Randel galloped forward without looking back.
The detachment stretched out through the forest—dozens of knights clad in Aichenwald steel, swords at the ready. The woods greeted them with silence. Far too much silence.
“My lord,” Erhard drew level with him. “There’s someone here. I can feel it.”
“So can I,” Randel didn’t slow his pace. “But they’re not enemies. She’s here.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” Randel spurred his horse harder. “Like the first time.”
He remembered it clearly. The forest. The assassins. She had emerged from the darkness in golden armor and saved him. Alone. No helpers. Just her and her magic.
“Randel!” A woman’s voice tore through the silence.
He reined in his horse. From behind the trees rode Roxana—his sister—in a traveling dress, sword at her belt, accompanied by a dozen nobles and generals.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“The same as you,” she smirked. “Going to meet the Keeper.”
“How do you know?”
“A letter,” she pulled a parchment from her bosom. “She wrote to me too. Said she would be here. And that she needs help.”
Randel clenched his teeth. She hadn’t written only to him. Not only to Cassius. But to Roxana as well. And perhaps to others.
“Are you angry?” Roxana asked.
“I am,” he admitted. “But not at you.”
“At her?”
“At myself,” he shook his head. “For believing. For doubting. For…”
He didn’t finish.
From behind came the sound of hooves. Many hooves.
Randel turned.
Riders in black armor were emerging from the forest—imperial knights. In the center, on a white horse, sat him.
Cassius.
His golden hair fluttered in the wind. Red eyes looked at Randel with calm amusement.
“Prince? Or should I call you duke?” the emperor said, reining in his horse. “It’s been a while.”
“Not long enough,” Randel placed his hand on his sword.
Cassius smirked.
“Still holding a grudge over that assassin business?”
“I still remember,” Randel didn’t look away. “You ordered my death. The Keeper saved me. And I haven’t forgotten. What’s stopping me from cutting your throat right now, you jackal?”
“That was politics,” Cassius shrugged. “Now we have a common enemy. No time for old grudges.”
“What enemy?”
“The Darkness,” Cassius glanced at the forest. “The Keeper’s letter explained everything. A fissure beneath the earth. Creatures tearing their way out. And that we must unite.”
“And you believed her?”
“I verified it,” Cassius nodded. “My mages confirmed it. There really is something under the ground. Something ancient and dangerous.”
Randel fell silent.
Roxana rode up closer to him.
“Brother,” she said quietly. “Not now. You can settle this later. First we need to find her.”
He nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “First we find her. And then… then we’ll talk. Properly!”
Cassius smirked but said nothing.
They moved on — three detachments, three leaders. Randel at the front, Cassius on the right, Roxana on the left. The generals and nobles brought up the rear.
The forest grew denser. The path had already disappeared — they rode across moss, over roots, through fallen leaves.
“My lord,” Erhard rode up to Randel. “There’s someone there.”
Randel raised his hand. The detachment froze.
From behind the trees, two figures emerged silently, like ghosts.
They wore black armor — unlike anything from the knights of Aichenwald or the Empire. These suits were sleek, utterly flawless, without a single scratch, with glowing red lenses on their helmets. Crimson cloaks billowed behind their backs, even though there was no wind.
Swords hung at their waists. Unusual swords. Black as the night itself. Their blades did not reflect light — they devoured it, leaving only a faint, dark shimmer around the edges.
Cassius, who had seen dozens of legendary blades in his lifetime, couldn’t help but stare. Instead of asking who they were, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“What kind of weapon is that?” he asked.
“None of your concern, mortal,” the taller one replied.
His voice was young, yet cold, laced with a light mockery that cut like a blade. It carried the calm confidence of a being who had witnessed the birth and fall of empires.
Cassius narrowed his eyes.
“Mortal?” he repeated. “So you’re immortal, then?”
“I have served the Keeper for a thousand years,” the tall figure said, crossing his arms over his chest. “To me, you are all mortals. Emperors. Princes. Even those who think themselves chosen. I can say whatever I please.”
“A thousand years?” Roxana smirked. “Your voice sounds much younger.”
“The armor,” the tall one answered curtly. “This alloy. It preserves the body exactly as it was the moment it was donned. I put these on when I was twenty. And I will remain twenty until the world itself crumbles.”
Randel studied the speaker carefully. There was no falsehood in his voice — only calm, icy certainty.
“Who are you?” Randel asked.
“I am Leo,” the tall one said, tilting his head slightly. “A Warden. And this is Torglin. Also a Warden.”
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The shorter, stockier figure stepped forward. He had two daggers at his belt and the same jet-black sword hanging at his side.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. His voice was older, calmer, yet it still carried a sharp edge of steel. “The Keeper is expecting you. But before we take you to her…” He paused. “We must make sure you are worthy.”
