The Enthroned Angel

Chapter 5: Fractures in the Light

---

3rd POV: Tensions Brewing

The morning light broke over the village of Arkaneth, but it did little to lift the oppressive weight that had settled over its inhabitants. The battle against the Harbingers had left scars—both visible and unseen. As the villagers rebuilt, their movements were slower, their faces more lined with worry than before. Conversations were hushed, wary glances exchanged as they passed the Order's camp just outside the southern gate.

Within the walls, preparations continued. Warriors reinforced defenses, sharpening weapons and tightening patrols, while the villagers stocked supplies and quietly debated what might come next. The fragile peace that had formed after the battle felt like the calm before a storm.

Thalrik Orenda stood at the edge of the wall, his gaze locked on the golden banners of the Order. His jaw was set, his grip on the spear tight. Though they had fought together the night before, their truce had been one of necessity, not trust.

Behind him, Vesimir approached, his movements purposeful but hesitant. "Chief," he said, his voice breaking the stillness. "They're still camped out there. Not a single movement since dawn."

Thalrik grunted in response, his eyes never leaving the distant camp. "They're waiting."

"For what?"

"For us to break," Thalrik replied, his tone hard. "For fear to set in. They think we'll turn the boy over willingly if they keep the pressure on long enough."

"And if they're wrong?"

Thalrik's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then they'll take him by force."

Vesimir shifted uncomfortably, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "You think they'll risk another fight so soon?"

"They don't see it as a risk," Thalrik said. "To them, it's destiny."

---

1st POV (Elethia Luxora)

From the edge of our camp, I watched the village stir to life. Their defiance was admirable, but it was also misguided. Every hour they delayed was another hour the Savior's light was kept from its rightful path.

I turned my gaze to Teryn, who stood nearby, her armor gleaming even in the soft morning light. She had been unusually quiet since the battle, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for something.

"You disapprove," I said, breaking the silence.

She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. "I don't understand why we're still here," she said. "We've seen the boy. We know he's the Savior. Why wait?"

"Because this isn't a matter of brute force," I replied, keeping my voice calm. "The villagers are afraid. If we take him by force, we risk turning their fear into anger. That anger will fester and grow. It will spread."

Teryn frowned, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "And if they never give him up willingly?"

"Then we'll act," I said firmly. "But not yet. For now, we wait. We give them time to see reason."

Her gaze lingered on me, and for a moment, I saw something in her eyes—doubt. It was fleeting, quickly replaced by her usual resolve, but it was there. The thought unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

---

3rd POV: A Divided Camp

While Elethia projected calm, not all in the Order shared her patience. At the center of the camp, a small group of Flamebearers gathered, their voices low but heated. They were younger, less tempered by experience, and their zeal burned hotter than their discipline.

"This is pointless," one of them muttered, his tone sharp. "The villagers won't hand him over. They'll fight to the death, and we'll be wasting time we don't have."

"And what do you propose?" another asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. "That we storm their walls and take him? You saw what happened last night. The Harbingers nearly wiped us out."

The first man scowled. "I propose we remind them who we are. The light doesn't bow to fear. It burns through it."

A third voice cut through the argument, low and commanding. "Enough."

The Flamebearers turned to see Teryn standing at the edge of their circle, her dark eyes narrowing. "Your impatience does you no credit," she said coldly. "You think we serve the light by acting like raiders?"

The first man bristled but said nothing. Teryn stepped closer, her voice dropping. "The High Priestess has a plan. You will follow it. If I hear talk of defiance again, I'll remind you where your loyalty lies."

The Flamebearers nodded reluctantly, their rebellious energy quelled. Teryn watched them disperse, her own unease growing. She had quelled their dissent, but their frustration lingered in the air like smoke from a dying fire.

---

1st POV (Valaith)

The boy was quieter today. His golden wings had stopped their faint twitching, and his glow had dimmed to a soft, steady light. He sat in my lap, his small hands clutching a wooden toy Serenya had given him—a simple carving of a bird, its wings spread in flight.

