Before Dawn
The world was still wrapped in shadows when Aren Vale opened his eyes.
He lay still for a moment, feeling Selene's gentle weight curled against his side, her breathing soft and steady.
The warmth of her,the safety of this bed,the preciousness of this life —it struck him like a spear.
Slowly, carefully, Aren shifted.
He brushed a stray lock of raven hair from Selene's forehead and pressed a kiss to her temple.
Then, with a soft voice heavy with emotion, he whispered,"Wake, love."
Selene stirred, blinking up at him with those violet eyes that had always seen through him.
"Aren?" she murmured, sleep-heavy.
He smiled — a real, aching smile.
"I must leave," he said gently."Perhaps for days. Perhaps longer."
Selene sat up immediately, worry flashing across her features.
Aren cupped her face between his hands, his thumb stroking her cheek tenderly.
"Do not wait. Do not worry," he said."Trust that I will do everything to return."
"But if..."His voice caught — something rare, almost foreign.
"If I should fail — know this."
He kissed her slowly, deeply.
"You were the greatest gift the heavens ever gave me.""You are my peace. My strength. My only true home."
Selene's hands trembled against his.
"And you," she whispered fiercely,"are my everything."
They held each other for a long, wordless moment,then, with the dignity of warriors and the tenderness of soulmates,they let go.
Aren dressed simply:dark slacks, a black shirt open at the throat, boots built for movement.
He slipped from their room without another sound,carrying only duty — and love — in his heart.
Deep beneath the estate,Aren approached the hidden chamber that none but he had ever touched.
The heavy, rune-carved doors parted at his command, ancient locks surrendering to his will.
Inside, silence reigned.
And at the very heart of the room, hovering in the air like a captured piece of night sky,waited Behemoth's Fang.
a katana that seemed to drink the very light around it.
Aren approached.
The moment his fingers touched the hilt, a deep thrummm sounded —the weapon recognizing its true master.
Without hesitation, he opened the gates of his soul —that sacred space only transcended beings could access —and Behemoth's Fang dissolved into pure spiritual energy,flowing back into his soul-space,settling like a coiled beast slumbering at the heart of him.
The familiar weight returned — not physical, but spiritual.A deep thrum of power, silent and absolute, ready to answer when called.
Sealing the chamber once more,Aren turned and strode into the breaking dawn —sword hidden, but always within reach.
The imperial palace loomed against the early morning light,a fortress of silver stone and flowing banners.
Aren passed through the gates without fanfare —the guards bowing deeply, their faces pale with awe and reverence.
Inside, Arthur Pendragon awaited him —golden-haired, blue-eyed, a figure of strength and serenity.
No crown adorned Arthur's head today.Only the heavy mantle of a ruler preparing for the impossible.
They greeted each other with a clasp of forearms —not as Emperor and Duke,but as comrades who had bled together on battlefields long forgotten by history.
The War Council Begins
They wasted no time.
In a private war room deep within the palace,maps were unfurled, intelligence reports scattered across tables.
For hours —then days —they pored over every possible angle.
1. Alliance Progress
The good news:The dragons and demons were ready.The elves had secured the site near the World Tree for the summoning ritual.The dwarves, merfolk, and lesser races had agreed to minor roles under the alliance.
The bad news:There were whispers among human nobility,factions who resented foreign races being treated as equals.Aren promised quietly that if any dared disrupt the balance —he would deal with them personally.
Arthur did not argue.
2. Empire Security
They drafted contingency plans:
Emergency shelter locations for civilians.
Defensive wards amplified across the capital.
Emergency teleportation corridors established by Court Mages.
Sacred Relics prepared for use in last-resort defenses.
They both knew:None of it would matter if angels descended.
Only Aren and Arthur could hope to fight transcendent threats.
But it was human to prepare anyway —and Aren would not rob them of the right to hope.
3. Protection During the Summoning
The greatest risk was during the ritual itself.
While forging contracts,one's soul was exposed —vulnerable.
If enemies struck then,even a transcendent could be slain.
They arranged it all:
Hidden guard formations hidden around the World Tree perimeter.
Magical sensor arrays to detect approaching energy signatures.
Spellweavers primed to shield the summoning grounds if needed.
Aren himself would anchor the field from the outside while the others engaged in the ritual.
Arthur would stay beside the elven king, ensuring political neutrality.
No one would be allowed within ten kilometers unless authorized.
If they dared approach?
Aren would remind them why the world still feared his name.
The meetings stretched into the night.
Between strategic sessions,Aren stood alone on the palace balconies,staring into the endless darkness.
Selene's scent lingered in his mind.
Mira's laughter.
Elara's stubborn determination.
Alice's cautious hope.
Darian's quiet struggle.
Lyra's fierce heart.
He closed his eyes,sealing those memories behind unbreakable walls.
For them —he would face the gods themselves.
And he would not yield.
On the seventh night,Aren and Arthur stood side by side before the grand map of the world.
All plans were finalized.
All hopes set into motion.
Tomorrow —they would leave for the Elven Kingdom.
Tomorrow —the Circle of Guardians would carve their first oath into history.
And Aren?
Aren would walk willingly into the mouth of uncertainty —sword in hand, heart unbroken.
For family.
For the future.
For the smiles he could not — would not — allow this world to steal.