriand!” “Yes. He corrupted our kingdom and murderer my father. Then he started the royal revolution that destroyed the past glories of the Ancient Sprulisa. At the battlefield, he slain my brothers and captured me. He held me as captive and prisoned me on a high platform that had been forgotten. I was there, seven years, staring at the ruin of my own realm.” Silaca’s eyes widened. “You should rule the country when your father pass away, but now it is all broken.” Tristica sighed. “Yes. And then my Aquiläustel friend, Cellaé, helped me escape the platform.” But she could not continue further. For she was still not sure about Silaca’s identity, and she could not talk about the Lost Realm of Rúfuharn. Then Tristica said to Silaca, “you said you came from the Rúfuharllë mountains. Where do you live exactly?” Silaca said. “You said that you are a friend of Cellaé, then you must know Rúfuharn, the lost realm.” Tristica nodded. Silaca continued. “The realm is not lost, the structure of Red Sand is not broken and ruined. I was born there, in Sanc-Harenai, the saint city. I lived happily with my family and my sister.” Tristica interrupted her. “Your appearance assembled a person that I met before in Rúfuharn. What is your sister’s name?” Silaca answered, “Sivica. Her name is Sivica. Do you know her?” “Yes! We are friends, and she helped me.” Silaca’s sorrow face lightened, “That is such a marry coincidence! For me, at the age of eighteen, was crossing the Bridge of Danger, the Pericutem, with Sivica. But a huge wind attacked us, and the bridge was flanged around and trembled like earthquake. The wind is so great that we can no longer go forward. I asked her to stay at where we were and stop moving, and Sivica listened to me, and agreed. We hold onto the bridge, and it swayed left and right. The sky darkened as we waited, and the light from the sun disappeared. Coldness enveloped me, and I started crying. She comforted me and said that people will come and help us. But no one came. And suddenly, a great blow of the wind shifted the bridge so great that I lose my grasp of the bridge. I fall down into the chasm in the dark. When I fall, I saw my sister, ignoring the danger, rushing to save me. But it was too late. I already fell into the abyss of darkness. She must has thought that I was dead, in fact, when I started falling, I know that I would die when I touch the ground. But I did not, because I landed on a pile of soft snow, not on a hard stone. I fell unconscious.” Silaca again stared into the fire. Her face turned dark again. Tristica hugged her, just like Sivica will do. Silaca continued. “The next day I woke up and walked around to find the way home. But I never succeed. For I walked to far and to aimless, I lost directions and could not even find the bridge and the place where I had fell. I should have remained there, for Sivica will likely lead the people of Rúfuharn to find my body and bury it. I then found a river when I was wondering, and I fished and set up fire to chase out the hunger. I wondered in the mountains for almost six years, aimlessly. I often left markings, hoping that the people will find me. But they never did. One day, on one of my trips, I exited the mountains and saw the Great Grasslands. I was amazed. This is the first time of my life that I saw such splendour. Then I wandered in the vastness and arrived at Acacia and meet the company.” Tristica then saw her sword that she had left beside her. She asked Silaca if she could see it, and Silaca agreed. Tristica unleashed the sword and stared at its hilt assembled her own sword. Then she unleashed Nigriath and placed them together. They were surprised. For the swords looked very familiar. Silaca cried, “Nigriath! The sword of Snow! How did you get it?” “Sivica gave it to me as a gift when we were marching to Sanc-Harenai.” “Then you two must be true friends indeed! This is her own sword. It is curious that she gave it away. What position is she at in Rúfuharn? Did she attend lots of meetings between a group of people?” “Yes. She is a Quinché, and she always meet with other Quinchés.”Tristica answered. Silaca the said, “That explains a lot! In Rúfuharn, Quinchés, or leaders, cannot own their own weapons. All because our religion.” Silaca said that Plagriath is the sword of Rain, and Nigriath is as Snow. If they were crossed together, they will exert huge power among the enemies. Lightnings and clouds will be called from the Edge of Heaven, as the lights from Gilämare will reach every corner of the Rings of the World.

They sat beside the fire, talking about the events and their future. Then Ossirad, Alaie, Felaco, and Narther returned, bringing fish and plants for food. They rested in the small cave, next to each other, warmed by the fire. Each shared their stories. Alaie talked about her hunts in Anonia and her visit to the Anon Forest when it was not yet sullied. “When Anonia was fighting the wolves from Malenon, I was there, as a young archer. The battle was bloody, but we claimed the victory.” Then Narther, about the adventurous people of Persevalcû Mountains. They have great friendships with Ocenia, and they sailed together to other islands. Then Felaco, about their advantures with people of Anquia, the Aqualë, water-dwellers. Then Ossirad took over, for he himself was an Aqualë. “I lived in Ocenia, and we built both inland cities and water-based ones. The God Aqul protected us.” Then he described the beauty of the Great Ocean, Gïlämare, the Ocean of Gold Lights. Silaca was moved greatly and said that she will see that great splendour before she dies.

The night veiled the sky once more, and the company slept in peace.

The next day, they gathered their equipment and left the small cave. They marched across the barren stone of Stonia. The huge line of snow mountains accompanied them on their right, and the clear morning light makes the snow on their top glitter. Light blue of the heaven made the grey, bleak rocks colourful. They walked under the sunlight, and before them, Tristica saw a small dot that looked like a city. Silaca said, “There was a city at the edge of the mountains!” Alaie answered. “I think it might be Stonänia, the capital of Stonia.” They marched quicker. The city appeared bigger. For it was a citadel made of pure, grey stones, and it had circles of walls, and it has three towers, high from the ground. It was guarded heavily.

The company arrived at its gates, and by explanations from Alaie, they entered into its grand stone halls.

They received warm welcome in Stonia. The King of Stonia, Delagure, appointed two of his bodyguards to the company to guide them in Eccidum and to achieve their purposes. “Your wills are great. For there are two men, wanting to go there, are willing to follow your lead.” The men from Stonia were Belager and Gerager. The King also gave them horses for each person, as for faster transportation.

The eight people gathered around in the Meeting Room and discussed their planes. Tristica once again, told the made-up story about her experiences, and said that she must gather forces to expel the army of Achamidus at Sprulisa. The two guards were, of course, confused, because they did not yet know the true identity of Tristica. But because of the support that her accompany gave to her, they agreed. “We will cross the Gap of Stonia and march into Eccidum. Then we shall reach the Altunam Mountains and climb the Peak Elienda. There, as I was told in ancient lore, will lead us into another abandoned realm. We will gather our forces there.” Gerager broke out, “There was no such gate! It was sealed by the Guards of Sky to make sure that evil will not escape. Do not go there, for the world will be sullied.” But Tristica told him that there was a gate, and they should pass them anyways. It will save Solarin from the influences of Malenon. Thinking about the conflicts between Stonia and Rankagath, Gerager agreed. For the evil of Malenon was always disturbing the peace of Eliarliand. Ossirad then said, “Tristica, even if the Gate was not sealed, we will never be able to get to there. The road to Altunam is perilous, and the Peak Elienda is unreachable. We can gather forces at other places, why this place?” “Because if we gather forces in Solarin, Malenon will quickly notice. Their evil scouts are everywhere. Our plans will be ruined, because their forces are truly greater. Malenon is far from Eccidum, and they are terrified by the Light and Highness of the Land of Snow. So, the Gate, already being a legend, is unknown to them. In fact, the whole Mountain Altunam they might all not know. I am certain that the Gate is there, because my brother been there once.” Silaca was surprised, but decided to remain silent. The company had agreed to go to the Mountain and the Gate, and they marched on.

Before they were on the horses, Ossirad found Tristica and said to her, “I know that the Gate is to the Dark Realm. It will likely pollute your heart and will, for your heart is already filled with hatred and venge.” Tristica replied. “Yes, but only to the enemy. I have to do this, Ossirad, because there is no other choice. I could not wander in the Rings of the World and yet do nothing when my kingdom is controlled by evil.” Ossirad then replied, “Then do so. If you have already decided, then I shall follow you. For your wisdom is profound and your wills great. It is suitable for you to be a descendent from such a great King. But always remember, do not be controlled by your own hatred!” Tristica hearkened his advice, and they sat on their horses.

They raced through the plains of stone on horseback. The wind blew, and the clouds moved; under the light of the heaven and the azure of the sky, they ran to the freedom of all. Mountains of grey passed beside them, and the splendour of stones was behind them. They quickly reached the Gap of Stonia. The mountain walls suddenly broke into a wide passage that led to Eccidum. The clouds accumulated, and stones sang. On the left was the Nigmons, the Black Mountains, and the right, the Great Mountains of Solarin, Lexaconis. Wind blew harder, and Tristica’s tunic was blown furiously. They quickly cross the Gap of Stonia, and suddenly a feel of cold air filled Tristica’s lungs. Eccidum, the Land of Snow, was cold. The air was thinner, and she felt that its harder to catch on her breath. The radiance of the sun was not warm, and the bitter of snow enveloped her. But they marched on, far into the stone of old, the snow of the ancient.

The land of Eccidum was barren and bare, free from fresh water and living flora. The levitation was extremely high, up to 150 Hilters (equivalent to about 4000 meters). Felaco, coming from low regions, was unable to breathe freely. The company was exhausted of walking under the ever-shining sun in the cold, bleak winds. They walked with Belager and Gerager, under their directions. There was no map of Eccidum because no one had ever explored it. The two men from Stonia only know the vague direction of the mountain. On the third day in Eccidum, the desperate company felt the moisture and heard the rushing sound of the water. The Company of Stonia had not been drinking since the second day they entered Eccidum. They rushed toward the feel of turbulent water, and they arrived at the Great River of Solarin, River Altëna. Alaie cried when she saw the river. She had been zealot about the river itself, due to the religion of Anonia; they worshipped the river because of its prosperity, which powered Anonia with fresh soil and crops. They drank the cold water of the river and was filled with energy. Tristica asked Belager, “For how long we still need to walk to reach Altunam?” Belager replied, “Several days will do. But the road is perilous and hard, we might take a little bit more.” The Tristica asked about the land of Eccidum. “Seldomly have I journeyed here in the early days,” Belager said, “but this recent ten years, the King asked I and Gerager to explore Eccidum, and to search a place for shelter for the people of Stonia.” Tristica was curious, and asked, “Why he asked you to do so? There is no threat the kingdom of Stonia, for it is fortified by great stone walls and powerful infantry.” “There is. I guessed it lies in the South, because the King asked for a shelter far from the south.” Then Tristica understanded. He was referring to Malenon. Stonia was surely close to that place; for if Anonia was taken, Stonia will be sieged. Belager continued, “The land of Eccidum is mountainous and barren. Plants seldomly grow, and animals, only like High Goats and Eagles live in this area. There are three rivers: Altëna, Elëssa, and Erësa. Elëssa joined Altëna when passing the Lexaconis Mountains. For the land further North, we have never reached; but we saw high mountains. So, we guess the mountains just continue on in the North.” The company listened as they talked. Alaie then said, “I know that River Altëna originated in the Altunam Mountains. If we just follow the river, then we will reach our destination.” The company agreed and marched on beside the dynamic river.