Serenya sat beside me, her gaze alternating between the boy and the window. "Are the bad people still here?" she asked quietly.

I nodded, my chest tightening at the fear in her voice. "Yes," I said. "But they won't hurt us."

"How do you know?"

Because your father won't let them. Because I won't let them. But I didn't say that. Instead, I pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Because we're strong," I said. "And we protect each other."

The boy looked up at me then, his golden eyes wide and unblinking. There was a question in his gaze, though I couldn't decipher it. He reached out, his tiny hand brushing against my cheek, and for a moment, I felt a strange warmth spread through me. It wasn't like before, when his light had surged during the battle. This was softer, more personal—a quiet reassurance that everything would be okay.

I wanted to believe him.

---

3rd POV: The Gathering Storm

As the sun climbed higher, the tension in Arkaneth thickened. The villagers moved through their routines with heavy hearts, their eyes constantly drifting toward the gate. The warriors remained on edge, their weapons within reach at all times.

Beyond the walls, the Order's camp was a mirror image. The warriors polished their armor and sharpened their blades, their movements sharp and precise. But beneath the surface, doubt and frustration simmered. The battle with the Harbingers had shaken their confidence, and the villagers' defiance had stoked their anger.

In the middle of it all, the boy sat quietly in the Orenda home, unaware of the storm brewing around him. His golden light was faint but steady, a reminder of the power he carried—and the chaos it could unleash.

The world felt poised on the edge of something vast and unknowable. And as the hours passed, it became clear to all who watched that this fragile peace could not last.

3rd POV: A Growing Divide

The fragile truce between the villagers of Arkaneth and the Order of Burning Light teetered on the brink. While both sides outwardly maintained civility, the underlying tension grew with each passing hour. Conversations became whispers, glances turned into glares, and every movement was scrutinized.

At the southern gate, Thalrik paced back and forth, his spear resting against his shoulder. The warriors on watch exchanged uneasy looks, their eyes darting between the camp outside the walls and the restless villagers behind them.

"Chief," Vesimir called, approaching with long strides. His expression was tight, his brow furrowed. "We've got a problem."

Thalrik stopped mid-step, his gaze locking onto his second-in-command. "What kind of problem?"

"Some of the villagers are demanding we confront the Order," Vesimir said. "They think keeping the boy here will bring more trouble than we can handle. They're scared, Thalrik."

Thalrik sighed, his grip tightening on his spear. "And what do they expect us to do? Hand him over?"

Vesimir hesitated before nodding. "A few of them, yes. Others just want the Order gone—by force, if necessary."

Thalrik cursed under his breath. "We can't fight the Order, not now. And we're not handing over the boy."

Vesimir nodded. "I know. But the longer the Order stays, the more divided we'll become. People are scared, and fear makes them do stupid things."

---

1st POV (Thalrik)

I looked over the village, my chest heavy with the weight of leadership. Vesimir was right—fear was spreading like wildfire, and it was only a matter of time before someone acted on it. We couldn't afford that. Not now.

"Get Gram," I said, my voice low. "I want him watching the village. If anyone tries to stir trouble, I want to know about it."

Vesimir nodded. "What about the Order?"

I glanced toward their camp, where golden banners flapped lazily in the wind. "We hold the line," I said. "As long as they don't make a move, neither do we."

But even as I said the words, I felt a knot of doubt twist in my gut. How long could we keep this up? How long before fear turned to desperation and desperation to disaster?

---

3rd POV: Tensions Boil Over

In the heart of the village, a group of villagers had gathered near the central square. Their voices were hushed but urgent, their faces tight with worry. Among them was Rurik, a burly man with a shaved head and a deep scar running down his cheek. He had always been quick to anger, and today was no exception.

