The Storm Tower | Vol.4, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

30.

Sebastian never had the luxury to get ready for a battle. Not a real one, anyway.

Usually, people were either chasing or ambushing him. Not this time. This time, things were different. He was doing the blindsiding this time. For the first time since he defected from the Shades, he'd be going on the offensive. From the time he left the War Room until the sun rose in the morning, he'd been preparing. Only two of those tireless hours were spent sleeping. The rest entailed studying new spells, strengthening old ones, refreshing his memory on Castle Braexus' layout, and acquiring a full set of armor.

The trip to the armory in the dead of the night had been an interesting one. As a former Shade, he'd never worn armor before. His attire consisted of his regular clothes or the dark robes his housemates wore. Never armor. It was too heavy and loud—the opposite of what a Shade was meant to be. Each house had a specific type of armor for their combat magicians; he recalled House Aegeon's silver and blue chainmail, the animal-inspired outfits of House Oseda's soldiers, and the Viking armor of House Brynjir's battlemages. House Tenebris had no such thing.

So, he'd been forced to make his own.

He stared down at the chest plate sitting on the table in his dark room. He'd hand-painted it black, as the armory possessed no such color. Ink and paint stained his palms; no amount of scrubbing seemed to get rid of it. Magic had its perks, but the ability to create nearly permanent paint was not one of them. The straps of the chest were a deep purple, aligning with the other color of his house.

While he might've been a traitor, House Tenebris would always be a part of him. Despite what other magicians thought, his house didn't have to be synonymous with evil. There were good, decent people within its ranks. The tyranny of their leader, however, prevented them from stepping up. Cowardice, while pathetic, wasn't exactly a punishable offense. Once this war was over, he'd do whatever he could to repair the damage the Order had done to their house's name.

Today was the first step to righting his father's wrongs. If everything went to plan, the Order would fall. Things would go back to normal. He took a deep breath.

A sleek, lightweight helmet stared back at him from the other end of the table. It'd been painted black, purple, and gold. The face hole was shaped like a 'T' with openings for his eyes, nose, and a bit of his mouth. He lifted it and examined the dark iron, which he decorated with protection runes and charms.

Despite its look, it weighed more than he anticipated. Or perhaps it was all in his head.

He once donned the face of a raven when he was a Shade. That felt like an eternity ago. Now, he was about to face the very people who raised him. He was about to assault the place he once called home. He thought of his sister. He thought of Emile. Part of him wished they could've been freed from his father's death grip. But they made their choice and continued to make it the longer this went on. Still, he couldn't help but wonder

He shook his head.

The only thing that mattered right now was making sure everything went to plan.

And that meant getting to the portal gate on time. The sun had begun to rise outside his curtained window. Nodding to himself, he peered at the face of his helmet once more. He spotted his pale, warped reflection in the metal. Some days he barely recognized himself.

But today he knew exactly who he was looking at.

Nodding, he placed the helmet on his head, equipped the rest of his armor, and left to join the others at the palace's portal gate.

#

"Are you sure you want to come, Rem?" Ajax asked while tucking a hatchet in between the bottom strap of his chest plate. "I mean, it's going to get bloody."