The heaven grew dark as they walked, but they continued without resting. Their path was lit by twinkling stars in the heaven; like little lighthouses were they, pointing to the direction of hope in bitter darkness. Star Elëntaï shines the brightest in Northern Skies, it outshines its neighbouring stars. The company was marching in its direction, just like chasing the Star of Hope. They walked until the East, blocked partially by the Lexconis Mountains, turned into a rose-red. Then the redness grew into a flaming orange, then into gold. The Northern blue was now lighter, slowing transforming into the colour of the Oceans. The Company rested on boulders beside the riverbank, appreciating the light of dawn breaking the dark blue canopy of the sky. Stars veiled themselves behind the blue canopy as the light shines between the mountain peaks. Tristica saw Ossirad placed his one hand on his chest, as if amazed by the beauty of the Rings of the World. Tristica sighed in happiness. For the world is not yet broken, nor is it ruined in hands of evil; the remnants of beauty still exist. She had doubted herself for unable to gather the forces and chase out evil in Sprulisa, but she now understanded that whatever is the ending of all things, the dawn will break out from Gilämare the Great Ocean and lightened the world once more.

The nineth day of the march in Eccidum ended. Silaca saw the Great Mountains in the mists. They rested and ate some food, and slept under the starlight, waiting for another day.

The Tristica woke, she was enveloped by white snow. Narther was hurrying to wake up everyone. Tristica petted her cloth to get rid of the snow. Gerager and Alaie was off, finding something to burn. Silaca came to Tristica. “It must had snowed in night. The air was clear but thick. We must march on immediately, or it might start snowing again.” Tristica nodded and talked to Belager about the snow, and Belager told her to not climb the mountains when it just snowed. Then Ossirad told her something she did not expect. “The water of Altëna had not increased in flow, although it snowed. This means that the snow is not yet melted; so, we must not climb the mountains today, eventhough we reached it.” Tristica agreed. Alaie and Gerager was back, and they brought some dried bushes of dead plants. “This is what we can have,” said Alaie, “This place doesn’t grow plants.” They burned them and warmed their bodies and extinguished the fire to hide their traces. Then they march on.

After three days of walking, on the twelfth day, they reached the foot of Altunam. Looking at the mountain, Tristica was amazed. They throw away their excess equipment, and Alaie, being inclined to the warmth of fire, brought some dry wood to be burnt. They started climbing from the foot of the mountains.

Tristica felt the coldness of the stone forest before her. The Mountain collected ancient snow and stone, which breath out cold air. They climbed with ropes tied to each’s waist. They touched the antiques of stones, they stepped on freezing glaciers, they pressed on sharp cliffs, and they stood on high platforms before the caves. Tristica can feel the tremble of Ossirad behind her; Ossirad had never seen great mountains like this before. His country was flat. Tristica yelled to his, hoping that her voices were not covered by the ruthless, cold wind of the North, “It will be fine, keep climbing! We will soon reach a place to rest.” Ossirad thanked her. They continued to ascent between the ices and stones; and they feel the blew of bleak winds and the touch of gritter snow. Finally, after climbing a sheer cliff of stone, they heard the yell of Belager, who is the front of the team. “We reached a platform!” Their pace quickened, and they quickly climbed to the platform. Tristica support her weary body by her arms but was too weak to put her leg on the platform. Silaca quickly reach over to give her a hand and pulled her up onto the platform.

There was a small cave, looking like a huge dent on the stonewall. Alaie’s dry wood proved to be useful; they quickly set up a fire and baked their cold hands. Belager and Gerager told their expaditions to Altunam, and said that there was an ancient path, made out of stairs, between the cliffs. It was made by the people who found the Underworld and constructed the Gate. The stairs were now abandoned and lost, it only survived because of the ancient lore. “There was a chasm that was closed by sheer cliffs on both sides, and after passing that, we will reach the stairs.” They listened and planed or tomorrow. Beside the gambolling flames, Tristica looked at Silaca, and they talked to each other with the singing winds outside. They talked about tehir ancestors and their origins, and their plans for their futures. Silaca said that she will reunite with her sister, and see the Ocean toegther, after all things end. Tristica was not sure about what to do, because she felt that maybe revenge is just her ultimate purpose. “Nay, Tristica, you must have plans after that,” Silaca said. Tristica replied, “Then I will choose to fly with Cellaé and visit Rúfuharn.” They both smiled.

Outside, the wind was still singing sorrowful laments of old. Its voices were echoing between walls of stones and glaciers of ancient days. Who was it lamenting? Maybe the lost travellers frozen in its merciless, white snow.

The company was on the verge between Heaven and Earth. They were still grabbing onto a thin rope that was overused. They climbed the huge glaciers and rocky cliffs for ten days, and they were all exhausted and frail. They slept on shelter-less platforms on cliffs, they rested in cold snow, and they ate only the dry meat of Stonia, brought by Belager.

On the eleventh day, Gerager claimed that they reached the chasm that he described. “Here it is, narrow and dark. But it is the only way we can reach the gate.” The company entered the narrow passage. It only allows one person crossing horizontally; so Gerager volunteered to be the first, and Belager the last. They protected the company as they always held their swords. They walked in darkness for hours, and then Tristica saw the light. The chasm of darkness finally ended, and they reached a small space between the tall stones. Tristica looked at the entrance. It was shut by heavy, think stone walls, and queer pattern were cut upon it. There lied a strange-looking sculpture, carved out of dark stones, beside the staircase’s closed entrance. It was a figure of a distorted human, holding a plate in front with two hands. Its hands protrude outwards, looking alike a beggar asking for food. Belager took out a piece of bone in his pocket and placed it on the plate. With a low humble and a sharp crack, the stone doors opened slowly. Tristica quickly realized that it was the Sacrifice of Bones in the lore of old. She read about it: that God of Nethervast, Nethados, valued human bones. In the original story, by sacrificing a member of the company and took their bones, placing it onto the plate, can open the door to the Darkness. Belager said that it was a bone from a long dead enemy that he managed to obtain. They passed through the entrance and saw the clear sky again, and they began climbing the stairs.

It was harder than climbing the cliffs. The stair was ancient, and the slope sheer; it was easy that one will slip of it and fell into the abyss nearby. Tristica walked slowly and cautiously. She refused to look at the emptiness on her right, and she held onto the stone wall on the left. Her hands were filled with sweat, and she was nervous. And suddenly, she stepped onto a pebble, and slipped. She fell over the cliff and descended into the emptiness. But Ossirad and Silaca rushed to her, for they were just in the front and back of her; and they held out their hands and grabbed Tristica. With tremendous effort, she was pulled onto the stairs again. Tristica thanked them, and wipe of her sweat.

After a day, the stairs reached to an end, leading them to huge elliptical platform. Its floor was carved into queer patterns of a three-headed beast and followed by it ghostly figures. Cracking lines decorated it. They have reached the summit of Altunam, and the highest point of Peak Eliënda. A gate, together decorated by the pattern on the ground, was before them. Two huge statues, looking like the guardians of the gate, stood on each side. They held huge spears and wore masks and terrifying helmets. On the gate there carved a huge pattern of the three-headed beast. They have reached the Gate to Nethervast. Silaca whispered into Tristica’s ears. “The pattern, it looked so alike to Rú Hárctall, the God of All in Rúfuharum.” Tristica nodded and was confused. What is the relationship between Rúfuharn and Nethervast? She will search for the answer later. For now, they have to enter the Gate.

Belager and Gerager had been here, but they never succeeded in opening the gate. “We tried every method; it just wouldn’t work.” Belager said with sorrow. Tristica then recalled a line she found when she was reading in the Library of Sprulisa when she was young. In the section of the “Forbidden Books” there was a huge book, covered with dust and ash, locked by thick iron chains and a huge lock. She was young, so she shook the book, until one of its page fall of, accompanied with a small paper, with notes on it. The book, Nahn Histalia ea i Nethavast unt Subterrlium Rexagam, The History of Nethervast and the Underground Kingdom, was the one Tristica once held. The page that had fallen off was the page about the Gate of Nethervast, with a picture of it. The note had a short phase written on it that Tristica could not understand. The yellow paper, with dark ink written the phase “Lazkad euk Kadazus, Niethavez Dunagam transkadum” (Dangeroud land of Kadazus, the Kingdom of Nethervast, let me enter). It was the Underspeach, the language of the Nethervast. But young Sinandria couldn’t understand it. But now, Tristica, remembering the phase and a line from the fallen page that reads “A certain phase must be pronounced in Underspeach to open the Gate.” She thought it might be this queer phase. So, she persuaded the men from Stonia to have a try. “Be careful! We still don’t know the power of the Gate itself.” Tristica nodded. She reached the gate, stood in front of it with some distance, and spoke the phase. Nothing happened, and Tristica was dismayed. But then, a sharp cry echoed between the stones, and the Gate started making a cracking sound. The platform trembled; the statures quivered. The company was in a tremor, shaking with the ground; and with huge sounds the two stone walls that was blocking the Gate moved slowly sideways, leaving a dark entrance unveiled. Hot wind blew from the entrance, and a smell of melted and charred stones flew out. The company was paralyzed by the Gate and Tristica. They were so surprised of Tristica and asked how she know how to open the Gate. “Actually, I guessed it, because I once found a forbidden book in the library with a note in it, having the phase written on it,” She replied. But now, a dissent occurred between the members of the company. Gerager and Belager told Tristica that they were only required to lead them to the Gate, not into the Gate, so they wish to be dismissed. Alaie and Felanco was too afraid to go into the Gate, because they hated the hotness inside and feared to be burnt alive. Narther was too weary and sick because of the climbing of the mountains, and thus refused to go. Tristica’s heart sank. There were only two members left, Silaca and Ossirad. They agreed to walk with her to whatever end. But the rest of the company said that they will not go, whatever Tristica said to them. There, Tristica was frightened. Because they have heard how to open the Gate, and Tristica’s plans; letting them go will only be a threat. So there, Tristica, standing on the platform to Nethervast, lied a curse upon Belager, Gerager, Alaie, Felaco, and Narther. Tristica let them promise that they will never spoke of Tristica, Ossirad, and Silaca, and their journey to Nethervast, and their plans. They spoke together. Then Tristica spoke. “In the name of my ancestor and the power of Sprulisa, I now curse that if, the five persons, broke their promises and leak the information of mine, will be punished by death for treachery. If they do not break the promise, they will be granted for a peaceful and happy life.” The five persons thanked Tristica for her generosity to let them go. Before they leave, Tristica asked Gerager for more bones for further usage. Gerage gave her all that he had. They insist to watch the three enter the entrance. They parted and waved good-bye. The three wanderers, with nervous but excited hearts, moved on into the Gate. The entrance was wide, and the air inside it was hot. They heard boiling sounds in the darkness. Then the light from the door weakened, and with a giant sound of a crack, the huge door closed behind them. “There is no returning back.” Silaca said with a heavy heart. They continued to walk. Finally, they saw a light in the front, warm and hot. They quickened their pace and reached the end of the dark entrance. There was a small platform, protruding outwards on the cliff. They were inside the mountain. There was a huge stone hall inside the mountain, tall and wide. Under them was boiling lava, swirling and crashing into each other; on top of them, was the dome of the hall, carved with patterns of the three-headed beast. In front was a huge stone sculpture, a human-like beast with fangs and claws, clenching a huge sceptre and a blade. It was carved out of course stone, and beside it was the two guardians, each holding a huge spear. There was a circle of carved stone sculptures, holding plates outwards. A narrow bridge connected to a centre platform, levitated from the lava underneath. Twelve narrow bridges connected the centre platform to each of the prayer sculptures. Ossirad was amazed and frightened, and he said, “The mountain is not dead, it is boiling inside!” They could hear a faint, periodic sound from the rocks. Tristica saw that there was a huge lump of lava inclined on the stone cliff that had been pumping, like the heart of a living creature. She cried, “The mountain is alive! Look at the lava, it is the heart of the mountain!” Silaca and Ossirad was amazed and terrified by the queer and eerie scene of the Gate.