"This isn't right," Rurik growled, his voice low but heated. "We're risking everything for a boy we barely know. The Order's not going to leave until they get what they want. And if they don't..."

He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air. The others exchanged uneasy glances, their silence a quiet agreement.

"They saved us," a younger woman said, her tone hesitant. "During the Harbinger attack. Maybe... maybe they're right. Maybe the boy is meant for something bigger."

"Bigger doesn't mean better," Rurik snapped. "You think the Order cares about us? About this village? They'll take the boy, and if we get in their way, they'll burn this place to the ground."

"What do you suggest, then?" another man asked. "We fight them? You saw what they did to those creatures. We wouldn't last a day."

Rurik's jaw tightened. "I'm saying we make them leave. If they don't know where the boy is, they've got no reason to stay."

---

1st POV (Valaith)

Inside the house, I could feel the tension in the air as clearly as I could hear the villagers arguing outside. The boy sat quietly on the floor, playing with the wooden bird Serenya had given him. His golden light flickered faintly, a reflection of the unease that hung over us all.

Serenya sat beside me, her small hands clutching my arm. "Why are they yelling, Mama?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"They're scared," I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Scared of what might happen."

"Are we scared?" she asked, looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes.

I hesitated before answering. "A little," I admitted. "But we're strong. And we have each other. That's what matters."

She nodded, though I could see the fear lingering in her gaze. The boy looked up then, his golden eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I thought I saw something there—an understanding far beyond his years. He reached out, his small hand brushing against mine, and warmth spread through me, calming the storm in my heart.

"We'll be okay," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if I was trying to reassure them or myself.

---

3rd POV: An Unexpected Meeting

While the village grappled with its fear, Elethia Luxora sat within her tent, her hands folded in her lap. The quiet hum of prayer filled the space as she sought guidance, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The villagers' defiance was expected, but the growing division among her own warriors was not. Patience was a virtue she prided herself on, but even she felt its limits being tested.

The sound of the tent flap rustling drew her attention. She looked up to see Teryn Vestra entering, her expression as guarded as ever.

"High Priestess," Teryn began, her tone formal. "The Flamebearers are restless. They think we're wasting time."

"They lack vision," Elethia said simply, though her voice carried an edge. "Time is what we need."

Teryn hesitated, her dark eyes searching Elethia's face. "And if the villagers refuse to give him up? If they fight us?"

Elethia's expression didn't waver. "Then we will do what must be done."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken doubts. Finally, Teryn nodded and left, leaving Elethia alone with her thoughts.

The boy's light was undeniable. But so was the cost of claiming it.

3rd POV: Sparks Ignite

The tension in Arkaneth was no longer an invisible force—it was a palpable weight that pressed on every soul within the village. At midday, the fragile truce that had held between the villagers and the Order finally began to crack.

It started in the central square, where a heated argument erupted between Rurik and a group of villagers who opposed his demands. His voice rose above the murmurs, his frustration boiling over into anger.

"We can't keep hiding behind these walls!" Rurik bellowed, his scarred face twisted in rage. "The Order is a threat! The boy is a threat! The longer we wait, the worse it'll get!"

"And what would you have us do?" a younger woman named Alenya countered. "Hand the boy over to the Order? Let them turn him into a tool for their crusades? We owe him more than that!"

Rurik's fists clenched. "We owe him nothing! He's not one of us—he's a liability! If we keep protecting him, we're all going to die!"

The crowd that had gathered murmured in unease, splitting into factions as the argument escalated. Some nodded in agreement with Rurik, while others shook their heads, their faces set with defiance.

---

1st POV (Thalrik)

I arrived at the square to find chaos brewing. Villagers shouting, gesturing wildly, their faces red with anger and fear. My heart sank. This wasn't just a disagreement—it was the beginning of something far worse.

"Enough!" I roared, my voice cutting through the clamor like a blade. The crowd fell silent, all eyes turning to me. I stepped forward, my spear planted firmly in the dirt. "What in the name of the Divinitarch is going on here?"

