A voice had twined through her dreams, familiar and feminine. She spoke of terrible things, of her knights being turned against her and her bloodthirsty brother approaching. Tigris had sunk deep into unconsciousness, but the hauntingly feminine had tickled the recesses of her mind with familiarity.

Roche.

The name came to her as the Ala bellowed, "WAKE UP!"

Tigris shot upright, her hand instinctively darting for her sword. Her eyes caught on familiar molten brown irises that peered at her through a swirling mass of inkblood.

Tigris' grip on her sword faltered.

"Roche?" she whispered, her mind racing. Was this some kind of trick? Roche didn't have inkblood, how was this possible?

Her friend peered at her through the strange ring of inkblood intently. There was no mistaking the intelligent gleam of her eyes and the small smile tucked in the corners of her lips. It was Roche. It was truly Roche. And Roche had brought her several warnings that needed to be heeded.

Tigris opened her mouth to press for details when a flicker of movement in her tent caught her eye. Behind the strange inkblood ring, two glowing eyes blinked to life. Teeth flashed for a moment, and then the uskoi was lunging for her, charging through Roche's inkblood ring.

Tigris vaulted out of bed, swinging her sword down. It took a few blows, but the creature dispersed into a cloud of smoke. Tigris grabbed her torch and charged out of her tent. It was still dark outside, about an hour from dawn. They were near the border of Moiris, nearly at their battlefield.

The knights guarding her tent startled as Tigris charged through, grass prickling her feet. They jumped to attention.

"My lady!" Sir Harold cried out, sounding a bit mortified. Tigris realised that she was in her nightgown and completely undressed. It didn't matter. They didn't have time.

"Get everyone up," she ordered, her jaw setting when she drew blank stares from her knights, "We need to get to Moiris and get into position, now. Finn's coming. He has an enchantment that will warp the minds of our knights."

Harold and Ruth exchanged a glance. Ruth cleared her throat, stepping closer with a placating expression.

"Milady, are you sure?" the knight pressed, her lavender eyes gleaming with worry, "How did you figure this out?"

Tigris bit her lip, feeling a flare of heat burst through her. She must have looked like a lunatic raving about a dream in her state. But she had no time to argue. She yanked open the flaps of her tent, pointing to the splatters of inkblood on the ground.

"That!" she announced, watching her guards go pale, "I got a message. Now, we don't have time to waste. Wake everyone before it's too-"

Tigris was cut off by a sudden thud that shook the earth. It came from the edge of their encampment, at the furthest end from Moiris.

"What was that?" Harold murmured as the other knights poked their heads out of their tents, roused from their sleep by the noise.

Tigris darted back into her tent, tearing off her nightgown and slipping into her fighting clothes in a quick motion. She held her sword tight to her side as she strode back out.

"Move!" she bellowed to the knights, lofting her sword and torch, "We're under attack!"

She turned back around to the edge of the camp and watched as their torches began to die one by one. It started out slow, the quick blink of flames winking out, leaving crushing darkness in its place. In the fleeting light of the embers, Tigris watched her knights trudge out of their tents. She glimpsed their faces.

Their eyes were empty, devoid of thought. Their eyes searched the camp, latching on the sight of Tigris' face. Her blood went cold as they grinned triumphantly. In synchrony, the knights at the perimeter took a step towards her.

The ground shook under the weight of that step, fissuring the ground.

"WAKE UP!" Tigris ordered her knights, "RUN!" She grabbed Harold and Ruth by the arms, tugging them away from the tide of extinguished torches.

"He's herding us towards Moiris," she told them as they ran from tent to tent, firing off their guns to wake the knights. The army was quickly roused, abandoning their camps as they saw the tide of stomping knights.

"He's trying to start the battle early," Ruth muttered, urging Tigris forward, "And he wants to control how it starts."

