"Through rough utter through middle darkness home.

With other notes than to th'Orphean lyre

I sung of Chaos and Eternal Light."

- John Milton, " At a Solemn Music"

*****

Soundtrack of the chapter: Claim Your Weapons by Christian Reindl ( DO PLAY IT!)

Media: Army of the Dead

*****

Chapter Thirty-Three: Claim Your Weapons

The tension around the Hall of Spirits was suffocating. It was as if Yana himself had closed an ominous hand around the Hall, strangling the life and air out of every Oracle within. The dark clouds hung downcast, flinging a large shadow over the lands. Eli could see the shadows of his beloved Hall curling around the trees of the Darkling Woods, something which did nothing to take away the ill feeling crushing his chest.

Someone knocked on the door of his office. He swung around, knowing that it was the head Feorh--Eka.

"Is everyone assembled and given a dose of the Blood flower potion?" he asked, resting his head on his hand. The Feorh nodded. "As directed, Your Honor. Every Oracle has now gathered in the main hall and administered with a single pill."

"Was it enough?" He feared for the answer. There were a little over five hundred Oracles in the Hall right now, mostly students. The rest were either living in the Celestial Towns over the hill or at the Hall of Warriors for their training. But with only a bundle of Blood flowers available, he couldn't produce a vast sum of the potion. He had rationed it into pill form. It should be enough to hold off the Mandrake poison until help arrived, or when he could pinpoint the location of the deadly roots.

The large panda Feorh gazed at Eli with mournful eyes. "Nearly. A few already passed out. There is only so much we can do to ease their pain."

Eli massaged his temples, trying to knead some reassurance into himself. "How much is nearly?"

It exhaled. "A hundred, probably more."

"Then we have less than four hundred left," he muttered. "Less than four hundred to defend ourselves if Jasper really calls up an army. Eka, hear my order. Take every fit Oracle down the armory and give them weapons. Round up the Oracles in the oldest batch of students and send them here. Send more Feorhs down the infirmary, the sick must be looked after at all times."

Eka bowed low. "At once, Your Honor."

"Eka." Eli stopped the Feorh. "What about my grandfather?"

The Feorh's black eyes glittered, as if it was sympathetic. Eli almost growled. He hated it when others did that, it made him feel belittled. "His condition is unchanged. He remains in shock, unmoving and not talking."

"See that he was well monitored. When he recovers his senses, I must be notified immediately."

His last word hung on the Feorh like a menacing threat. It bowed and exited, so fast it was a blur.

Eli started out at the open skies, eyeing the pinkish hue wrapped around the clouds, lazily. It had been a sleepless night, trying to organize everything within the Hall. It was indeed dark tidings. There was a constant voice in his head, whining, reminding him of the potential dangers that his Hall would soon face. He never envisioned himself being in this position. Yes, sometimes he would see the heavy crown on his head, smiling to his subjects who would, in return, cheer. But never a war.

The doors creaked open, hundreds of Oracles streamed in, as well as every warrior Feorhs. Some had determination blazing in their eyes, as if they were wary of the situation. Most were tired, rubbing their sore eyes and stretching their stiff necks. Eli eyed them all, forming the words in this mind, preparing a long and empowering speech to deliver.

As the many expectant eyes stared up at him, he released his prepared speech. There was no point for fancy vocabulary, not now.

"You all know why you are here." He took a large step down from the platform, wincing as his weight jarred his bad leg. He needed his people to know that he was one of them, not someone who would just give orders and hide in the castle. Face them like a warrior, like a true leader you are, he could hear Raphine say. He was the High Priest, it was his responsibility. "We were attacked by a force in which I fear is the doing of a Walker."

Fear and murmurs rippled through the crowd. "But the Walkers are extinct," one of them said.

Now is not the time for fear. "It is a possibility, but we all witnessed the intensity of the Mandrake attacks. Everything was planned with care, right under our very noses. However, we are now aware of their presence, and we need to take action."

"Every one of you here is an Oracle." Eli started talking in a quicker pace, running his eyes over his people. Occasionally, he would fixate his gaze on one, reassuring him or her. "We will defend our homes till the very last drop of blood. Whoever is attacking us, we will fight back."

"I need several of you to go to the nearest Oracle towns and recruit as many able-bodied Oracles as you can. There is not enough time for our Oracle army to make their way through the Shining Seas to the Hall of Spirits. We need to make do with whatever we have. The armory is full of Celestial forged weapons. The Feorhs will take all of you to the armory where you shall be equipped with armor and weapons. Then, assemble at the Hall courtyard in two hours. Who is willing to be in charge of finding militia?"

Several hands flew into the air. Eli recognized them at once-the senior Oracles at the Hall: Geminia and Felicia Stormborn, Pier Corinth, Nejen Hieldorn and Daniel Sybari. He gave them a nod of approval.

"We prepare for war, tonight."

******

Tonight was the second night since the curfew.

Cady stared out of the Hall windows, watching the many orange lights bob across the machicolation. Shouts and an occasional scruffle would rise from the patrolling Oracles below. Many of them were born after the Great War and had never stared death in the eye. Unused to battle and hardships, their complaints were enough to drown out the bell which tolled in the distance from one of the Oracle towns-announcing the hour of curfew to its citizens.

The Hall of Spirits, being built on a mountain, had no moat. Hence, their first line of defense was the draw bridge and the magically reinforced rampart. Eli had stationed archers across the entire length of the Hall machicolation. The armory Tinkers had supplied them with a large array of arrows, ranging from normal ones to those with explosive tips for blowing up a body upon contact. She hoped that they were enough to stop whatever Jasper had in mind.

Jasper. His name sent spikes of pain shooting through her heart. She pressed her forehead against the window, her warm breath misting up the glass. Something warm slithered across her shoulders before its ends fell to the floor. Zoroth had covered her up with a blanket.