Rurik turned to me, his face flushed. "What's going on, Chief, is that we're being led to slaughter! The Order won't leave, the boy's putting us all in danger, and no one's doing anything about it!"

I met his gaze, refusing to let him see my frustration. "The Order hasn't made a move," I said. "And the boy isn't to blame for what's happening. The Harbingers attacked us because they're drawn to conflict, not because of him."

"That's easy for you to say," Rurik snapped. "You're the one making the decisions, safe behind your walls while the rest of us—"

"Rurik!" I snapped, my voice sharp enough to make him flinch. "You think I'm safe? You think I don't feel the same fear you do? I'm doing everything I can to protect this village—including you!"

He opened his mouth to argue, but I raised a hand to silence him. "If you have a problem with my leadership, say it now. Otherwise, stand down and let me do my job."

The crowd held its breath, waiting to see what Rurik would do. For a moment, I thought he might back down. But then his jaw tightened, and he stepped forward.

"I'm not the only one who thinks this, Chief," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not protecting us. You're putting us all at risk."

---

3rd POV: The Order Intervenes

Before Thalrik could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the square. The crowd turned to see a group of warriors from the Order, led by High Priestess Elethia and Custodes Flammae Captain Teryn Vestra. Their golden armor gleamed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the villagers' worn and weathered clothing.

Elethia raised her hands in a gesture of peace, her calm voice carrying over the murmurs. "People of Arkaneth," she began, "we understand your fear. But the boy is not your enemy. He is your salvation."

The crowd parted reluctantly as she approached, her amber eyes scanning the villagers with a mix of empathy and authority. "We do not wish to bring harm to your village," she continued. "But neither can we abandon our mission. The boy's light is a gift to all of humanity—a gift that must be nurtured and protected."

Rurik scowled, his fists clenching at his sides. "And what does that mean for us? Are we just supposed to hand him over and hope you don't burn us to the ground?"

Elethia's gaze softened. "You have my word that no harm will come to your village," she said. "But the boy's destiny lies beyond these walls. Keeping him here only endangers him—and all of you."

Thalrik stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "And if we say no?" he asked, his tone cold. "What then?"

Elethia met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "We will do what we must," she said simply.

---

1st POV (Valaith)

I watched from the edge of the square, the boy cradled in my arms. His golden wings were tucked tightly against his back, their faint glow a reminder of the power he carried. The argument in the square felt like a storm, its tension pressing down on me with every word spoken.

Serenya clung to my side, her wide eyes darting between the villagers and the warriors of the Order. "Mama," she whispered, her voice trembling. "What's going to happen?"

I didn't have an answer. My heart ached with fear and uncertainty, but I couldn't let it show. I tightened my hold on the boy, his warmth grounding me.

"We'll be okay," I said softly, though I wasn't sure I believed it. "We'll figure it out."

The boy stirred then, his golden eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I thought I saw sadness there—an understanding far beyond his years. He reached up, his tiny hand brushing against my cheek, and I felt a strange sense of calm.

But that calm was shattered by the sound of a gunshot.

---

3rd POV: The Spark of Rebellion

The shot rang out from the crowd, striking the ground near Elethia's feet. The square erupted into chaos as villagers scattered, their shouts of fear and confusion filling the air. The warriors of the Order immediately drew their weapons, forming a protective barrier around Elethia.

Thalrik spun toward the source of the shot, his eyes narrowing. "Who fired that?" he roared, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Rurik stepped forward, a crude pistol in his hand. His face was a mask of anger and defiance. "I did," he said. "And I'll do it again if they don't leave."

"Rurik, stand down!" Thalrik ordered, his spear pointed at the man. "You're making this worse!"

"They're not going to leave, Chief!" Rurik shouted back. "They'll take the boy, and then they'll take everything else! You're a fool if you think they'll stop there!"