Tristica was sitting on the platform, and Silaca beside her. Ossirad was walking from side to side. They were stuck. They did not know how to enter into Nethervast, because all they can see is the boiling lava. “There is no gate, why so?” Tristica said, with a slight dismay. But Silaca stood up and started walking to the centre platform on the lava. Tristica stood up with her and saw her examining the twelve bridges. “The twelve bridges each connects to a prayer, like the one we encountered at the Entrance to the Staircase! I think that if we place human bones onto the plates, we will open the Gate, or at least do something.” Tristica and Ossirad agreed, and they quickly walked to the centre platform. Tristica gave Silaca and Ossirad the bones from Gerager, and they quickly reached to each platform and placed the bone onto the plate. After the effort, there was no movement. Then Ossirad, the last to come back, discovered that they only have eleven pieces of bones. “We need twelve, but we only have eleven,” he said. Silaca cried, “But there is no way we can find additional bones! There are no dead bodies in this cave.” “No, there are not. But we have alive people,” Tristica answered. Silaca and Ossirad trembled. A coldness enveloped them, and Ossirad spoke, shakily, “you don’t mean to…?” “Yes, I meant to,” Tristica said as she unleashed her dagger. “But there are other options, Tristica!” Silaca yelled. “No there are not. It is all my idea and plan to be in Nethervast. I shall stand its consequences,” Tristica said calmly. Then she pushed the blade of her dagger deep into her hand and chopped of a finger from her left hand. She gave a cry of pain, and Ossirad and Silaca quickly rush over her. Silaca ripped of a piece of her tunic and covered Tristica’s bleeding hand. Tristica handed the finger, covered in blood, to Ossirad. “Get rid of the meat and skin on it and place it onto the last platform.” Ossirad nodded, and quickly rushed to the bridge to the twelfth prayer. Silaca poured out some water from her bottle to wash of the blood and enveloped her wound with cloth. They both stand up. They saw Ossirad, small in the distance but filled with power, standing on the bridge beside the last prayer. Ossirad yell to them, “I am going to place the bone onto the plate now! For whatever will happen, stand where you are and do not move! I will get to you as quickly as I can!” They listened, and watched Ossirad, placing the bone onto the plate. He quickly rushed back to the centre platform.

They heard the stones tremble and the lava splash. The mountain quavered like a rickety building, and the lava below them boiled and bubbled furiously. They clenched together. Then, the huge sculpture holding the sceptre moved its arms and help up. The two guardians opened the cross that they made by their spears. The prayers held the plate up high and cast the bones into the lava. “The Gate to Nethervast had been opened,” Tristica said, trembling. “Yes.” Ossirad and Silaca answered.

The three wanderers clenched onto each other. Lava was poured from sides of the stone cliffs, and splashes of hotness attached them. The centre platform started moving slowly. It descended down, as if approaching the boiling lava. Tristica could feel the hotness, and she closed her eyes, as if welcoming her death in the heat. Under them, the lava opened and was pushed away from the platform. The surface of the lava broke, and a dark tunnel was opened under them. Silaca watched in marvel, and hold Tristica’s wounded hand, as if comforting her. Ossirad placed his tunic, as cold as the water of Altëna, over them. They saw the lava falling beside them, and they can feel that the opening had been closed on them. The continued to descend down into the darkness beside the glowing lava cascade.

Tristica woke up and saw Silaca and Ossirad beside her. They were talking. They saw that Tristica had awakened, and quickly gave her some water and the last bit of dry meat. Silaca said as Tristica ate the food. “I have examined our surroundings, that Nethervast is likely located right below the mountain underground, deep into the crust of the Rings of the World. We are now descending down in a narrow tunnel made only for the size of the platform. The two cascades of lava beside us now are implanted inside the walls of the tunnel, and they are not as hot as the ones under the platform.” Ossirad then said, “When we finished descending, we will probably reach Nethervast, although I have no idea what it will look like.” Tristica then said, “It will be dark, I think, for it is so low underneath the world.”

After two days on the platform, they can feel the platform slowly stopped moving. Tristica saw that the platform was now placed on a pool of lava. They have reached Nethervast.

There was a long bridge connecting the platform to the side of the lava pool. The lava was now calm, not as the boiling hot stew in the Hall of Nethervast. The three wanderers were already too frail and weak to stand up. They lied there, trying to recover their strength. But they had been in a hot tunnel for almost two days, with only a little bit of water and food. The Ossirad heard a shout from the darkness. It was an excited call, and two guards, cloaked in dark tunic and black, iron armours rushed to the platform and quickly crossed the bridge. They reach the platform and talk in a language that they could not understand. But from their tone, they could sense that they were joyful and excited. “They are speaking Underspeach. I cannot understand.” Tristica said weakly. The guards kept talking, and one of them handed three bits of bread-like food to each of them. They thanked them and ate them quickly. Like magic, their strength was restored, and the two guards pointed to the bridge. They quickly crossed the bridge and walked on the ground of Nethervast. Distant flames burnt and smoke arises. The surroundings was in thick darkness, only lightened by the faint, orange light from the guards’ lanterns.

They arrived at a rived of lava. It glows in an orange-red colour, lightening the surrounding, but still unable to pierce the darkness beyond. One of the guards pull on a chain and a huge raft, made from iron and stone, appeared. They stood on it, and the guards used the orals to break the thick lava river. They crossed the river, and Tristica saw seven huge, black stone pillars ascending into the darkness. Then they reached a wall, and a small lava river surrounding it. The guards on the wall saw them and lowered the bridge and opened the gate. The entered it, and crossed several more bridges over more lava rivers, until they arrived at a huge open space. They were now inside a heavily guarded citadel. Inside the citadel, there were houses and huts, stores and shops, and even beasts that the three from Solarin had never seen before. People stopped working when they pass by, staring them in amazement and surprise. They smiled warmly to the three wanderers.

The two guards led them to a stone hall, built on a small hill in the huge citadel. It was gigantic a delicately made, with intricate carvings and stone pillars. Strangely, the building made Tirstica think about Sanc-harenai in Rúfuharn. The two guards opened the door of the building, and they were in a great hall. At the end sat a throne with a King. He quickly stood up when he saw them and rushed from his seat. He is yelling something that they could not understand. Then quickly, a young man with dark hair and eyes appeared. He was cloaked in black, and the sleeves of his dress was decorated with golden threads. He walked quickly, like running to the three people. “You have found us! I believe you came from the Solcetriand, the Upper Land, the Land that Sun Shines, the Land of Mortals, the First World, the Land under the Heaven, right?” Ossirad replied with kindness, “Yes, although I do not know that it has this many names.” He smiled at the man in black. “It…it is such a pleasure! I long thought that we were forgotten. My name is Kalevac, and I am the only person who can still speak your language in Nethervast.” He then reached out to the King and spoke to him. The King was smiling, and they spoke together for some time. Then Kalevac returned to them and asked them to follow him. He led the three people to the Meeting Room and talked to them. “The King said that he is both delighted and troubled. He is afraid that people in Solcetriand might know about the entrance to Nethervast.” Tristica then spoke, “There is no need to be troubled. Although we journeyed together in a company of eight, but the five members who did not come already promised that they will not leak the information about Nethervast.” Then she talked about her curse on the five members of the company. Kalevac was relieved. Then, Silaca told him about the story of the Company of Acacia and the adventures, battles, and losses of their journey. Kalevac was amazed by them and asked for their intention of using such an effort in searching and entering Nethervast. “In the brainds of the people of Solceriand, the name of Nethervast is either lost, that is, never heard of, or the name of the Thrid World that was perilous and ill-famed. For what brought you here?” Then Tristica, unlike other times, told Kalevac about the story of the Fall of Sprulisa. “I wish to gain the control of my country once more.” Tristica remarked. Kalevac appreciated her bravery and determinacy, and he said, “For I don’t know how we can help you in Nethervast, because we are already disconnected. We live in legends.” “I persuade the King to help me.” Tristica said.

Their discussion ended thus, and Kalevac gave each of them a room to rest, connected by a middle hall with sofas and tables. They rested in the citadel of Netherith for a long time. During this time, Tristica tried to persuade the King to help them, but the King refused, for that he is afraid that it might expose Nethervast.

Tristica woke up in the middle of the night, or sleep hours. There was no days and nights in the Nethervast. She was wakened from her nightmare. She dreamed a huge, three-headed beast attacking Netherith and ruining the citadel. People screaming and yelling as they escape its tremendous power. She stared into her empty room and pondered about the dream. She then sits up and went off the bed. Tristica strolled in the living room and discovered that Silaca was also awake. She saw Tristica staring into the window and observing the quiet city of Netherith. “I had a dream, that a three-headed beast broke the wall of Netherith and ruined it,” Tristica began. “The one that was carved on the Gate?” Silaca said, reassembling the huge pattern on the Gate of Nethervast. Tristica said, “Yes. With one dragon head and one snake head on each side, and a head that looked like a combination of tiger, shark, and bull. It looked so abominable.” Silaca fell silent, and they sat on the sofa without a word.

It surprised Ossirad when he saw two persons sitting on each end of the sofa without speaking a word. “For how long have you been awake? And why is this silence all mean?” Tristica looked at him and said, “We got a bad feeling about the future. There might be some threat to Netherith and our plan.”

The three people walked to the Hall of Netherith, the Nagalteath, and talked to Kalevac. “I have brought you bad news. There was a beast lerking in the darkness of Nethervast. It was powerful and terrifying, and its name is Kha Kazachec. It dwelled in the dark, and seldomly disturb the living of our people. But last night, one of the cities of Nethervast, Nalinath, was destroyed by the beast. The King sent out troops but was unsuccessful in defeating it. He is now thinking about a solution, and it is urgent.” Kalevac said, greatly troubled. Tristica then thought about her dream, and asked, “does that beast have three heads?” Kalevac said, “I do not know, but some rumour said that it has. Also, that beast lived only in ancient lore, and everyone knows its tremendous power. The King is afraid.” Tristica then felt herself cooling inside. “The King said that the beast has a jewel on each head of the beast. If one could bring him those three jewels, then he will offer everything that that person asked for.” Tristica thanked Kalevac, and the three persons went to the Meeting Room. Silaca spoke first. “Tristica, do not dream about defeating that beast! For if it is the three-headed beast, we will all be dead.” “But we have to try, it is the only way to not only to save Netherith, but also to get help from the King.” Then Silaca was anxious, “But, it is so powerful that we could not defeat it without an army! The King will not give us his force because he had already failed.” Tristica then said, “Yes, then we slay it on our own.” Ossirad stared at them and spoke nothing. He was thinking that both of them were right, for Silaca that the beast was too powerful, and for Tristica that there is no way to push onto the plans. “We cannot linger here, we must defeat Achemidus. We need to save Solarin from those dark forces,” Tristica said calmly. Silaca, seeing that Tristica is right, agreed reluctantly. Ossirad finally spoke. “It is the only way, and I will follow your lead. But the beast is controlling the dark fears in our hearts, so beware, never be controlled by that darkness.” They all equipped them with the armours that they brought from Solarin and borrowed a lamp from the guards. The three wanderers stepped out of the Gate of Netherith in secret, but their shining armours and weapons were like lighthouses in the darkness, radiating too bright that Kalevac saw them when he was writing by his window. Where are they going? He thought, better not to be trying to save the day.

