They chained Jaina to the Menhir stone outside town, thatch roofs and wood walls still smoking in the angry gloom. She didn't put up a fight when they did it, only smiled as the cold metal looped around her and locked shut.

"That'll keep you." Kaylon Vausk heaved out a sigh. "Oughta leave you here too. Let the birds pick at you for a bit. How does that sound huh, you farking mad bitch?"

"Sounds like a dream come true, Vausk." Jaina gave him a sly wink. "You really know how to treat a lady."

"Fark yourself!" There was a loud crack as he slapped her hard across the jaw, blood trickling down her nose.

"Enough." Olaf stepped between the two of them, eyeing Kaylon like a child caught stealing. "We did not come here to beat and belittle our prisoner. We came here for answers."

" The only answers we'll get out of her is how best to torture people and how much blood she likes to put in her ale." Kaylon took a step back however, keeping his hands to himself. "Besides, she's a Forsworn, not a damned Chosen. She doesn't know a damn thing."

"Chosen?" Regis asked, perking up at the word.

"Those hand picked by the High King to serve as his honor guard," Olaf told him.

"Ah, sounds a lot like the Vangen."

"Like who?" Vausk scratched at this temple. "Some folk I should know about?"

"No," Regis said flatly, hoping to change the subject. "No one important. "Least, not anymore."

And yet the memories came bubbling back to the surface regardless. Twenty five years ago he would have found himself exactly in Jaina's place, killing rebels as the elite guard for a higher power. Now he was standing on the other side of the wall, fighting for a cause he barely believed in, all in the name of revenge. What the fark was he even doing here in the first place?

Someone laughed, and all three men turned their heads at once. Jaina slithered up against the Menhir stone, barely staying upright with her one functioning leg, the other foot flopping uselessly beside her. What had started as a chuckle quickly turned into a mocking sneer as she openly mocked them, her red rimmed eyes gleaming mirror bright in the forever gloom.

"What's so damn funny," Vausk demanded.

"You are," Jaina said. "All of you! You're like a pack of mongrel dogs snapping at one other over the last bone. It's beyond pathetic."

" Why don't shut your mouth before I shut it—,"

"Oh, go shut your own damn door for once, Vausk!" The woman snarled back at him, the rest of the man's words dying in his throat. "You pathetic idiot. For ten years I've chased you down, believing you knew something that could ruin everything the king had created for us. And do you know what I've learned after these ten long, agonizing years? You don't know a farking thing. You're just as clueless as the rest of the rebel scum. Wanna know how I know? Eh, Vausk?"

The man swallowed, his knobby throat bobbing. "How, Jaina?"

"Because you never realized that I've been the King's Chosen for years now."

Regis stood there pondering cluelessly over her words, but could tell it had an immediate effect on the others. Vausk went absolutely rigid. Even Olaf, in his stoic nature, went visibly pale.

"You mean to tell me..." Vausk trailed off as he reached out with a trembling hand and gently wiped the blood from Jaina's nose, his eyes widening in terror as it smudged like dust against his fingertips.

"That's right. I've been given the highest honor by our King. I've been blessed with the same gift given to him by his Witch." Her eyes turned the color of glacial ice as the glow of the torchlight washed over her. "Now he sees what I see and knows what I know. There is nowhere left to hide, Olaf the Lightbringer."

"It's a trap!" Vausk cried out, panic rising in his voice. "The High King knows where you are!"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Olaf said, his voice remaining steady. "The Prophecy has already been set in motion. The only thing we can do now is make sure it stays that way."

"The Black Prophecy has already ended, you fool," Jaina said. "The High King and his Witch have made sure of it. You are all doomed!"

"You are wrong, child. The Prophecy has only just begun. Even now my rebels gather, preparing for their onslaught against the High King in Kel Drenor. You will not stop us."

"Your rebels?" Regis balked, staring at his old friend in a new light. "By the seven Hells, Olaf. Don't tell me this entire rebellion was your idea to begin with?"

The man merely shrugged.