Before Thalrik could respond, Teryn Vestra stepped forward, her plasma swords igniting with a hiss. "Lower your weapon," she said coldly, her eyes locked on Rurik. "Now."

Rurik hesitated, his hand trembling. The tension in the air was unbearable, every second dragging out like an eternity.

Then, with a snarl, he dropped the pistol. It hit the ground with a dull thud, and he raised his hands in surrender.

The square fell silent, the only sound the crackling of Teryn's plasma swords as she deactivated them. Elethia stepped forward, her expression calm but firm.

"This is not the way," she said, her voice steady. "We can find a solution—together."

Thalrik's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking between Elethia and Rurik. The fault lines in the village had been exposed, and the cracks were widening. The question now was whether they could be mended—or if they would shatter completely.

3rd POV: After the Shot

The crowd in the village square had dissipated, but the tension lingered like smoke after a fire. Thalrik stood at the center of it all, his spear still in hand as he watched the villagers retreat to their homes in silence. Vesimir and Gram flanked him, their expressions grim.

The pistol lay in the dirt where Rurik had dropped it, a stark reminder of how close they had come to disaster. Elethia and her warriors remained at the edge of the square, their golden armor gleaming faintly in the late afternoon sun. Her amber eyes followed the villagers as they disappeared into their homes, her expression unreadable.

"You've lost control of your people, Chief," she said finally, her tone calm but cutting.

Thalrik turned to her, his green eyes hard. "And whose fault is that?" he retorted. "Your presence here has divided us. You've turned fear into desperation."

Elethia's lips pressed into a thin line. "I did not fire that shot. Your people did."

"And they wouldn't have if you hadn't shown up," Thalrik shot back. "The longer you stay, the worse this will get."

Teryn Vestra stepped forward then, her plasma swords deactivated but still in hand. "We could leave," she said, her tone pointed. "But we'd be back. With reinforcements."

The threat hung in the air, unspoken but understood. Vesimir's hand drifted to his blade, his emerald eyes narrowing. "Is that supposed to scare us?" he asked coldly.

"Enough," Thalrik said, holding up a hand. "We don't want this to escalate."

Elethia's gaze softened slightly, though her stance remained firm. "Neither do we," she said. "But understand this, Chief: the boy's destiny is not something you can keep hidden. The longer he stays here, the greater the danger—for him and for your village."

Thalrik didn't respond immediately. His mind raced, weighing the consequences of every possible action. Finally, he nodded. "Then give us time. Let us discuss this as a village. If you push too hard, you'll only make things worse."

Elethia hesitated, then inclined her head. "Very well," she said. "But not too long. The world will not wait."

---

1st POV (Thalrik)

The moment the Order left the square, I felt the weight of the day settle onto my shoulders. I turned to Vesimir and Gram, their expressions mirroring the frustration I felt.

"We're on borrowed time," I said, my voice low. "And I don't think we can trust the Order to keep waiting."

"What do we do?" Gram asked, his tone unusually subdued.

"We hold the line," I said firmly. "No matter what."

But even as I said it, doubt gnawed at me. Could we really protect the boy from the Order? From the Harbingers? From the fear that was tearing us apart from the inside?

---

3rd POV: Rurik's Reckoning

Rurik sat alone in his small home, his head in his hands. The adrenaline that had fueled his defiance earlier was gone, replaced by a gnawing sense of dread. He could still feel the weight of Teryn Vestra's gaze, the cold fury in her eyes as she'd ordered him to drop his weapon.

He knew he had crossed a line. But what choice did he have? The boy was a threat—one that would bring ruin to everything they had built.

A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He hesitated before answering, his hand resting on the pistol he had retrieved earlier. When he opened the door, he found himself face-to-face with Vesimir.

"Chief wants to see you," Vesimir said, his tone clipped.

Rurik stiffened. "What for?"

"You fired a weapon in the middle of the square," Vesimir said, his emerald eyes cold. "What do you think?"