“Worthy?” Roxana raised an eyebrow.
“Worthy of seeing her. Worthy of speaking with her. Worthy of standing at her side.”
“And how exactly do you plan to check that?” Cassius asked.
Leo turned his gaze on him. The glowing red lenses stared straight into Cassius’s crimson eyes.
“I can see your soul, Emperor,” he said. “It’s black. You’ve killed innocents. You’ve betrayed allies. You ordered the murder of that prince. And you think the Keeper doesn’t know?”
Cassius paled, but he didn’t back down.
“The past is the past,” he replied. “I’m here to help.”
“Help?” Leo gave a cold smirk. “Or to steal her power? Or turn her into your puppet? Or…”
“Leo,” Torglin placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Enough.”
“I’m only telling the truth,” Leo said, his tone unchanged. “Mortals always want the same things. Power. Wealth. Immortality. To you, the Keeper isn’t a person — she’s just a tool.”
“And you?” Randel asked. “What are you to her?”
“I am her sword,” Leo replied, resting his hand on the black blade. “Her shield. And her shadow. I go where she commands. I do what she orders. I live to serve. That is something no mortal could ever understand.”
Randel stared at him. There was something familiar about this young man. The arrogance. The absolute confidence. And a faint trace of falseness — as if he were playing a role he had rehearsed to perfection.
“You’re not an old man,” Randel said. “But you’re not really a youth either. Who are you, truly?”
Leo froze. The red lenses fixed on Randel.
“I am someone who has watched emperors rise and fall,” he replied. “Who has seen empires crumble and heroes die. And you know what?” He tilted his head. “They were all the same. Proud. Arrogant. And in the end, every last one of them died. So don’t get cocky, dog!”
“You didn’t answer the question,” Cassius said.
“I did,” Leo shook his head. “You just didn’t hear it. Mortals never do. You’re too busy listening to yourselves.”
Torglin cleared his throat.
“Let’s go,” the dwarf said. “The Keeper is waiting. Arguing with the Wardens is pointless. We have seen far more than you can even imagine.”
“And if we refuse to follow?” one of the generals asked.
“Then you will never find her,” Leo smirked. “The palace is hidden by magic. It reveals itself only to those she summons. And she has summoned you. That means you are needed. Don’t let it go to your heads.”
He turned and began walking deeper into the forest.
“Come,” he said. “She is waiting.”
Randel glanced at Cassius. The emperor simply shrugged.
“We’ll have to trust them,” Cassius said.
“As always,” Randel smirked.
They followed the Wardens into the woods.
They walked for about an hour.
The forest finally parted, revealing yet more forest—an ordinary one, thick with moss and crowned by a massive oak tree at the top of the rise.
“Here,” Torglin said, coming to a stop.
“Where?” Randel asked.
“Underground,” Leo replied. He stepped up to the oak’s roots and pressed a hidden lever that Torglin had crafted earlier for dramatic effect while they were still hours away.
The ground trembled. The thick roots slowly parted, revealing a narrow passage descending into darkness.
“Let’s go,” Torglin said, taking a torch.
They descended.
Randel went first, followed by Roxana, Cassius, the generals, and the nobles. Leo brought up the rear.
The descent was long. The cave walls were unnaturally smooth and even, as if carved from a single piece of stone. The air smelled of ozone and ancient dust.
“What is this place?” Roxana asked.
“The Palace of the Keepers,” Torglin answered. “This is where those who protected the world before her once lived.”
“Those who sealed the Darkness,” Leo added. “Though now the palace lies in ruins.”
Cassius frowned but said nothing.
The tunnel eventually ended, opening into a vast hall.
Columns soared upward, vanishing into shadow. The floor was covered in intricate mosaics depicting the sun, the moon, the stars, and strange creatures no one recognized. Along the walls burned torches—smokeless, flameless, emitting only a cold blue light.
“Incredible,” one of the generals whispered.
“This… this is ancient magic,” said one of Cassius’s mages. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“Where is she?” Randel asked.
“Over there,” Leo pointed deeper into the hall.
They continued forward.
They stepped into the throne room, and everyone froze.
She was sitting behind a long table of black stone.
Golden armor gleamed in the light of blue torches — not the black armor of the Reaper in which she had hidden for so many months, but the true armor of the Keeper. Ancient. Legendary. Golden. The armor in which she had burned the khan’s army. The armor in which she had saved Randel in the forest. Heh, I won’t forget my own plot!
On her head rested a golden helmet with no eye slits. Only faint vents for breathing. No one could see her face. No one could read her thoughts.
She sat perfectly still, elbows resting on the table, fingers interlaced in front of her. The posture of a weary warrior who had waited far too long.