"It would give him the best chance of success," Tigris confirmed, chancing a look over her shoulder. The wave of sputtering torches was approaching fast now, nearly at their heels. It was too fast to outrun. Half of the camp was already under the enchantments thrall, sprinting towards her.

"Your Majesty, go! Leave the knights!" Harold shouted, wrenching her away from another tent, "They want you."

"There's nowhere to run," Tigris growled back, "I will not leave my knights under enchantment!"

Harold opened his mouth to argue when an icy chill swept over them. Tigris watched in horror as her torch began to sputter and flicker. Ruth dropped her sword, her face contorting. She met Tigris' eyes as her steps stuttered.

"Run!" the knight choked out.

Tigris stumbled away, but her wrists were seized by Harold. His eyes were empty and hollow, glinting with malice. Tigris clenched her jaw, aiming her bound wrists at his solar plexus. With a grunt, he released her, and Tigris rushed away, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her back slammed into another knight. She swept her gaze around, realising with no small amount of horror that she was surrounded.

This wasn't how the battle was supposed to go.

They hadn't even gotten to Moiris.

"No," she murmured as the knights stopped running, fully surrounding her. The chilly night air went still as they raised their swords in unison. Tigris' breath flooded out of her as she braced for the death blow of a hundred blades.

A chorus of voices sliced through the air. "Ipai eleuma!"

The words, shared by many, rippled over the knights with power. The scent of fresh inkblood, nearly as pure as Roche's, filled the air, turning the night darker. Suddenly, the knights all went still. They blinked, a spark filling their eyes. Tentative relief filled Tigris as her knights glanced among each other, confusion filling their features.

Behind her, Ivie dropped her sword, looking horrified.

Harold came to his senses the quickest. He rubbed his smarting solar plexus with one hand, cast Tigris an apologetic look before glancing at the streams of ink floating through the air. The enchanted substance glowed like nebulas, painting the dark night with beautiful, aurora-like colours that pulsed gently. The mere sight filled Tigris with ease.

Her guards were not nearly as relaxed. They spun towards the edge of the forest to the group of cloaked figures that emerged. Their hands were raised, commanding the inkblood in the air. Their rolled back sleeves revealed pulsing veins of inkblood, carved into symbols that Tigris vaguely recognised.

"We mean no harm!" a familiar voice called out.

Tigris dropped her sword back into her sheath, sweeping her hair out of her face for a better look. A grin spread across her features.

"At ease," she told her knights, pushing through the crowd.

Brom grabbed her by the arm before she could reach the cloaked figures, looking pale. "Queenie, are you sure-"

"I am. These are friends," she said firmly, sweeping her gaze to her uncertain knights.

"Indeed," the figure at the front insisted, lowering his hood, revealing rich dark skin and twinkling silver eyes. Tarak smiled at the army, his eyes meeting Tigris'. "We were sent by the Ala."

The words sent a rush through Tigris' body. "She's alright?" she asked, moving closer.

She sensed a stir of movement behind her, a few knights lurching to drag her back. Tigris heard Ivie's voice cut through the din. "They saved us from killing the queen. We can trust them."

That seemed to silence any doubts.

As one, the librarians bowed, their cloaks pooling around them.

"The Ala is well, last I saw her," Tarak replied, "She comes to aid you. But you are in danger. The traitor prince comes for you now. He wants to-"

"Warp our minds against the queen," Brom interrupted wryly, gesturing to the amassed knights, "Yeah. We noticed."

Tarak's lips quirked. He rose to his feet. "We were meant to meet you at Moiris to assist you, but we noticed the enchantment being laid upon you. We decided to meet you here instead."

"I am grateful, truly," Tigris told him warmly. She glanced amongst the cloaked figures, "Will you all be fighting with us?"

Tarak nodded, hesitating for a beat. "We've sent nearly all of our scribes- our children to safety. Everyone here is willing and ready to help defend your men against the traitor prince's foul enchantments."