Rurik hesitated, his fingers tightening around the doorframe. "Fine," he said finally. "Lead the way."

As Vesimir led him to the council hall, Rurik couldn't shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

---

1st POV (Elethia Luxora)

Back at the camp, I sat in quiet contemplation, my mind racing with the day's events. The boy's light was undeniable, but so were the fractures it had caused within the village—and within my own warriors.

Teryn stood nearby, her armor still streaked with dirt and blood from the battle with the Harbingers. She watched me with a mixture of loyalty and unease, her silence heavier than her words could ever be.

"You disagree with me," I said finally, not looking at her.

She hesitated before responding. "I think we're wasting time," she said bluntly. "The longer we wait, the stronger their resolve becomes. The villagers are already turning on each other. It won't be long before they turn on us."

"And if we force their hand?" I asked, my tone sharp. "Do you think that will make them more likely to give us what we want? Or will it drive them further into defiance?"

Teryn didn't answer, her jaw tightening as she looked away. I sighed, my own frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"This isn't just about the boy," I said. "It's about the light. The Savior's purpose is greater than this village, greater than any of us. But we cannot fulfill that purpose through brute force. Not here."

Teryn nodded reluctantly. "I'll follow your orders," she said. "But I hope you're right."

---

3rd POV: A Fragile Decision

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village in a warm golden glow, the council gathered in the hall. Thalrik sat at the head of the table, flanked by the elders and a handful of trusted warriors. Rurik stood before them, his expression a mix of defiance and regret.

"You endangered the village," Thalrik said, his voice cold. "Your actions could have sparked a war we're not prepared to fight."

"And what are you doing to prepare us?" Rurik shot back. "Because all I see is you stalling while the Order tightens their grip."

Thalrik's jaw tightened. "You don't have to agree with me, Rurik," he said. "But you will respect the decisions of this council. And you will not undermine our efforts with reckless behavior."

Rurik's defiance faltered, and he looked away. "What now, then?" he muttered.

Thalrik exchanged a glance with the other elders before responding. "You're confined to the village. No weapons, no patrols. Consider it a warning. Next time, there won't be one."

Rurik nodded stiffly, his fists clenched at his sides. "Understood."

As Rurik left the hall, the council sat in uneasy silence. The decision had been made, but the fractures in their community had only deepened. And as the night fell over Arkaneth, it became clear that the real battle was yet to come.

3rd POV: The Weight of Silence

The quiet of the night was deceptive, a fragile calm that veiled the tension simmering just beneath the surface. The village of Arkaneth, nestled against the edge of the Great Forest, seemed almost peaceful in the moonlight. But for those awake, for those burdened by the events of the day, sleep was a distant luxury.

Thalrik stood atop the wooden walls, gazing out over the plains beyond. His spear rested against the railing, though his grip on it remained firm. The glow of the Order's campfires flickered in the distance, their golden light casting faint shadows on the horizon.

Behind him, Vesimir approached, his footsteps quiet but purposeful. "Still no movement from the Order," Vesimir said, his voice low. "They're waiting."

"So are we," Thalrik replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"And the villagers?" Vesimir asked.

Thalrik sighed. "They're scared. Rurik's stunt didn't help, but for now, they'll stay quiet. I just don't know how long that will last."

"Do you trust them?" Vesimir asked, his tone cautious.

Thalrik hesitated, his fingers tightening around the spear. "I want to," he said finally. "But fear makes people unpredictable. And desperate."

Vesimir nodded, his expression grim. "What about the boy? What do we do if the Order forces our hand?"

Thalrik didn't answer immediately. He turned to look at the village below, at the homes of the people he had sworn to protect. "We fight," he said at last. "If it comes to that, we fight."

---

1st POV (The Boy)

The house was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dying fire. I sat in the corner, the wooden bird Serenya had given me cradled in my hands. Its simple form brought me comfort, a reminder of the innocence I was slowly beginning to understand.