Ossirad first saw the beast Kha Kazachec at the ruined city of Nalinath. It was stepping on the remnants of the walls of the citadel and ripping the huge stones apart. They were frightened by the scene. It was as tall as five persons stack together, and its huge arms and legs were immense and thick. It had giant claws like a lion, and body like a dragon, its tail was full of frightening spikes. Silaca stared at its heads. It had three heads upon three long, spikey necks, protruding outwards. And between each head’s eyes, there lied a shining jewel. Ossirad whispered at Tristica, “What’s the plan?” Tristica replied, “Each of us aim a head, and attacked it. So, the other heads will be unable to help.” They agreed and held their weapons.

They rushed at the beast simultaneously. Their shining armours pierces the darkness into a million pieces, and their weapons radiated beams of white light into the beast’s eyes. They charged to it, Ossirad on the left, Tristica on the right, and Silaca in the middle. They were the stars in the darkness, challenging the true darkness in front of them. Ossirad attacked from the left, holding his trident, and jumped to the stone wall next to the snake head. He inclined to the stone wall and shunned several attacks from the head. The snake opened its huge, bloody mouth when it rushed to Ossirad each time trying to bite him and rip his body. But Ossirad was brisk and adept, he easily avoided getting hit. Each time the head bumped on the rocky cliff, it left a crater on the wall, and smashing sone stones into pieces. Then he switched to attack. He first threw a stone at the head to bump it and confuse it, but to his surprise, he saw the snake protruding his long togue. The instant the stone touched its black togue, it was broken into innumerable pieces. The snake’s togue can crush whatever that it touches, Ossirad thought, and he quickly climbed to a higher point on the cliff, and like flying, escaped a few attacked from the snake. Then he, pulling out one of his daggers, threw it at the snake. Its light was too bright that it sliced the dark veil like a meteoroid. The snake was distracted, and Ossirad catched the opportunity of attack, and hopped onto its neck. The snake hissed and shook as Ossirad was balancing. Ossirad used a dagger to cut some spikes off its neck, avoiding harming himself. The snake was infuriated, and it shook more violently. Ossirad nearly fall off, but he grabbed two spikes and stabilized himself. Then, the snake, seeing that Ossirad could not be shook off from its neck, it flung its huge togue on the back, and the black whip-like togue flew at Ossirad. At the instant when the togue touched him, he pulled out another dagger, and sliced the snake’s togue. Its light pierced though the black flesh, and it blinded the snake’s eyes. The dagger quickly broke into pieces and the light died out. The snake hissed grossly as the light burnt it. Ossirad then unleashed his trident, and held it up, beside his face. Then he pushed its blades deep inside the neck of the beast. The snake hissed and growled viciously, and its huge mouth, implanted with yellow, sharp fangs, belched up some black blood, and the dark liquid splashed out accompanied by stench. Ossirad used his trident to get the jewel from the head. He held it up, and it was the Jewel of Stone.

On the other side from Ossirad stood Tristica, holding her sword Nigriath. The dragon head was fire, and each time it released terrifying flames from its jaws. The boiling lava and burning flames attacked Tristica each time, and she could only run from it. The lava was too powerful to stand against, so Tristica tried to escape from it every time. The flames burnt her tunic, but the armour from Solarin protected her limbs to be charred into ashes. The head then forced her to the edge of a nearby cliff. Tristica nearly fall off into the abyss. She was forced to attack. Tristica then spang forth and threw one of her blades at the face of the dragon. But it looked at it and released the flames. The blade melted and turned into ashes. Tristica saw that the dragon was distracted by the blade, so she rushed forward and sliced the face of the dragon. It was angered, and it opened its huge mouth to crush Tristica. She quickly slid to the side, and the jaws clenched together. But her cloth was between its teeth, and it flung her, with her cloth, onto the ground. Tristica lied there and saw one of the beast’s tremendous claws approaching her. She got up in a flash and pulled out another blade from her back. She held it with her right hand, and her left hand she held Nigriath. She jumped to the head, and with the sword of snow in her left hand, she again slices and marred the dragon’s face. And its right hand threw the blade right into the dragon’s eye. Blood sprayed out of the dragon’s wounded eye, and it growled in pain. Then Tristica, landing steadily on the ground, slid under its head. She pulled out Nigriath and stabbed the bright blade into the dragon’s dark flesh. The sword’s blade was inside the dragon’s lower jaw, and it penetrated its mouth. All of the blade was swallowed into the flesh to the hilt. The light pierced through the head. Tristica pulled out her sword, which was stained by black blood and sullied by its viciousness, and she quickly reached to the head, and tried to dig out the jewel from its forehead. But she failed, because the dragon used its last strength to fling Tristica aside. She was smashed to the ground, and her sword Nirgiath flying in the darkness. Its blade was stuck inside the stones of the ground, beside Silaca. Ossirad, already defeated the snake, came to help, and dug out the Jewel of Flame. He reached out to Tristica, but the dragon head, lied its huge head on Ossirad and Tristica, making them unable to move.

Silaca was terrified. The middle head approached her. Its huge fangs, clinging at her face, and its claws stepping on the ground, shaking it when it touched. Silaca looked into the eyes of the beast. The God of all was before her. The God of all powers, the God of all goodness and badness, the God that controlled the world. She was controlled by her fear and the power of religion. She was unable to hold Plagriath, and the sword fell from her hand. It landed on the ground. The head approached her, and their distance shrinked. The claw on Ossirad and Tristica was removed, but they were too weary to help Silaca. Tristica already broke several of her bones when being smashed onto the ground, and Ossirad’s two legs, being stepped by the claw, was also broken. The two swords of the heaven were on the ground, beside Silaca. Their light faded when the head approached Silaca. It moved slowly, and Silaca could see its hideous face. Its vicious eyes, staring into the ones of Silaca’s, giving her thrills and sank into the darkness of fear. The God, the God was in front of her, and yet she could not move. How could she slay the God of all? How could she betray her own belief and religion? She was in the swirl of fear. Then she forced herself to turn her eyes away from the face, and she saw her companions laying on the ground. Blood oozed out of Tristica’s wounds, and Ossirad was using his last strength to stop the blood. Then she thought of the ruined city of Nalinath, the people burnt alive and ripped apart by the heads of the beast. The God that should be protecting Rúfuharn, protecting the Rings of the World, was in the darkness, killing and murdering people of innocence, and ruining cities of old. She realized that her believes were irrational and false, that the main god, being murderous and vicious, was the goodness that she once believed in. Her fear turned into anger, and she stood up from the ground. She picked up Plagriath and pulled out Nigriath from the ground. She held the two Swords of Light. The head was terrified a little, and it shunned the light. But Silaca, holding the two swords high, crossed them together. The point where the blades crossed burst out huge beams of white light, rings and halos from the heaven was assembled. The light was so great that the eyes of the head was blinded. Silaca’s arms, like enduring tremendous weight, continued to support the hot radiance. Light splashed out like a cascade, and the light from Gilämare, silver and golden, lightened the thick darkness of Nethervast. A new star arises from the two blades. The light pierced every corner of the darkness and crashed the darkness. The beast shunned the light and wishing to escape. Silaca discovered its intention, put those two swords down. The light died out a little, but the two blades still glowed furiously. Silaca rushed to the head, and she jumped high from the ground, swinging the two swords up, and crashed the blades into the neck of the beast. The power of the swords was too great to endure, that the head of the beast exploded, splashing flesh, bones, and blood everywhere. The light, unsullied and pure, then pierced the body of the beast into pieces. It quickly decayed and disappeared. Silaca walked to the place were the last jewel lied. The Jewel of Darkness. It looked like a piece of Obsidian. She then, holding the two swords, ran to the place where Ossirad and Tristica lied. Silaca slowly opened her palm, and when Ossirad and Tristica saw the last jewel, they both smiled. “Mission accomplished,” Tristica said with a coarse voice, and she coughed. She saw blood on her palm. Silaca was worried, and she gave her water. But Ossirad and Tristica were too weary and broken to get up, and they lied together. “Maybe our plan failed, but at least we did something great for Nethervast,” Ossirad said. They all nodded and lied next to each other.

When the darkness again surrounded the place, a troop of army from Netherith approached them. Kalevac, leading the men, saw the three persons lying on the ground, greatly wounded. He quickly asked the men to carefully place them on the chariot. Ossirad cried in pain as the men tried to pull him on the chariot. But they all safely return to Netherith.

Tristica woke in her room in the citadel of Netherith. She saw Silaca standing beside her bed. Silaca spoke, “Your burnt skin had been treated with medicine from the Nethervast, and it is almost cured. I think people will probably get burnt easily in this place, so they have the right treatment.” Tristcia and Silaca both smiled. Then Tristica was troubled again. “How is Ossirad? Are his legs cured?” “Yes. His strength was reviving, but he probably needs to rest a little more to walk.”

A week later, the three wanderers, fully cured from their wounds, sat on the sofa. Each held out one Jewel, and they smiled at each other. “We finally have done it. We can now request what we want.” They smiled and were delighted. Later, Tristica approached the King, and gave him the three jewels. The King was so amazed by the powers of the three, he gave the army to Tristica, and made her the lieutenant of the Army of Nethervast. And also, for a gift, he gave the three persons each a piece of fine obsidian in return.

All seemed well, and the three wanderers, after resting for a while, began the final step of their plan. Tristica said, “We will train and practice, and exit Nethervast, and then challenge Achemidus and bring light back to Sprulisa and Solarin.”

The three wanderers, after slaying the Kha Kazachec, worked in Netherith for one year. Tristica trained the army, Silaca and Ossirad helped her. Tristica was always busy in the preparation of the great war that she barely rested. Silaca was troubled by this, for she is afraid that Tristica dwelled in the darkness for too long. She reached out to Tristica when a year of the slaying had passed. “Tristica, I know you are eager to revenge on Achemidus, but you should have some rest,” Silaca said, worryingly. Tristica said, “There is no need to rest now, all we have to do is to prepare and train.” Silaca continued to persuade her, and said, “I am afraid that your hatred has forced you to live in the dark for too long, it might corrupt you.” Tristica said nothing.

Tristica was already too devoted into the armies’ military training. She fostered the forces with her own venge and hatred that she had for the Malenions, but she also told the soldiers that the spread of the dark forces in Solarin. She built a huge, defended space, surrounded by thick, dark walls, for the training of the army. It was named as Kaperza, the place of force. A huge, dark tower named the Insevat was built in its centre, jutting out of the flat ground beside it. It was decorated by the black iron from the Nethervast, and obsidian from the ground. It has four huge pillars surrounding it, each lighted by flames at the top. It had gold ore carved inside the walls of the tower, shining in the dark. She talked to the soldiers of Nethervast in Kaperza, standing on the platform of Insevat. During that time, she learned Underspeach, so she could communicate with the soldiers. Huge mines were opened for digging up more dark iron and obsidian from the ground of Nethervast. New weapons were forged in the huge fires and lava. Black iron spearheads and swords, decorated by thin golden patterns and pieces of obsidian were made; broad shields of metal and stone were crafted. Helmets, having two jutting horn-like decorations were created, accompanied by new breastplates and armours. She also assigned archers, and they used the heavy and thick bows made from Hapez, the only wood in Nethervast. Riders on Repalads, a kind of four-legged beast living in Nethervast, were also trained. Repalads looked like horses but were stronger and taller; and they have dragon-like horns on their heads. Tristica gathered infantry, archers, and riders. Finally, she went on to find Kelavac. She asked him about the Kafelads, the flying beasts. Kelavac and Tristica went into the dark to find them, and they brought back fifteen trained Kafelads. Those beasts had two legs for walking and two smaller arm-like limbs to climb the cliffs. They had huge bat wings and dragon’s heads. But they are mild and easy to control. After the beasts arrived at Kaperza, Tristica assigned thirteen elite Nethervast soldiers to ride them.

