Just as suddenly as it had started, the battle had ended. Though short, it had been vicious and the cost was high. They had seen the battle coming from afar, and losses had been expected, but nobody expected anything to this extent. The blacksmith was missing, severely undermining the guild’s defenses. The assassins were missing, but who could really trust an assassin’s loyalty in the first place? Many others were also missing. The guild’s leader, their mightiest warrior, was left with damaged eyesight. The evil lord Trion had managed to secure an alliance with the sirens, that feat itself remarkable as the sirens were notoriously xenophobic and reclusive. In league with the sirens, Trion lured many of the Covenant away from the safety of their Gorowyn guild hall and enslaved them. Members of the Covenant tried desperately to break the beguiling spell Trion’s sirens held over their friends, but it was all for naught. One by one, they disappeared within the Rift, lord Trion’s newest and mightiest fortress. “Where is Master Tinie in these dark times?” Nyxlia enquired angrily as the stress and realization of their losses weighed upon her like a boulder. “He should be here to ensure Trion cannot capture more of us!” “He is recovering in the hospice,” Zhaa, the guild’s second-in-command, told her. “Regardless, he can barely see well enough to vanquish anyone or direct a campaign should they try again.” Master Tinie had bravely charged into Trion’s Rift and fought with his minions. He survived, but returned to Gorowyn alone. Though he was not injured, Master Tinie has endured the full onslaught of Trion’s powerful magics, and it left him with a clouded vision that even the most powerful Covenant healers, Zhaa among them, could not restore. “Then what shall we do?” Aaryk asked. He was a young officer, newly promoted in the wake of their losses. “We will do what we have always done,” Zhaa told him. “We are not finished unless we give up hope. If we appear weak, it will undermine the morale of our companions and it will be harder for them to resist another assault.” The group sat silently as they pondered the situation. They were still reeling from the pain of lost friends, but Zhaa was right. They had to appear strong, and continue to serve with strength. “There are already whispers of the end amongst our ranks,” Atrayo, the guild’s highest-ranking healer, informed them. “We will replace the whispers with loud rejoicing!” Zhaa declared. “Let us go out to every city and hold festivals. We will celebrate with the commoners, give to the poor, assist the weak, and arm the defenseless.” “Have you gone mad?” Aaryk asked. “Perhaps,” Zhaa replied with a sly grin. “Perhaps not. We will see what the future holds on the morrow, but we will not consign our destiny to the fates. We must fight to maintain our hope, for all is lost without it.” “Hear, hear!” Atrayo cheerfully responded. “What do you propose?” Nyxlia asked, excitement on her face. Zhaa sent word for others of their guild to join them in the war room, where they drew up plans for the coming days. Trion had won a battle, but the war was not over and the Covenant of the Phoenix would not surrender. No, they would never surrender. To be continued…