"You're cold," he said. "You should go sit by the fireplace."

Cady shook her head, her eyes wandering back to the window.

"You want to see him."

Zoroth's blunt statement hit her in the chest. Yes, she couldn't deny it. Some part of her wanted him back, traitor or no. She yearned to see him, to touch his face, and to explore the scars on his face, all his perfections and imperfections.

She sat closer to Zoroth who wrapped her in his arms. She rested her head on his powerful chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his beating heart--the heart which she brought life to a year ago. He nuzzled her hair, breathing in her scent. "Zoroth," Cady said. "Is Jasper a Walker?"

"I can't tell," he admitted. "I didn't know you were a Walker until you saved me. Only the Ancients can differentiate a Walker from other Starlets by smell."

"What if he is a Walker?" she pressed on. "Then who should I help? I can't kill him-it'll be murdering my own kind-our own kind."

Zoroth stroked her hair, letting the silky strands slide through his clawed fingers. "Don't fret about the future until it comes."

Cady closed her eyes, wanting to forget everything that was happening outside. If Jasper was truly a Walker, then she wouldn't be alone. She would have a friend, a lover who would understand her. He would be the only person in the world who wouldn't view her as a demon, a symbol of blasphemy and evil.

But he still walked out on the Oracles, bringing doom in his place.

"When this is all over, I want to go home."

Zoroth continued stroking her, soothing her with his Decanate hums. Even when she said the word home, it struck a hollow kernel in her heart. Where was home? Was there even a place in the world where she could call a home? Her life in the New World was no more, the Hall of Shadows long destroyed and she couldn't live the lie as an Oracle forever.

The Walker tattoo on her arm was already crawling back in, visible under the peeling layer of cream. Since Jasper's disappearance, she had no supply of it, not to mention her lack of artistic skills. For the first time, Cady felt a little comfort in wearing the long sleeved Oracle robes-they kept her safe.

"We could always leave," Zoroth suggested. "We'll just vanish from the Hall of Spirits to somewhere in the East. We could go to Da'raan, or even across Beyond the Beyond to the Unexplored Isles. Esvanira is vast, we could go anywhere."

She had suggested this to Firaun before, but the young High Priest had shook his head and laughed. "No Starlet would walk away from their homeland willingly, even for a Walker."

Well, it seemed like it was her only resolution. But walking away meant leaving everybody she loved behind-Lydia, Eli, Firaun, Thomas, Jo and Josh.

Josh would understand, he is my brother, she reasoned.

But he is no Walker. How can non-Walkers understand the pain of being in constant hiding? Being afraid of even walking in the light without pretense?

Cady plugged her fingers into her ears. The whispers in her mind had gone darker, louder over the past few weeks. Go away, she pleaded. Stop messing with my thoughts.

The voices giggled. Walkers have no place in this world, not even in the beginning, because of their abnormal abilities with the shadows, their bonds with the bloodthirsty creatures called Decanates. You should join Jasper, you should join his cause.

Tell me then, what is his cause? She shot back.

Revenge, of course, the shadows whispered. Isn't that what you've always wanted within that heart of yours? You were cast out of the Hall of Games because of your fear of being discovered. You had to bear the constant shame and ridicule of Raphine Sanguinis, his words trampling even on the dead souls of Walkers. You want him dead.

Cady's mind flashed back to the Raphine's birthday, his hateful speech had ignited a spark of hate in her. At that very moment, she was tempted to drop all her disguise and rise with the shadows, to wipe that contented look off his face.

Yes, she wanted him dead.

No, no, no! She shook the dark thoughts out of her mind. Killing wasn't right. It wasn't the solution to anything. Hate and prejudice was what brought the Hall of Shadows its knees. It must not happen again.

The darkness in her mind extended their claws, unwilling to be prised off. Cady squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her Celestial Energy into a shield, trying to ward off the congesting darkness.

Zoroth snarled, sensing her losing battle with the darkness. His consciousness plunged in, snapping the strands of blackness apart. Cady buried her face in Zoroth's shoulder and cried. She hated how weak she was, crying whenever danger and doubt knocked on her door. She clawed at Zoroth, hitting him with her fists until she ran out of energy, as if somehow, by hitting something, it would be enough to unleash the pain and hurt bottled up within her.

Something hard and bulky pressed against her waist. She remembered-the bottle Jasper had given her. She was tempted to remove it and smash it against the wall, destroying it like how Jasper had destroyed her.

Zoroth suddenly grabbed her. Startled, Cady almost lashed out with her powers.

"Cady, look."

She followed Zoroth's finger. Throwing her legs off the cushion she sat on, she half-lunged at the window.

The first light winked in the distance, followed by thousands of others. Like ants marching down an anthill, the lights approached the Hall of Spirits in an orderly manner. Dark objects fluttered in the air-the unmistakable shape of banners and flags. Cady pressed her face against the glass, squinting.

Leading the steady stream of marching lights was a hooded figure, forging forward in an inhuman speed. The weak moonlight glinted off the figure and his ride, exposing the sinister gleam of a skeletal horse breathing blue flames. However, Cady's attention was focused on the rider--the familiar hunch of his shoulders when riding and the tilt of his head.

Jasper Silverbird. He was here.

*****

A/N

The time has come. The undead army has reached the gates of the Hall of Spirits. War is inevitable, and Cady is still torn between her loyalties and her heart. Eli, on the other hand, is struggling to hold the entire Hall and his people together. Both of them will soon face a bigger test.

Loving your feedback from the last chapter! Half of you are jumping off the ship, the other half are still clinging on. But I can't say anything about that! \ m /

Any thoughts on what might happen next?

Fishballs,

Stef