When the forces were all gathered and equipment made, they began training. The archers trained by shooting arrows at moving objects, like thrown stones; the infantry practiced sword fighting; the riders practiced archery and spears on Repalads; and the airforced practiced fighting on the Kafelads. Tristica taught the soldiers the use of swords and shields and let them practice, and she also told them strategies to win a fight.

Tristica secretly forged armours of black iron and obsidian in Insevat. She made armours for her legs and arms, and she made a breastplate with a marking of the old sign of Sprulisa, two trees entangled together under a huge ship, with silver and gold. She also made a crown that covered her cheeks and protrude out of her head. It had five spikes, and the middle and largest one had the obsidian from the King placed in it. The jewel gave out a cold light, and it had the talent of making the one who wears it taller and stronger. She also forges a huge sword Darkamessekith, the force from the Dark, and a long spear, Kalaperzarith. They were both decorated by golden patterns and obsidian, and their blades so thick that they can crush every mortal sword and splinter every broad shield. Tristica cloaked her inside this armour, and it seemed that her raven hair grew darker, and her eyes grew deeper. She became cold toward others except Ossirad and Silaca. She became more vindictive. The hatred of the old had slowly grasped her and controlling her. Tristica’s mind was filled only with the will of destroying Achemidus and the Melanoians. Silaca often warned her, but she could no longer control the rage.

While the forces trained days and nights, Tristica asked Ossirad and Silaca to meet her at the Gates of Kaperza. She led them into the Gates, and they climbed Insevat. They sat around a circular table and discussed their final plans, with the map of Solarin in front of them. Tristica began, “I am thinking that we divide the forces into two, one attacking from the sky, the airforces of Kafelads, and the other by ground. Therefore, we will be able to destroy the three platforms. The forces on the ground will break through the walls of Achemidus’s defence, and we will fight the Malenions in Sprulisa.” Ossirad listened and said, “We should break the forces further,” Then he lied his finger at the region marked as “Sprulisa”, and speak again, “We will let our main ground force, that is, the riders, archers, and the infantry, attack from the Khamkus fields and passing though the Gap of Khamkus, but another minor force will attack by crossing the Quinfonda Forest, by the direction of Nimirith Sindáriun. Since the main forces of Achemidus lied in the East of Sprulisa, we will be able to besiege them.” Tristica and Silaca both agreed. Then Silaca said, “There must be forces inside Sprulisa that can help us. We shall send a small group of people from Nethervast, clocked in black and covered by the darkness of night, and enter the prison of Sprulisa secretly. They will release the Royal Guards of the old and lead them to assist us.” “But we will be exposed if they are discovered by the guards of Achemidus. And also, long time had passed since the Royal Revolution; I am afraid that they might have already left the Rings of the World,” Tristica said, greatly troubled. She thought about the human sacrifice on the Days of Revolution, and it still made her bones shake. Silaca saw that Tristica was troubled, so she said, “There will be forces of the dissipated Kingdom of Old, there will be Royal Guards of Sprulisa, waiting for the day to come. Only if we go and help them to escape the darkness.” Ossirad added, “Also, trust the soldiers of Nethervast, they are quiet in walking and swift in movements. Their adaptation of the darkness is also an advantage.” Tristica agreed Silaca’s proposal. Then Silaca asked, “Are there any remnant forces lingering in Sprulisa that had not been destroyed by Achemidus?” Tristica shook her head. She believed that all fleet, armies, and power of the Old Sprulisa are ruined in the fire of the Malenions. But Ossirad spoke, “There is, there is a clandestine port, hidden between the peaks of the mountains near the Quinfonda Forest. After the Revolution, I once travelled in the forest, and I was captured by people from Sprulisa. I thought they were the Guards of Turker, but it turned out that they were an underground organization called the Celláions, and they built the secret port, called the Port of Heavens, and some fleets were kept in that place.” Tristica’s eyes widened. “That is unbelievable! I thought all forces were broken.” They added the Port of Heavens and Celláions to the list. Finally, they have the main forces attacking from the Gate of Khamkus, and the minor force by the Forest; the air force to destroy the platforms, and the secret group of Nethervast soldiers to reach out to the Prison of Sprulisa, releasing the Royal Guards, and then going to the Port of Heavens. Ossirad asked for leading the group of soldiers into Sprulisa, and Silaca leading the minor force. Tristica leading the major force and the air force. But when all seemed settled, Silaca asked Tristica, “Are you sure that Achemidus’s force will not be greater than yours? What if he had more armies?” Tristica smiled and led them to climb more stairs of Insevat. They reached the topmost platform, and Ossirad and Silaca saw the armies surrounding them. There were ten thousand infantry and several thousand riders. The fifteen Kafelads inclined to the stone cliffs. Ossirad said, “It is surprising how many men you gathered, but I am afraid that Achemidus will have more men.” Tristica replied, “We will have assistance in Sprulisa. Our attack will surprise them, and we will swiftly beat them.”

On the day when the forces were almost all prepared, Tristica announced on the platform of Insevat in Underspeach. “For days and nights have we been training, and soon will the day of Light come. For I am Sinandria the Last heir of Sinandúir, I am Tristica the ranger and wanderer of the West, and now, I am Mairperkaz the Dark, the Leader of the Forces of Nethervast! The Malenions have been corrupting the Realm of Light, and their viciousness and poisons sullied the clean Earth of Solarion for too long. Tomorrow we march through the Secret Gate, the Gate of Lava, and we will be again in Solarin, and our power shall destroy the ones that dwell in Sprulisa! Too long have I been lingering in this world, and too long have you been wandering in the dark. The power unseen will be revealed, and the light clouded shall shine one more time on the dying land of Solarin! The people of Nethervast, you have been dwelling in the darkness for too long, living in the fear for too long, and drinking the hatred from the rest of the world for too long! It is time to embrace the light from Gilämare and chase out the Darkness! March to the light!”

The Armies of Nethervast marched through the Secret Gate. It was a hidden Gate that was meant to let the people leave Nethervast but had been long abandoned. They first moved the gigantic boulders that blocked off the passage and opened it, and they climbed the stairs of dark in the cavern. After days of climbing, the arrived at the ground level. Lava sealed the opening of the gate that led to Solarin, forming a long lava river. Mairperkaz built a bridge from the materials transported from Nethervast. Days they spent on the construction of the bridge, surrounded by hot lava. They safely arrived at the other side after the bridge was built and quickly destroyed. The river protected Nethervast because only materials from Nethervast can endure the hotness of the lava.

Mairperkaz, with Ossirad and Silaca on her sides, saw the land of Solarin after years in the darkness. It was the dusk, and Mairperkaz saw the sun slowly climbing down, and got covered by the Lexaconis Mountains. “We are here at last,” She sighed.

The armies of Nethervast marched through the Earth of Eccidum. They only walk in the darkness to avoid being discovered and rested in the days. They passed through the Gap of Felalaë and entered Solarin. They crossed River Legilard and walked to the feet of Mountain Nigamons. There, when they passed into the near boarder of Sprulisa, Ossirad with additional twelve Nethervast scouts marched on, crossing the mountains. Before he left, he reached out to Mairperkaz. “Tristica, is there something that shows your identity to the Old People of Sprulisa?” Ossirad asked. Mairperkaz said while reaching to the back of her neck, “There is, the Jewel of Sinadúir, the Sinarli, placed on the silver necklace that I always wear,” she handed the necklace to Ossirad and continued, “I believe the head of the Royal Guard will recognize this.” Ossirad thanked her. Silaca warned Ossirad, “You only have a maximum of three days to find the forces. When you are done, sent out a ship at the direction of the camp.” Ossirad nodded, and he left the campsite of the armies at night. Silaca and Mairperkaz stood beside each other and stared at the back of Ossirad. “I hope they found them. Ossirad himself know that the possibility of having armies of the old is small, but his hope is that the Celláions will help us. I do not doubt his plans, but I doubt that the Cellánions might refuse to help us.” Mairperkaz looked into Silaca’s eyes, and said cheerfully, “They will.” And she stared into the darkness.

Ossirad and the twelve Nethervast men were cloaked in black. Their raven garments covered their signs in the darkness of the night. Kalav, the assistant of Ossirad in the scout, marched beside him. Ossirad resembled his fragmented memories and led the scouts to the direction of Aterkamos. It was beside the Chep Mons and Town Arsior. They quickly found its gates, carved in the mountainside, decorated with the ancient patterns of Sprulisa. They used daggers to slay the guards, and they quickly sneak into the dark channels. There Ossirad was lost. He had never been in the prison, and the channels were entwined and formed a labyrinthine underground network. Here, Kalav, by brisk movements, captured a guard. Ossirad threatened the guard to lead them to the deepest cell, where Ossirad believed to hold the Royal Guards. The guard was too weak and frightened, and he wanted to live, so he led the scouts to the deepest cell in Aterkamos. They quickly arrived and saw iron bars appear in front of them. Iron chains dangled down the celling, and flickering torches lighted up the dim room. It was a huge circular space, decorated by some patterns. Iron gates surrounded the room. Kalav saw that they had arrived, so he sliced the guard’s throat by his sword and kicked his body to the side of the room. Other two guards, supposed to be guarding the deepest floor, awakened and reached out to their weapons, but were easily killed by the scouts of Nethervast. Ossirad quickly walked to a cell and saw a woman who lied wearily on the bed in the cell. Her silver hair was stained by the dirt of the cell, and her skin were sullied by the stench of the room. Ossirad whispered at her, tried to wake her up peacefully, but she jumped out of the bed and stared at Ossirad, both surprised and frightened. She spoke with a coarse sound, “What is your purpose, guard of the prison? Have not we suffered most?” Ossirad could saw her eyes filled with rage, and he stepped back. “I and my company are no guards of the prison, nor supporters of Achemidus Turker. We came from a place that you will not believe, and our tales so wild that you will doubt its authenticity. Long tales short, we are here to find the members of the Royal Guard of Sprulisa, because a war that could overthrow Turker is approaching.” The woman’s eyes widened, and her voice trembled, “If you are here to find the Royal Guards, I am the captain of the guards. I am Sircandus, the captain of the Royal Guards. But how come? The last heir was dead twenty years ago! Only she can spark our hope.” Ossirad said nothing, but handed the Sinarli to her. She held it in her hands, and her tears fall off her cheeks. “So it is true. The Princess is not dead.” She wept in delight, and said to Ossirad, “The keys of the cells in this level are in the hands of the guards whom you just slain. This room’s cells are filled with Royal Guards. Open the doors and we shall follow you.” The scouts of Nethervast quickly opened every door, and the guards were released. Then Sircandus said to the guards, “The day we have been waiting for so long has finally come! Sprulisa will be once again in the hands of the Heir of Sinardúir!” The thirty guards led the scouts of Nethervast in the prison and released more Royal Guards. They exited Aterkamos and marched secretly throught the Plans of Spruces. They can see the sun rising up, lightening another day with the radiance of the sun. They walked at the edge of Nigamons to avoid guards. Ossirad told them about the Celláions, and they aimed at the Port of Heavens. They marched through green grasses and tall trees, they climbed the mountains and saw the spectacular view of Sprulisa.

