Who knew one terrible mistake could trigger a war so quickly. It hadn't even been a few months, and news of the Kinsmen of the Dark gaining grounds constantly reached their ears. Every able body was requested by the Council of Thirds to join the fro...
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Important A/N at the end of the chapter in regards to the future of Warfire
"Today we stand in the darkest hour of Norvea's history."
Fai stood at the front of the platform in the Great Hall; General Byteron to his right, the teachers behind him, and the rest of the hall in front of him. The risers at the sides were filled with parents, council members, and other army officials, and at the center of it all stood four lines of young faces, each one donning an incomplete soldier's uniform. Below him was the table where the last of their uniforms were neatly folded: Black cloaks with the Dragonmage insignia sewn proudly onto them, and their ranks sitting just below it. The whole occasion left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"As the Kinsmen of the Dark grow stronger, our forces of light grow weaker. The front grows thin as their corrupt magic seeps its way up from its origin and into the lands around it. Sa'aremak, Mahta, Kobar, and Dijik have already fallen victim to their uprising; Hecatite and Laurow not far behind." Fai paused, taking a breath. "In order to hold the line, we must do the unthinkable: To send our children to war." He directed his next words to the students before him. "Forgive us. We are not strong enough to protect you."
Nagan felt sick by those words. No one had anything to apologize for; this was his doing. If he could turn back time, return to the naive child he once was who was lured away by false hope, then perhaps all this could have been delayed. Delayed enough for them to prepare. He was a Time Mage, a rare talent none fully understood, yet even he didn't have enough power to do more than stop it for a few seconds at a time.
"Despite it all, here you stand, ready to join the ranks. You are the ones who answered our call for help."
Not everyone, Nagan thought. They were finally able to see Milora instead of drilling Az on her condition. Only those with medical experience were allowed in for the first few days, constantly monitoring her condition. She looked exhausted when Gath, Carthadeus, Az, and himself entered, but she was happy to see them nonetheless. She promised she'd join them as soon as her broken leg was healed, but Nagan assured her to take her time. One less person he cared for to be in danger.
"Your skills evaluated, your spirits tested, and your endurance pushed to the limits. You were all hand-chosen by the council and have successfully reached the end of your training, honing your skills for the days to come."
Master Honoria sat closest to the front, as did many other council members. Nagan remembered seeing them and he marched in with the rest, watching them with their proud faces and self-important smiles. Did they even know what they were being sent to do? Have they ever seen what laid beyond the safety of their mansions? He could see how Master Honoria could send off another to war, but his own child?
"There is not much we can teach you beyond this. You only have yourselves to rely on, as well as your teammates. Remember to take care of each other; watch the back of those who watch yours."