Tigris' brow furrowed. "Nearly all of your children?" she repeated, "It would pain me to see a child slain in battle, Tarak,"

The librarian winced. "Ah, I meant to send Orpheus and myself away as per the Ala's command, but we needed to lead the other covens here first. We saw you getting attacked and... well, we couldn't leave."

Tarak stepped aside, revealing a familiar face. Orpheus had grown since Tigris had last seen him. His childish features had lengthened into an elfish and impish adolescent's face. His brassy eyes glowed brighter than ever, and his shock of unruly dark hair was artfully swept away from his eyes. He grinned toothily at her, with an innocence that instantly reminded Tigris of her brothers when they were younger.

"Hello, your Majesty. It's good to see you again." Orpheus murmured.

Tigris blinked. Roche's warnings blared in her mind. "Hello, Orpheus," she said carefully, smiling diplomatically, "You and your guardian should get to safety while we get into position."

Much to her dismay, Orpheus' grin dimmed. "I can help!" he insisted, with all the fervor of a child.

Tarak tutted. "Orpheus, we must heed the Ala's advice," he chided before turning to Tigris with an apologetic smile, "My lady, you do not have much time. You must get to Moiris. The traitor prince is nearly upon us."

The gravity of the words chilled the air further, even as the first rays of the morning sun peeked up over the horizon. Dark clouds were rolling in, blocking out the light. Tigris cleared her throat.

"Right," she murmured, turning to her knights, "Pack up. Quickly." As the army hurried to follow her orders, she stepped closer to Tarak. "How can the covens help?"

"We'll be evenly spread amongst the battlefield, warding away the enchantment," Tarak promised. His eyes darkened slightly, "As long as we can, at least. If the uska attack us, there is nothing we can do to fight them off. Most of our librarians do not have the strength to keep up the enchantment to keep the minds of your knights clear and to summon fire at the same time."

"We'll have to be quick, then," Tigris muttered. Her closest knights remained, and she turned to them. "We'll need to isolate Finn as quickly as we can, kill him, and then move to close the portal."

Tarak nodded along. He glanced at Orpheus. "I would stay, but I must heed the Ala's advice."

"I think that would be best," Tigris agreed, glancing at Orpheus. The young boy pouted, and she leaned forward to ruffle his hair. "I hope to see you again one day after the battle, little one."

Orpheus smiled at the fond words, some of his glum disposition evaporating. Tarak bid them farewell and Tigris turned to survey her knights as they packed up camp.

"My lady, are you sure about this?" Ruth asked, her eyes darting to the librarians lining the edge of the camp, waving enchantments over the nervous knights. "Are we sure this plan will work?"

Tigris watched, smiling at her knights to set them at ease. "It has to," she murmured, sweeping her gaze towards the forest. She didn't see a flash of a cheeky grin or a familiar bob of dark hair. Disappointment flickered within her.

"It has to," Tigris murmured, "We have no other option."

-------

They'd camped so close to Moiris that it was less of a march and more of a stroll towards the abandoned farming village. White cliffs with thick blue strata formed a magnificent backdrop against the stormy grey skies as they entered the village. Tigris scanned the space, noting the floating tufts of hay and piles of mulch barely visible in the field of waving grass.

This was where she was destined to die.

Her heart sank in her stomach like a stone. She supposed there were worse places, but she wouldn't have minded something classier.

"Lovely," Brom muttered, kicking a clod of mud off his boot and into the tall grass, "Well, I think I could use a stiff drink."

Ruth cut him a droll look. "You just woke up."

"And?"

Tigris rolled her eyes. "Get the knights into position first, then have a sip of ale, Brom. And if you share any with the new knights, I'll feed you to the uska myself."

"Cheery," Brom muttered, falling back to command his group. Tigris strode through the grass, noticing that the world felt surreal as she approached the narrow pass between the cliffs. They'd chosen their battlefield wisely. Only twenty or so uska would be able to squeeze through the opening at one time.

Tigris came to a stop at the foot of the towering cliffs, her hair tickling her face as a cool but damp breeze swept through the rain soaked air. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance as she peered through the opening.