In the campsite, Mairperkaz and Silaca sat in the tent at the centre. “I wonder how Ossirad is, hope he had found the Royal Guards,” Silaca said. Mairperkaz replied, “I believe he had, Silaca. Did you know that Achemidus used the Guards as human sacrifice to celebrate the Revolution Day? He couldn’t kill all of them if he wants to continue this hideous tradition.” Silaca said in a sorrowful togue, “His action is odious. But if Ossirad is discovered, what should we do?” “We enter into Sprulisa and fought them anyways. This is the only way.” Silaca agreed. Then they stood up and walked outside of the tent. When they exited, people of Nethervast gathered around them. Mairperkaz told them stories of Sprulisa in details, and she talked about the beauty of elder days of the country. “It is heart breaking to see something being ruined. It is because you know how beautiful it was, before all of the sorrow happened,” she said. Silaca then spoke of the plans of Ossirad and the sign of success from him. She also informed about the backup plan that Tristica and her just made. Between the flickering torches they talked under the stars. The people of Nethervast marvel at everything in Solarin; from the plants to the heaven. Then Mairperkaz spoke, “If we win the war, I will approve you to go wherever you want to go in the Rings of the World. You can choose to return to Nethervast or to remain below the heaven. When all the things end, we shall be in peace.”

The company, led by Ossirad, Kalav, and Sircandus finally reached the edge of the Quinfonda Forest. They saw the greenness of the old, and Sircandus told Ossirad the tales of the forest. With her and Ossirad’s lead, they quickly found the mountains where the Port of Heaven has likely located. They climbed the mountain once more, and they saw the vastness of Sprulisa. Sircandus pointed at the platforms and told Ossirad, “those are the evil platforms that Achemidus built.” Ossirad nodded. They quickly reached the summit, and between the platforms of stone, they saw a small road. They walked, and passed several arches of stone, and suddenly, a man, cloaked in white, decorated with feathers stopped them with weapons. He said, “Speak your names! What is the purpose of arriving at the hidden place?” Sircandus, seeing the face of the person, walked to him. “Does the guard of the Port not recognize his old friend?” The men looked at her, and his face broke into a surprised and married gesture. “Sircandus! I thought you are dead, burnt by the fire of Turker! I know you have long tales to tell, but first enter the Port of Heavens to rest.” They quickly marched on and passed through maze-like passages of stone. Then they reached at the edge of the cliff, and a small gate, covered by snow, showed up. The men pressed some of the stone buttons on the gate quickly, and the gate opened. They entered in. The Port of Heavens was many caves carved inside the cliff, and it faced toward the Quinfonda Forest. The buildings were decorated by patterns of Old Sprulisa, and it was composed of hundreds of arches. The site was so secret that there is no way to find it by observing the mountain from Sprulisa. Seven huge ships were ties to the cliff, and their bodies were covered by the mountains. Each ship had an entrance to it. When the guards were settled and the people of Nethervast walking around to appreciate the building, Kalav, Ossirad, Sircandus and the men sat in a rom. Sircandus spoke first, “Cáralus, I believe you are eager to listen to our crazy stories. But first let Ossirad speak.” Cáralus, stared at Ossirad and said, “I believe you know this place, right? I have seen you before.” Ossirad nodded and began his tale of Tristica and the company of Acacia, and the Company of Stonia, their adventured in Nethervast, and the return of the princess. Cáralus was so surprised that he had to interrupted him for several times, and when Ossirad is finished, he asked about the princess. “If you don’t believe so, here is Sinarli, her necklace that she gave to me when I departed from the campsite.” Cáralus then talked about Sinandria and Cellaé, and he said, “I will have all my soldiers, four hundred additional, to assist you. The seven remaining ships will also be used. We will win this fight, and the darkness of Sprulisa will end.” Then, following the request of Ossirad, a ship was sent to the campsite to show the success of Ossirad. The ship flew in the azure sky, decorated with the radiance of the sun and the white clouds of the heaven.

Silaca rushed in the tent of Mairperkaz. “A ship of Sprulisa is sent! Ossirad had the success!” Mairperkaz rushed out of her chair, and she saw a small dot, shaped like a ship, flying beside the mountains of Quinfonda Forest. Mairperkaz was amazed, and she announced to the tropes. “Ossirad has complete his quest in finding the remaining forces in Sprulisa! We will prepare for the final battle tonight and wait for tomorrow’s night to attack! The hope has finally come!” The soldiers were delighted and quickly went into preparation. Silaca stood beside Mairperkaz, and said, “Tristica, soon the moment that we have waited for so long will reach us. The burden of the light is on us.” “Yes. And we will do what we can do, to capture the last light of Solarin.”

It was deep in the night when the Armies of the Nethervast attacked. It was the seventh day after they came to Solarin, and the armies had been resting and preparing for the big moment while Ossirad led a small group of Nethervast scouts, sneaking into Kazagrûm Sprulisa and rescuing the Royal Guards, uniting the Celláions. They had had the signal from Ossirad that all is well. So, as Mairperkaz concerned, the final war that will change the history of Solarin had come.

After the sun just went down, and the scarlet hue still lingered in the deepening sky, Mairperkaz asked Silaca to meet her in her tent. Silaca, already wearing the silver armours and snowy white cape, walked into the tent. Her face was lightened by the warm, flickering candles inside. “Tristica, for what you call me here?” She asked curiously. Mairperkaz said, handing her a long weapon clothed in black leather. “Here, this is Nigriath, the sword of snow, the partner sword of yours, Plagriath. I will give it to you, since I already forged another sword for myself during this war. When you lead the army to break down the darkness inside Spulisa, may it be the light when it is most needed.” Silaca hold the sword and unleashed it from its scabbard. The light of Rúfuharn shined in her hand. “You are the daughter of the hidden realm of Red Sand, and it is just to let you handle the marvel of your homeland,” Mairperkaz said. Silaca thanked her, and they sat down beside the table and started talking about the starting of the war. Meanwhile the soldiers outside got girted and armed.

It was already midnight when Mairperkaz exited her tent. She walked slowly onto a stone that jutted out of the ground. She stood on it. Her body was enveloped with the black iron of Nethervast, and spikes in her armour protruded outwards. She wore huge breastplates and boots, and on her head, between the waving raven hair, lied the crown of the darkness. The middle spike of the five spikes of the crown had the Obsidian of Power inlay in its iron body. The black rape flown out of her shoulder like a cascade of dark water. Her iris was as dark as before, but now her eyewalls were painted black also. Her face was clothed by iron mask. On her right hand she held her sword Darkamessekith. It glowed ferociously in the light of the torches. In her left hand was Kalaperzarith, the long spear. She slowly lifted her sword to the army standing before her. “Now, the people from Nethervast! The last day has finally come, and so do the doom of the Malenions! Remember the venomous deeds and the fierce fire they had brought to Solarin! Remember the destruction of peace and the massacre of peoples of freedom! Tonight, we march into the corrupted realm of Sprulisa, and reclaim it back the hands of the rightful ones! This war might lead to our own destruction, to our own ruin, but it is also the dynasties of the Malenions! March to the Realm Sprulisa! Let the darkness be shattered!” The armies held up their spears and swords. Silaca felt the ground was broken by the speech of Mairperkaz, for the power is so great. Silaca waved her own sword and led a small company of riders to the east, crossing the forest. Mairperkaz quickly jumped onto a Kelavac, which its head was also clocked in iron armour, and rode forward. The riders and infantry quickly followed her lead, and huge torches and burning flames followed her. They rode in the darkness, the hooves of the Kelavac stepping on the stones of Sprulisa. They crossed the Gap of Khamkus and entered into the Realm of Sprulisa. They kept riding, approaching the Great Citadel of Kazudug.

While the troops of Mairperkaz were marching to Kazudug, Silaca led her riders across the forest. Her sword Plagriath shined so bright that she was like the lighthouse of the riders, leading them through the dark green trees of the Quinfonda. After they reach the edge of the forest, they saw a huge grassy plane crossed by rivers. “Riders of Nethervast! We are now in the Realm pf Sprulisa!” Their pace quickened as the Kelavacs legs moved more frequently. When the troops were all in the plane, she held out her sword and the light pierce the darkness. Ossirad, worrying about the troops of Mairperkaz and Silaca, saw the star-like light in the dark, and ran to Sircandus and Cáralus. “They are in Sprulisa now! I saw the light of Plagriath! It is our time to assist them!” Sircandus and Cáralus, after hearing the words of Ossirad, quickly assembled the troops of Royal Guards and Celláions. They both wore the armour in the Port of Heavens; their breastplates were silver and their cape azure, and they were painted with white paint a head of an Aquiläustel. Cáralus went off to lead the fleet of the ships. The seven ships of Old Sprulisa were sailing again on the sky of the Realm, and their sails so huge and bright that they shined like stars of the heaven.  The soldiers waved their bright swords at the sky and rushed out of the Port, marching to the citadel of Kazudug. Their blue flags flied like birds of the sky, and their weapons shined like the light of Gilämare. Soon they reached Nimirith Sindárium and joined with Silaca. Ossirad and Silaca hugged each other, and he saw tears in the eyes of Silaca. “We are near to our success, and I am amazed by the troops you gathered.” They marched to the Essë hills and destroyed some troops of Malenion there. Then from the north of Kazudug they joined the troops of Mairperkaz.

Mairperkaz just arrived at the citadel of Kazudug, and she rode forward. “The vicious Malenions of Turker! Come forward to meet the challenge of the Lost King!” A group of Maleion infantry was released, and they were cloaked in golden armour, and holding knifes and blades. They rushed forward, but Mairperkaz led the riders to meet them. The Kalevacs crushed into the Malenions, breaking their defence and smashing their armour. The blades of poison were broken, the helmets of hatred were splintered. Mairperkaz rode furiously, waving her sword. Heads of Malenions fell of across her blade. When they defeated the infantry of Malenions, Mairperkaz saw Ossirad, Silaca, and Sircandus riding with the troops. They lighten up the darkness inside, Mairperkaz, seeing the success of Silaca and Ossirad, was delighted. When they arrived, the troops quickly joint together. The forces inside the citadel were emptied, and huge number of soldiers rushed outwards and stood their ground. Forces inside the citadel rushed outwards, like waves of vicious wind. Archers loaded their bows with arrows and ready to send them into the heads of the enemy. Mairperkaz, standing in front of the army beside Silaca and Ossirad, felt the silence in the surroundings. The two sides stood still, with still some distance away from each other. Torches of Nethervast burnt silently. Light of fire flickered on Mairperkaz’s dark face. She reached out to Silaca, and asked her to lead the minor troops to the left, and Ossirad and Cálarus leading the Celláions. Then she said to Sircandus, “It is always good to see an old friend, just not on the battlefield,” she smiled. Sircandus said, “You changed a lot, Sinandria. We will march together in the middle to destroy the darkness.” Mairperkaz agreed. Then she turned to the troops of the Malenion, and she saw that they were wearing the same armour as the ones they wore on the Royal Revolution, and the never dying hatred in her heart started burning. Her eyes were filled with the flames of revenge. She rode forward with her sword in her hand. She spoke to the Malenions, “I wish to lay my eyes upon the ruler of this realm. Where is your king Achemidus Turker? Bring him forward!” The captain of the troops blinked his vicious eyes, and said, “Lord Turker is on the three unreachable platforms. You can never reach them.” His dark mouth then opened and smiled. Sharp beast-like teeth shown between the dark lips. Mairperkaz stared at him in disgust. Then she turned to the soldiers of Nethervast, the Royal Guards, and the Celláions, and spoke with power, “This is the moment of the destruction of the darkness that lingered too long in the Realm of Sprulisa! Now the Last Heir of Sinardúir will claim it again! March! March to the darkness! March with the light! The line was not broken, and she has returned!” She rode forward with Sircandus, and the troops of Nethervast and the Royal Guards mingled together.