Valaith sat nearby, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but never straying far from me. Serenya had fallen asleep in her lap, her small hands clutching a blanket. I could feel their love, their worry, their determination to keep me safe. It was a warmth I hadn't realized I needed.

But beyond the walls of this home, I felt something else. The tension in the village, the fear that gripped its people. The doubt and frustration that brewed in the hearts of the warriors camped outside. It was like a storm, pressing against the edges of my mind, threatening to break through.

I didn't understand it fully, but I knew it was because of me. I had brought this to them. The fear, the conflict—it all stemmed from my presence.

I looked up at Valaith, her face softened by the glow of the firelight. "I'm sorry," I said softly, the words strange on my tongue.

Her gaze snapped to me, her eyes widening. "What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, my voice trembling. "For the danger. For the fear. I didn't mean to..."

She crossed the room in an instant, kneeling in front of me and taking my hands in hers. "Oh, sweet boy," she said, her voice breaking. "None of this is your fault. Do you hear me? None of it."

Her warmth enveloped me, and for a moment, the storm outside seemed to fade. But deep down, I knew it wouldn't last. The world wouldn't let it.

---

3rd POV: The Order's Resolve

In the camp of the Order of Burning Light, Elethia Luxora stood before the Solar Concord, its golden light illuminating her sharp features. Her hands were clasped tightly in prayer, her voice a soft murmur as she sought guidance.

Behind her, Teryn Vestra waited silently, her armored form a stark silhouette against the glow of the relic. When Elethia finally turned, her amber eyes burned with conviction.

"We cannot wait much longer," Elethia said, her voice steady but edged with urgency. "The villagers' fear is growing, and fear breeds chaos. If we do not act, this fragile balance will collapse."

Teryn's expression was unreadable, her dark eyes focused on Elethia. "And what would you have us do?" she asked. "Force our way in? Take the boy by force?"

"If necessary," Elethia said, her tone firm. "But only as a last resort. I will not turn the Savior's arrival into a massacre."

Teryn nodded, though her posture remained tense. "And if they fight us?"

"Then we show them the light," Elethia said simply. "And we pray that it is enough."

---

1st POV (Thalrik)

The night stretched on, and still I stood at the walls. The cold bit at my skin, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were a storm of doubts and decisions, each one heavier than the last.

I thought of the boy, of the light he carried and the danger it brought. I thought of the Order, their golden banners a constant reminder of the power they wielded. I thought of my people, of the fear in their eyes and the strength in their hearts.

And I thought of the future. Of what would happen if I failed.

A sound behind me pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Valaith, her face pale in the moonlight. She held a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, but her eyes were sharp, her worry evident.

"You should be resting," I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

"So should you," she countered, stepping closer. "But here we are."

I offered her a faint smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. "I can't stop thinking," I admitted. "About the boy. About the Order. About all of it."

She placed a hand on my arm, her touch grounding me. "We'll figure it out," she said softly. "We always do."

Her words were a comfort, but they didn't erase the weight on my shoulders. The storm was coming. And I wasn't sure if we were ready.

---

3rd POV: The Calm Before the Storm

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, the village of Arkaneth stood in uneasy silence. The villagers stirred in their homes, their hearts heavy with the knowledge that the peace they had fought for was slipping away.

In the Orenda home, the boy sat quietly, his golden eyes gazing out the window. The faint glow of his wings illuminated the room, a soft reminder of the power he carried. Valaith and Serenya slept nearby, their breaths even and steady.

Outside, the warriors of the Order prepared themselves, their golden armor gleaming in the morning light. Elethia and Teryn stood at the edge of their camp, their expressions hard as they watched the village.

And atop the walls, Thalrik stood alone, his spear in hand and his gaze fixed on the horizon. The storm was coming. And when it arrived, nothing would ever be the same.

PS. There will be a constant POV change until chapter 11, I mean what can a baby do?