💎A Collision of Fates💎 (Straight to Gay) (MxM) (18+)

99 - Breck and Nick

A gentle wind blew through the sun forest, rustling the bright-green leaves of the trees. The gust slammed into the western wall of Sesstria, rising, flowing, falling over the top of the battlements and into the city itself.

It was pushing Nick's hair back, and causing his eyes to sting. But he couldn't close them, he wouldn't close them. He needed to stare down the army below them, eyes wide open, back straight, mouth flat. There would be no trembling and no fear. He wouldn't let them see him shake.

The Golden Spire had come to Sesstria, and fear was an emotion that he couldn't afford to feel, not if he wanted to save The Goddess, not if he wanted to protect his son, and not if he wanted to have a future with the man that he loved.

Breck was still as a statue beside him, hulking and impressive. His muscles bulged out of his yevan uniform, glistening in the sun. He looked intimidating, but his hand was firmly wrapped around Nick's, warm, comforting.

Sesstria's western wall was full of men, of defenders. From where Nick was standing, near the edge of the wall, close to the palace, he could see them stretch all the way down the battlements, a sea of black uniforms and dour faces.

Below them, between the bottom of the western wall and the beginning of the sun forest, the cult was coming to a stop. Nick didn't know how far they had marched, but he could see the exhaustion in some of their slow, clumsy gaits.

Their sea of black, their sea of defenders, was facing down a sea of red, a sea of death and destruction.

Nick would never forget Henrov's words. They ran through his mind as he stared down at the cult.

We're facing death itself, the very essence of chaos.

At the time, Nick had assumed that the older defender was being dramatic. Nick had seen the cult at work many times, during their journey to the coastal cave, and during the siege of Boletara. But now, standing on the battlements of Sesstria as a hoard of red-cloaked maniacs approached, he couldn't help but conclude that Henrov had been right.

They were facing death itself, the very essence of chaos.

Hralls cawed softly into the sky as they fluttered into the nearby trees of the sun forest, resting in the canopies, heads poking out of the top. Towards the base of the trees, some cultists called out commands to them, as if they were their pets. Nick shivered.

Razors prowled around the edges of the forest, never crossing the treeline, never exposing themselves completely. They skulked under the foliage, but they were visible all the same, sharp claws raking into the mud, predatory eyes glued on their future prey above them.

Finally, through the forest, hulking, tentacled, black beasts slid over the litter. They were disgusting animals, their intelligent, wet, yellow eyes shifting around.

Staring down at all of it, at the endless mess of people that had come to kill them, Nick was grateful that they had managed to lock the city down. They wouldn't end up like Boletara, not if the defenders could help it.

The army below seemed to settle in place. They had finished their march. A tension thrummed through the air, grim and deadly. Nick glanced from side to side, waiting for one of the cultists to give the signal, waiting for them to attack. Where would it come from? When would it start? Nick fingered the hilt of his sword, anxious hands picking at the top.

But there was no signal, no attack. Instead, there was a voice, loud, clear, articulate. "King Esteck La'Torrie." It cut through the windy silence, descending upon the gathered crowd like tar. Suddenly, the tension changed into something viscous and thick, oozing violent anticipation.