"We already have," Jaina spat back. "Even now the other Chosen ride for Middlefort, taking their hordes with them. The High King knows of Jarl Kriggith's treachery already and has planned this moment since the very beginning. We will crush your rebellion before it even starts, Lightbringer. We will drown the city of Middlefort in blood and wash Danic clean of its treachery. We will rid you from this land once and for all!" The woman took in a shuddering breath, eyes wide and mad from her raving, two greasy locks of hair hanging over her face.

Olaf smiled as he parted the strands over Jaina's ear, ignoring her disgust. "Do you really think Kriggith would rise alone without an ally or two at his back?"

Regis frowned, realizing the former Aulderman wasn't talking to Jaina anymore. He was staring past her, to the High King himself.

"What?" The Chosen slipped on her one good foot, chains rattling as they caught hold of her. "What are you talking about, old man? I've heard no reports of insurrection from the other Jarls. Your rebels were driven out of their lands ages ago.

"Kriggith may be a broken man now, but he is not mad. He would not dare raise a hand against you, unless he knew he would win." Olaf paused as Jaina's eyes grew wider and wider, letting the realization sink in. "Unless he knew the other Jarls would join him."

"No," Jaina breathed.

"Yes," Olaf said, his smile never waning. "What do you think I have been doing since the massacre at Rokslid? Since the burning of Roundoar. I have traveled and brought the light back to the lands you drove into darkness. Even now, as your Chosen ride for Middlefort, the other Jarls will have already risen up, killing your Forsworn and making ready to march."

"Middlefort was nothing more than bait," Vausk cut in. "A chance to lure your Chosen into one location. Even now my men are preparing to encircle them. You're done for."

"There will be others," Jaina roared, her voice taking on an unnatural snarl. "The Valkyrian! The Restless! You won't even reach the gates of my castle!"

"We shall see," Olaf said.

"Your trap will fail," the woman continued to rave. "The Chosen will slaughter you all! No matter what you throw at us, no matter how long it takes, we will kill every last one of you! We will sever Galm's bloodline from this land and finally take it for—,"

Jaina's words were cut off with a sickening crunch as Regis crushed her skull with his hammer. Ashen blood spattered the back of the Menhir stone as it buckled against the impact, its top half shearing off as it came crashing down, bits of rubble tumbling past their feet before crumbling to a stop. For a moment, only the wind spoke, howling its secrets to no one.

"You killed her," Vausk said, sounding more disappointed than anything else.

Regis hefted the hammer back, wiping remnants of Jaina off in the snow. "I got bored listening to her."

"We could have gotten more from her!"

"You said it yourself. There wasn't much out of her to begin with, and now your damned cursed King of yours knows what the fark we're up to. We need to ride to Middlefort as fast as possible. Try to salvage what we can from this disaster."

"There's no reason to do that. The High King will be pulling back to try and stop the other Jarls from besieging Kel Drenor," Vausk said.

"No, Olaf said with a shake of his head. "He won't. If Hadrada and I know King Erik as well as we do, he will not simply turn tail and run back to the safety of his walls. He will burn Middlefort to make an example of us. Then he will turn against the other Jarls, believing his Chosen will not fall, that his other armies will be able to fend off the rebellion."

"Hadrada?" Vausk turned towards Regis, looking at him in a new light now. "Aurora protect me. Are you telling me the lost son has been with us the entire time?"

Regis winced at the reverence in Kaylon's voice. "Now hold on a second. I still have some questions about this whole prophecy business."

"The land will be wreathed in fire," Olaf said, quoting the first stanza of the prophecy. "From the return of a lost son."

Regis looked back towards the smoldering remains of Ogdensand. "That was just a coincidence. Fire's always been a popular pastime in Danic. Some men just like to watch it burn for crying out loud."

"And at our greatest end, an omen of bright fortune will born us anew." Olaf finished the second stanza as he wiped his hands on his cassock. "We'll see if the next one's a coincidence as well, but I have a feeling Aurora's return will be soon upon us."

Regis snorted. "Took her time getting here, that's for damn sure."

"Time always flows differently for the divine. Up there in the stars, a century for us happens in the blink of an eye. She's merely gathering her strength, reaching out only when necessary." Olaf stared up at the sky, stars hidden behind the curtain of darkness ever swirling around them. When he looked back to Regis, his eyes were softly glowing once more. "And when that time comes, we will know for certain that she is with us."

***