When they entered, she slowly rose to her feet.
Her movements were smooth yet heavy — like those of someone who had spent not hours, but months, years, centuries in this hall.
“You came,” she said.
The voice emerged from the helmet — metallic, distant, like an echo in the mountains. But Randel recognized it. He would have known it among a thousand voices.
“You called,” he replied, taking a step forward.
His heart hammered somewhere in his throat. A whole year. For a year he had searched for her. For a year he had imagined her in the steppe, wearing black armor, sword in hand. And all this time she had been here. Underground. Alone. Holding back the Darkness while he...
He took a second step. Then a third.
“Amanda...” he whispered.
And lunged forward.
He never saw Leo move. No one did.
The Warden stood far away — near the entrance, behind the backs of the generals and nobles. But the moment Randel took his fourth step, Leo was already in front of him.
A hand in a black gauntlet slammed into the prince’s chest, stopping him dead.
“Where do you think you’re going, mortal?” Leo’s voice was cold and mocking. “You don’t just rush at the Keeper like that. Know your fucking place!”
Randel tried to push the hand away. He couldn’t. The Warden stood like an immovable rock.
“Let me go,” Randel’s voice was quiet, but it burned with fury.
“Let you go?” Leo tilted his head. The red lenses looked down at the prince from above. “I’ve watched kings come and go. I’ve seen them crawl on their knees before the Keeper, begging for her help. I’ve seen them die at her feet without even earning a glance. And you… who the hell are you? A child who’s only just learning how to hold a sword?”
“I’m the one who loves her,” Randel said, refusing to back down.
“Loves her?” Leo let out a cold laugh. “Do you know how many have come saying the same? With vows, with promises, with fire in their eyes? And then they left. They married others. They forgot. They betrayed. And only the Keeper remained. Alone. Always alone.”
“Leo,” Torglin’s voice came from behind. “Enough.”
“I’m only telling the truth,” Leo didn’t lower his tone. “Let him know. Let him remember. The Keeper is not a toy. Her heart belongs to no one. Especially not to mortals who live less than I sleep.”
Randel stared into the red lenses. There was nothing in them — only the reflection of his own rage.
“Let me go,” he repeated.
Leo didn’t move.
Cassius watched the scene with a faint smile. He found it interesting. This Warden truly seemed like an ancient being. No falseness in his voice. No hesitation. Only the icy mockery of a creature that had seen too much to respect kings.
“Amanda…” Randel’s voice cracked. “Tell him…”
“Leo,” the Keeper’s voice rang through the hall. “Let him pass.”
Leo froze. The red lenses lingered on Randel for one more second. Then the hand withdrew.
“As you command, my lady,” the Warden said, stepping back. He bowed and took his place behind her. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood in the stance of a warrior ready for battle. The red lenses continued to burn — now watching everyone who approached the Keeper.
Randel stepped forward.
He didn’t run. He didn’t hurry. Each step was heavy, like a man climbing toward Golgotha.
He stopped in front of her. He reached out and touched her helmet.
The gold was cold. Smooth. Lifeless.
“You’re here,” he whispered.
“I’m here,” she replied. Her voice from within the helmet sounded distant, yet he heard what others could not: exhaustion, pain, and a flicker of hope.
“I searched for you.”
“I know.”
“I thought you were in the steppe. In black armor. Among the beastmen.”
“I was here,” she tilted her head slightly. “All this time. Underground. Holding back the Darkness.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You wouldn’t have understood. Or perhaps you would have. And you would have come anyway. And died. I couldn’t allow that.”
Randel clenched his fist.
“You always decide for me,” he said. “Always.”
“It’s my duty,” she said softly. “To protect.”
“And who will protect you?”
She didn’t answer.
Roxana cleared her throat.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” she said, “but we’re not here to watch my brother confess his love. We have more important matters to discuss.”
Amanda nodded.
“Please, sit,” she gestured toward the table. “We need to talk.”
Everyone took their seats.
Randel sat to the Keeper’s right. Roxana settled beside him. The generals and nobles took places further down the table.
Cassius didn’t hurry. He approached Amanda last.
“Keeper,” he said, bowing slightly. “We have not met in person. I am Cassius, Emperor.”
“I know who you are,” Amanda’s voice was calm.
“It is an honor to finally meet you,” he took her hand. It was sheathed in a golden gauntlet, but that didn’t stop the emperor. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I have heard much about you. The legends do not do your beauty justice.”
Randel watched the scene. His eyes were dead. Empty. Nothing but the white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table.
Roxana noticed. She placed her hand over his.
“Brother,” she whispered. “Not now.”
Randel didn’t reply. He simply stared.
Cassius released Amanda’s hand and sat down opposite them, smiling.