Spirit Animals: The Third Devourer War

The Nightcloak King

Barlow stood in the centre of the room, staring in shock at the former Greencloak. All of the memories of this man that he had met came rushing back to him. The Four Heroes, the battle with Arax, Zerif...

He took a step forward, studying him closer. His appearance had changed a lot. He still had his brown eye, except the other was yellow and serpent-like, reminding Barlow of Gerathon. Black veiny marks lined under his yellow eye, running down his neck and under his clothes. He couldn't imagine the scars he had underneath, he heard that this man's death was terrible. Even his skin looked as grey as slate. A black crown with red rubies encrusted into it sat neatly on top of his head, and a black cloak draped behind him.

"Tellun's antlers!" Barlow cried out. "You look terrible."

"Thanks?" the man stepped forward, sounding surprised. "You don't look so great yourself."

Barlow was surprised that the King had embraced him, but he was more shocked about the fact that this King was Tarik himself. He never expected to see him like this, in such a position that he'd be known by all of Erdas.

"It has been too long, my friend. Please take a seat," Tarik motioned with his hand towards a chair. Except there was no chair.

The air where Tarik's hand was had warped and rippled into something that Barlow couldn't quite make out. He watched it for a moment, and then a table as long as the room appeared, chairs with it.

Barlow stared at Tarik. "I must be dreaming."

Tarik shook his head and smiled slightly. "I'm afraid you are not."

Barlow looked around and realised that they were alone. Even the creepy horse was gone. "Where did everyone go?"

Tarik did not answer. Instead, he stared out at nothing. His eyes were wide and Barlow couldn't quite tell what his friend was thinking. Then the man blinked and shook his head. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Barlow watched Tarik make his way to his large black throne which was at the end of the table. "Umm, no... not at all," he made his way over to the chair closest to Tarik.

"Do you know why we are here, Barlow?" Tarik asked, his eyes narrowing at him.

"I wish I knew," Barlow admitted, struggling to keep eye contact.

Tarik was silent for a moment and then looked away. "I wish I knew too."

Barlow frowned at him. "You don't know?"

"Do you think anyone here knows? If they did, it would be because I would have told them. If I don't know, they don't know." Tarik sounded a little frustrated at him, and Barlow couldn't figure out why.

Barlow remembered coming to Nighthaven and meeting two soldiers. They too, had no idea why they were here. Barlow silently kicked himself for being so stupid.

"King Tarik?" a voice called from the door as it opened. A man with long blonde hair tied back into a bun appeared.

"Yes, Dorian?" answered Tarik.

The man named Dorian approached Tarik with a letter in his hand. A horned owl was perched on his shoulder. "A letter, from what looks like the Lightcloaks."

Barlow noticed Tarik's face light up. "Thank you."

When Dorian had handed over the letter and left, Tarik couldn't resist opening it.

"Who are the Lightcloaks?" Barlow asked.

"They are Greencloaks from the first Devourer War," answered Tarik as he opened up the letter.