The riders of Nethervast began to charge. Soil and pieces of stone were stirred with the mud and fresh grass of the plain. Dust flied in the air like a thin layer of silk, veiling the light of the torches. The riders held their spears forward, assembling a forest of sharp black iron trees. Capes and cloaks of dark flied in the wind as the pace of the Kelavacs quickened. The soldiers yelled and shouted at their enemy as their Kelavacs and their bodies smashed into the ones of the Malenions. Their force crushed the infantry of the enemy as their poisonous blades stabbed into the line of black riders. Arrows from the vicious realm were fired, some of the riders fell, but others kept marching. Their hooves stepped on the heads of the enemy, and their swords slices their throat. The riders’ weapons crossed with the blades of the Malenions, and armours were cracked, and shields splintered. The Malenions, despite the power of the wave of riders, held their positions and kept slicing the riders with their blades. But their defence were too weak, and the infantry quickly collapsed. The riders of Nethervast, through the leading of Mairperkaz, were about to attack the Gate. Suddenly, huge snakes were thrown out of the citadel, and their thick body slide across the battlefield. Their fangs were white, and their venom deadly. The Kalevacs were bitten and the riders falling of their horses. “Cankagus! Those are Cankagus!” Sircandus shouted. Mairperkaz ordered the troops to not stop, but then, a line of huge horned four-legged beasts broke into the battlefield. The Gate of Kazadug had opened, and huge armies belched out of its iron doors. They crushed the riders and broke the army of Nethervast. The snakes surrounded the riders, and the beasts crushed them with their huge hooves. The riders struggled to slay them, but it was difficult. All hope seemed fading toward the darkness as more and more riders rode toward death.

Silaca was separated from Ossirad, and she and a group of Nethervast soldiers were lost in the battlefield. The soldiers beside them confronted a group of Cankagi. Her companions were bitten and lied on the ground into oblivion. She looked around, and saw the field that was originally barren and bleak was now covered with burning flames and charging soldiers. Dead bodies scattered on the field with broken weapons. She saw the brutality and cruelness of the battle. Then suddenly, she felt herself covered in a shadow, and when she turned around, she saw a huge beasts accompanied by some Malenions. The soldiers rushed toward her while she used Plagriath to slay the soldiers. But more rushed on, and she was quickly outnumbered. The beast was stepping closer to her, wishing to crush her with its huge hooves. Stones was broken under its iron feet. When the Malenions felt the joy of triumph over Silaca and her soldiers from Nethervast, she pulled out Nigriath. She held the burning blades out, and their light radiated outwards, blinding the eyes of the enemy. With tremendous force, she then crossed the two blades together, and the star of Rúfuharn rises. The light pierces through the beast and the soldiers as they were blinded by the light. The soldiers of Nethervast quickly rushed on and slain all of them. They then escaped into the field swiftly as possible.

Mairperkaz’s Kalevac was bitten by the Cankagus, and she slain the snake and quickly escaped. Then she encountered a group of Malenions and fought furiously and killed them. The infantry and archers of Nethervast entered the battlefield accompanied by the Kafelads. Their forces, aimed at the snakes and the beasts, shattered the Malenions. The huge beasts were taken down by arrows of the Nethervast, and the snakes were slain. Black waves of soldiers rushed into the field to meet its enemies. Then Mairperkaz looked around and saw the fifteen Kafelads. She rushed to the middle one as it descended down the battlefield. She hopped on and sat on the beast’s body and held the reins. It carried Mairperkaz into the sky and joined her with the other fourteen riders. The wings of Kafelads protruded like black umbrellas, and their claws clinched like iron fists. They flew up above the battlefield of Kazadug, and from the beast Mairperkaz saw the torches of Nethervast flickering in the distance darkness. But at the horizon she saw golden rays of light appeared from Gilämare. The sky on the east was dyed into a clean pink with warm orange around it. The beasts ascended as the light climbed up above the Quinfonda forest. Then they reached the three ghastly made platforms of Achemidus. Mairperkaz smiled, and pointed her sword Darkamessekith at the platforms, and said calmly, “Now we attack those last defend of Achemidus Turker. Let him embrace his doom.”

The light from Gilämare appeared from the Quinfonda as it lightened the eastern part of the heaven. The sky slowly turned into a warm orange, and clouds were lined golden. The fifteen Kafelads flew in the sky, encircling the platforms. Guards of the platform loaded their bows and arrows and aimed at them. Mairperkaz shouted to two of the riders, “Kacus! You lead five of your soldiers to the lowest platform!” Then she turned to the otherside, “Kevazus! Lead five of your soldiers to the second platform! The rest come with me!” The company quickly separated into two groups of six and a group of three. Mairperkaz led the minor group while Kevazus and Kacus led the others. The winds of the beasts flapped and quickly descend down to the platform. The archers of the platform aimed at them, but the skin of Kafelads were thick as iron. Kacus and the company threw spears and sent arrows at the guards as they were quickly taken down. Arrows of the Malenions and the Nethervast crossed in the sky, The Kafelads dodged several arrows from the Malenions, but the arrows were too dense, and the power of the company of Kacus was quickly wining. Three of the riders already fell from the Kafelads and sink into the void below. Kevazus rode to help Kacus, but it was too late. For one of the dark-feathered arrows flew at Kacus, and it sank its arrowhead at the chest of Kacus. He fell of his Kafelad and disappeared while descending below. Kevazus shouted and cried. He then directed the riders to fly to the platforms and approach them. They did as the Kafelads swooshed through the air like dark winds. Then the riders threw their torches at the platform. The mouths of the flames quickly devoured the wooden structure of the platform. The lowest platform burned harshly, and from her Kafelad Mairperkaz saw the archers being swallow by the flames. She smiled. Years ago, the flame of Malenions swallowed by brother and killed him, now it is time to do the same from them, she thought. The army of the Kafelads were breaking apart as the arrows of Malenions were casted upon them. Mairperkaz ordered Kevazus to take his company out of the fight. “Pull back! There will be more of us coming!” she shouted. Archers accumulated on the platforms as the Kafelads looped around them, swiftly flying pass every attack. But they were unable to take down the other platforms.

The sun already climbed a little above the Quinfonda Forest. Rays of light emerged and radiated outwards. The western sky was lit, and its darkness being chased away by the new coming brightness. Mairperkaz stared at the direction of the light, and between the peaks seven great boats of Old Sprulisa appeared. They were small, black dots, and it slowly grew into a ship-like shadow, and then the patterns on the sails could be seen. The head ship, sailed by Cáralus, approached the platforms. Silver lines the ship’s body like a halo. Archers of Celláions fired their blue-feathered silver arrows at the guards of the platforms. As the lowest platform burnt silently in flames of Nethervast, the second was taken over by the arrows and forces of Celláions. The ships sailed above the platform, and huge stones of the remnant of Sprulisa was thrown off at the platforms. The force of the falling stones shattered the structure of the platform as holes were punched through it. Black wood of Malenon cracked and gold of Rankagath melted. The arrows of Celláions rained down onto the platforms, slaying every visible enemy. The Kafelads flew between the ships to assist them with spears of black iron. Mairperkaz, when flying pass the ship of Cálarus, waved at him for greetings. She then flew to the front to confront her enemies. The seven ships surrounded the second platform. Cáralus ordered the huge crossbows on ship to be fired. Gigantic iron arrows, followed by a thick rope tied onto it, were fired at the second platform. The spikes and hooks on them grabbed deep into the wooden flesh of the platform. The guards struggled desperately to pull the arrows out of the wooden structures but was unable to do so as the iron claws clinched into the wood for too deep. Then the seven ships sailed at different directions to pull the rope straight. The ships tightened the rope, but they kept moving with great forces. Mairperkaz, still circling the dying platform, looked curiously at the actions of the fleet. With the huge ropes tightened, Cáralus shouted at the other ships, “Now pull! Bring the engines at highest level!” Then the ships’ engines brought out huge clumps of white smoke as they marched. Then in a sudden, the wooden structure of the platform cracked, the huge vicious wood trunks were pulled apart. The two crossed woods were broken, and the platforms was cracked into several pieces. Iron junctures were splintered by the tremendous force as the whole ground of the platform was like being smashed into pieces. Wooden buildings fell, watch towers cracked, and the wooden body fractured. Guards of the platform cried hopelessly as they were too smashed by the collapsing building and fell with the remnant together down to the battlefield. The second platform was pulled apart by the ships of Sprulisa as its structures rupture under the force.

Down below the second platform lied Kazadug. Silaca lifted her head and saw the shadow that had been clouding the battlefield breaking down. Huge burning woods were casted down into Kazudug, setting it on fire and smashing it into pieces. The Malenions were killed by the falling platform. The Gate of Kazudug opened widely as people inside ran from the falling disaster from the heaven. The army of Nethervast, seeing the Gate of Kazudug opened, marched into the citadel. Ladders were lad on the walls of the citadel, and soldiers climbed them quickly. The darkness of Nethervast besieged the citadel. Just when they broke the Gate of Kazadug, the armies of Nethervast, the Royal Guards, and the Celláions united. The light of Plagriath and the Old Days of Sprulisa returned again to the darkening realm. The flags of azure and their armour brough light into the city. It was quickly broken as both the impact of the falling platform smashed into the citadel and the soldiers of Nethervast rushed into it. The main military centre of Kazagrûm was fallen.

Mairperkaz laughed ferociously at the breaking of the Kazagrûm. “Look at the remnants of your fallen Empire, Achemidus! It must has surprised you that a lost queen can be so potent!” She smiled sinisterly at the dead bodies of the Malenions and directed the rest of the Kafelads to follow her. The wings beasts rushed to the last platform where Achemidus dwelled. They dove down upon the last platform. The archers were quickly slain by the Celláions on the ships of Sprulisa. Mairperkaz and the riders of Nethervast swooshed on the platform as the iron claws of the Kafelads grabbed the pathetic guards and threw them down onto the battlefield. Torches were thrown from Kevazus. The platform quickly burnt. In the chaos of the escaping guards and running Malenions, Mairperkaz spotted a tall figure who wore a mask and was holding a blade. His golden armour shined in the light of heaven. He was directing a group of archers to aim at the Kafelads. Mairperkas stared at him as her Kafelad flied down to meet him. She first used her long sword to chop the archers in halves, then she let the Kafelad use its huge claws to grab him off the platform. Meanwhile, the platform burnt in flames and was pierces by arrows from Celláions.