On the other side, she could see a crumbling tower, made of dark, weathered stone. It swayed precariously in the stormy winds, the air churning around it. Tigris' breath hitched as she lifted her gaze, facing Finn's tear in the world.

The portal was monstrous. Even shielded by cliffs and swirling clouds, Tigris felt exposed and small in its face. The portal was darker than shadows and night. It had the aura of deeds best left unsaid, of lives stolen and spirits wronged. It reeked of malice and revenge, filling the air with the stench of death. She could see grotesque faces peering out the edge of the portal, eagerly pressing up against the land of the living. They seethed and frothed in a mass, waiting for the command to be free. The uska were interspersed among them, shrieking with eerie and haunting delight.

The hair on Tigris' arm rose at the sound of their howls. Her knights went silent. She turned slowly, watching the faces of her bravest warriors go pale at the horrific sound that was as shrill as nails on a chalkboard and as haunting as the cries of a parent mourning a child.

Tigris swallowed. Now was not the time for fear.

"That," she shouted over the howling winds, making her knights jump at the sound of her voice, "Is what we are protecting this world from. This is what we are protecting our families from. Our friends. Our children and their children. We are protecting them from this horror and the horrors that the cursed uska and spirits plan to inflict."

Tigris straightened, drawing her sword. She pointed it at the swirling portal that opened into hell.

"We are staring death and its shadow in the face. Look at it!" she ordered her knights, sweeping her eyes back to the portal, "Look at it and know that we will not let it take the living. Know that we will be victorious. Today, we end this nightmare."

Slow cheers began from the knights, a steady rumbling of applause and whoops. Tigris grinned, hoisting her sword. It glinted with light as lightning flashed in the distance.

"No longer will we live in fear. No longer will you need to draw a sword and pray that these demons will not attack your families. No longer will you need to dream of peace because today we will take it. Today we choose balance. Today we choose the kingdom we have dreamt of for eons. Today, we will bring a time that our ancestors have dreamt of: the time of Faultless peace."

The cheers began to build. The wind picked up in response, slicing at Tigris' eyes. She turned her gaze back to the portal. The spirits and uska were pulsating eagerly, sensing the living nearby. Her throat dried. She turned back to her knights.

"That," she repeated, "Is death. But today, we are choosing life. The life of our loved ones and their loved ones. The life of the Faultless and Tseltans and Irulians and Shultans and Amarans. The life of everyone who has loved and will love. The life of the dreams this kingdom inspires."

The dead and the creatures of the dead were nearly ready. She could feel their malicious presence grating against the world of the living. She lifted her sword, meeting the eyes of her knights resolutely.

"Are you ready," she announced grandly, her hair streaming behind her, "To choose to keep that dream alive?"

Her knights roared. They stomped and clapped raucously, whistling and shouting, drowning out the cries of the uska and the howls of the dead. They dared those foul creatures to come out and meet them.

Tigris turned then, turned and faced death again. She gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, her heart pounding in her ears.

Today, she would die.

And she would die protecting everyone she loved.

There was no better fate for a queen.

The portal seemed to still for a moment. The clouds stopped churning. The dead froze in place.

"Ready!" Tigris shouted, lifting her torch. The librarians began to chant softly, the drone of their voices filling the sudden silence and stillness. Their voices faded to hum as Tigris stared ahead, facing the portal once more.

She watched the spirits turn their eyes to her as one. They blinked once.

Twice.

A pair of green eyes winked at her from amongst the masses.

Tigris roared with her knights as death exploded towards them.

A/N: I suck at writing battle pep talks LOL! Hopefully the rest of the chapter was alright :D

Not much happened this chapter, but it sets up some important info for the next few chapters :)

Up next, we get the long await battle and maybe a reunion! :O

Heads up, this next chapter might take a little longer to write, so there might not be an update tomorrow.

As always, happy reading!