Mairperkaz ascended above the clouds of old and spotted a small black dot at the edge of heaven. The Kafelad flied quickly to the point. It was the Secret Platform. There, Mairperkaz threw the body of Achemidus down at the platform, and she hopped down from the Kafelad. Achemidus slowly sat up but was still kneeling on the ground. Bitter wind passed through them as Achemidus’s hair swayed beside his face. The mask was painted more loathsome than Mairperkaz left Sprulisa. His golden armour’s spikes were not less sharp then Mairperkaz encountered him at the Revolution Day. His ragged cape was still sullied by the water of Rankagath. Achemidus lifted his head and opened his snake eyes. He stared at the ominous dark figure in front of him. Mairperkaz’s height increased by the Obsidian in her crown, and to Achemidus, she looked like a giant. Mairperkaz’s dark armour and her weapons made her looked like the messenger of darkness and death. “Lord Mortenebris? Have my hour come already?” Mairperkaz smiled cruelly as she heard Achemidu address her as the Death Lord of ancient Sprulisa Tales. “No, Achemidus. How can a person you lied viciousness and cruelness upon be so generous and saint to forgive you and permit you pass into your morality?” She saw his eyes widened. “Your heart is right. The Lost Sinandria has returned to her kingdom!” She opened her mouth and smiled. She splayed out her arms, and Darkamessekith and Kalaperzarith shined cruelly. Her black cape flied in the air, and the black spikes on her armour seemed to pierce Achemidus’s heart out. “So, Sinandria, you returned like a lord of darkness, gathering this kind of force for destruction. What do you wish from an old and dying king that claimed your realm years ago? My Empire is already fallen under the power of yours, I feel.” Mairperkaz smiled, “It must be heartbreaking you see all the flames that devoured your great architectures, is it not? I asked you for the last fight between us, to see who take the life of whom, to see if the viciousness of Malenon can still linger in Solarin!” Achemidus, staring into the dark eyes of Mairperkaz, lied his left hand on the place of his heart. He felt silent for a while, and answered, “So be it.” “Rise! Rise from your knees! Hold your weapon!” Mairperkaz yelled fiercely and punched him with the side of Kalaperzarith. Achemidus rose with his feet and held his blade tight in his hands. “The last dual between Mairperkaz and Achemidus! The two of which shall fight until one’s blood is spilled and lied on the ground!” Mairperkaz announced with laughter.

Mairperkaz swinged Darkamessekith to Achemidus. Its thick dark blade crushed into the knife of Achemidus. They fought with force and fierceness, as the blades of Mairperkaz flied to the body of Achemidus. Mairperkaz slowly waves her sword and spear, casually harming Achemidus while defending his attacks. She always slices through the parts of the body where it is not fatal. She was not trying to slay him as quickly as possible, but to maximize his suffering and gave him more wounds. Her dark blade could always aim at the weak point of the armour of Achemidus, sclicing it apart. Blood oozed out of the wounds on Achemidus’s body, dripping outwards and dying the golden armour into a crimson. After several crossing of the blades, Mairperkaz swiftly pushed the tip of Darkamessekith into the crack on the armour of Achemidus. He gave a cry and shouted, “Stop this fight for a second!” Mairperkaz pulled back her weapons. “For what does a King of my realm act so cravenly?” “You have weapons in both hands, while I only have one. Is this fair?” Mairperkaz laughed, and threw Kalaperzarith, her dark spear, aside. She then kicked to the side with her heaven iron boot. “Is this fair now, Achemidus?” He nodded, and the fight continued. The sword of Mairperkaz slices through every part of exposed skin of Achemidus. Although he fought ferociously but was still unable to harm the iron-covered body of Mairperkaz. Then Achemidus suddenly jumped up and pointed his blade at the face of Mairperkaz. It sliced through her skin that were not protected by her armour. Mairperkaz’s eyes were filled with fury. Hatred once again burned in her mind, as she swiftly swinged Darkamessekith across Achemidus and chopped his lower left arm. The arm fell on the ground as blood splashed out. The dark red fluid dyed the platform into a fatal scarlet. Achemidus cried in pain as he tried to stop the bleeding at his wound. Blood penetrated through the gap between his fingers. Seeing the painful situation of Achemidus, Mairperkaz swinged Darkamessekith again, but this time aimed at the hilt of his knife. He cried and the blade flew out of his hand. Mairperkaz then hit his back with the side of her sword, forcing him to knee down before her. She then stepped onto the blade of Achemidus, and with a slight crack, the blade broke in half. Achemidus saw his miserable situation as the tip of Darkamessekith lied on his neck. “You lose, Achemidus the servant of Silsänaron, Achemidus the treacherous, Turker the Vicious King of Kazagrûm,” Mairperkaz spoke with contempt, “Now show yourself! Stop hiding the true face from mortal eyes!” She then lifted the tip of Darkamessekith and move it to his mask. She picked the mask and flung it to the ground. “For what are you wearing this? To cover up your true self?” Mairperkaz said. Achemidus replied with a coarse voice, “It is because the burnt face is too hideous to lay eyes upon. The charred flesh and the condense blood scared the mortals.” Mairperkaz stared at his destroyed face, “How can I be scared by the face that was burnt by my kin’s blood?” She breathed deep, and began, “You were sent from Malenon to break the peach of Solarin, are you not? You aimed at Sprulisa. Why? For what? I often questioned the heaven, why shall I bear this great burden of my kingdom, and why shall all this tragedy be lay upon me? At the day of Revolution, when I saw the marvels of Sprulisa burnt in the flames of Malenion, do you not know how it feel, Achemidus? You must have felt it today, to see the empire that you built with your own hands being ruined this way.” Achemidus, seeing Mairperkaz stopped speaking, said, “Yes, it is heartbreaking. Your revenge on me and the Malenions is very successful, you defeated us. Do you still remember the Elder Days? When the fleet of Sprulisa flied calmly across the azure heaven? When the bright citadel of Nimirith Sindárium stood beside the Quinfonda Forest? They are all gone, like a breath of white smoke. It is me who corrupted the country, but it is you, Mairperkaz Sinandria, who truly ruined it. The forces of Nethervast were too great that it not only broke the defence of the Malenion, but also shattered the remnant of the glory of the Elder Days. Look around you! Does not the history of Sprulisa burn? Does not the marvel of the Old Sprulisa fall? Nethervast you brought the army from, a place of true darkness.” He took a breath. “It is you who truly ended the line of Sinardúir,” he said. “But do not be dismayed! My darkness and viciousness from Malenon are no different from yours from Nethervast. I brought darkness to Celeriand, and you also did this. It is only that yours broke mine, but when will the world be free from darkness? In fact, the world will never be freed from darkness; it is always there. Clear days and radiance of the sun will not break them. The light of Heaven from Gilämare will not destroy them.

“There is no good or evil in this world, only the one with more power will succeed. You can be said to be the evil, Sinandria, and I am the good, because you disturbed the peace of Kazagrûm and murdered our people. But it is me who first corrupted your kingdom and threw you to prison, right? It is me who slain the innocent, right? But how many innocents have you killed during your quest? Every glory in history is accompanied by countless victims and murders, innumerable blood spills and wars. The Malenions are powered by hatred and ill-will, but are you not? Are you not controlled by your own hatred? This is the laws of the World which no one can change. The heart of humans is just too drawn to anger and revenges that will go uncontrollable.” Achemidus ended. Then his vicious snake eyes once again stared into the dark ones of Mairperkaz, “You are tortured by your own hatred for too long. It accumulated and erupted at this moment when Kazagrûm is destroyed. There is no benevolence nor selflessness in this world, it is long gone! It will fall into the chaos of hatred and sorrow, until the light of Gilämare shine not on the fallen realm of Solarin.” Then he grabbed the hilt of his broken blade, and with tremendous force he pushed the broken blade into his chest. He gave a cry and fell down on his back. Then His body fell from the edge of the Hidden Platform and disappeared into the dark. His body was truly smashed into the ground of Sprulisa and broken into dusts.

Mairperkaz stood on the platform alone. Tears fell from her face. She knew Achemidus was right, she had done loathsome actions to fulfill her wills of illness. Then she casted her dark crown onto the platform and threw all of her armours down into the abyss below. She was now cloaked in dark rags, like the day when she escaped from this hopeless prison. She jumped off the platform and disappeared into the darkness below.

She shut her eyes while falling. This is the end of everything, and the end of all things. It is done, the quest is finished, the revenge is fulfilled. What now? Soon death will reach me as my body smashed into the ground, she thought. Then suddenly she felt she landed on something soft and feathery. She looked up and saw two mighty wings flapping on the side. An eagle head turned and said, “I promised that we will be united in peace after this is all over.” She grabbed onto Celláe’s soft feathers, “Celláe, I am weary of this world. Why do you not send me to the abyss and let me end this life?” Celláe answered calmly, “Because there is still future you have not seen.” They flied between the flickering flames of the destroyed platforms, and Sinandria could once again feel the warm breath of wind on her face.

Sinandria woke up in a soft bed. The warm sunlight of heaven fell calmly on her face. She opened her eyes and sat up from the soft blanket. She saw those familiar faces, Silaca, Ossirad, Cálarus, and Sircandus. She quickly greeted them. Then she saw Sivica, and she rushed to her. They sat together around a table to tell their legendary tales with each other. The sun quickly went down as darkness veiled the sky again. In the meeting, Sinandria said to Sircandus and Cálaurs, “I am too weary of the world. I have no strength to rule the Realm Sprulisa anymore. I wish Sircandus, the head of the Royal Guards, can rule the Kingdom with Cálarus at her assistance. The Elder Days had passed.”

The five stayed in Rúfuharn for several months after they parted and went onto each other’s lives. Cálarus and Sircandus went to Sprulisa to organize the broken Kingdom, Sivica and Silaca reunited, and they lived in Rúfuharn thereafter, and Sinandria went with Ossirad. It is told that they parted at the Persevalcû mountains where Ossirad went to his homeland Ocenia. He said that after that, he never saw Sinandria ever again.

Here ended the Lost Lore of the Last Heir of Sinardúir and the End of the Sinardúrin Age of Sprulisa. For neither benevolence nor harmony shall survive in the Rings of the World, accompanied by those of evil and sinister groping in the darkness; the ultimate ending of all things will be forever chaos in the void.

Ancient lore told that Sinandria, cloaked in black rags, wandered in Solarin without a name. She walked from the mountains of snow to the vast grasslands. She often appears near the coastlines of Solarin as she stared into the blue yonder of Gilämare. People of Ocenia called her Lamatir, the mourning one. She often lingered in the Horn of Ocenia. The general of Ocenia, Olentair (Ossirad in common language), often walk with Lamatir on the coastlines. In a song often sang by the fishermen of Ocenia, the Olas Lamatir es Narair, Lamatir brought a white-haired woman with her. She wore white cloak as well as a silver tunic. Her hair was as bright as snow, and her eyes were blue. The fishermen of Ocenia named her Narair. Narair girted herself with two swords and often gave Lamatir one of them as they held them to the Great Ocean Gilämare. The blades shined under the radiance of the sun. Narair often stare into the ocean and put her hands in the salty water of Gilämare. They saw Lamatir and Narair twice, and after that, saw Lamatir three times. Then her black figure never appeared again in Ocenia.

Records in Anonia, mainly from a diary of an old woman who lived inside the Anon Forest, said that the same black figure, although named as Alamarë, often lingered in the Anon Forest. She kneed before tombs inside the forest and often lied white flowers on the middle one, the tomb of the lost general of Acacia.

A book named Of Sinandria and her lost tales in the Library of Sprulisa said that Sinandria visited Sprulisa for five times and greeted Sircandus and Cálarus. They talked together in the newly built citadel Nimirith Sinanrith. But Sinandria only stayed in Sprulisa for several days after departing.

Finally, the people of Malenon heard about the deeds of Sinandria and decided to hunt her. But the records proved that they were never successful, in fact, they never saw the black figure.

The last record of Sinandria and her wandering is that in Litorä, the Northern Coastlines, some fishers saw her and Silaca. They lingered there for several days, and according to the fishers, on the seventh day the black figure (Sinandria) died, and the white one (Silaca) placed her dead body inside a boat that she had crafted. The boat was decorated with patterns of old (According to them, there were clouds and stars, and grant ships on the pattern, and it is likely that the pattern is the ones of Old Sprulisa). She placed a sword in her hands and a single white flower on her chest. She also placed a necklace around her neck. Then she pushed the boat into the Great Ocean of Gilämare, and it disappeared into the blue yonder.