"Preparations…."
Sabbath muttered the word as he paced his quarters, each measured step echoing against the polished walls. The word tasted heavy, weighted with implications he didn't want to face.
Truly, Sabbath was no stranger to leadership roles. He had been one for the better part of his life. The problem, however, was the memory of his friends…. He was still deathly haunted by the incident, barely pushing through his depression to seek revenge for them. Even so, he much preferred working solo in recent months, avoiding the pain of losing someone else.
Yet life seemed intent on forcing his hand. Athaan — and another,, yet to be met — would soon become his teammates. The logistical work was done; all that remained was steeling his nerves. Leadership demanded swift, decisive action. Even when every instinct screamed otherwise. And hesitation?
"....That would mean another life lost," He murmured, his chest tightened with a familiar ache, but not much time passed before a knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts.
"Sir," a servant greeted him with practiced formality, yet his posture betrayed the discipline of a seasoned swordsman. "The Lord Commander requests your presence at the garden. I will be your guide."
Thumb pressed upon the nestling gap on the bridge of his nose and between his eyes — Sabbath exhaled slowly, forcing composure back into his voice: "Alright then. Please, lead the way."
Walking steadily, both made their way past the large castle halls, headed for the garden, where Krown, Eilead, Kevin, Aisha…. and surely, Athaan too, waited.
"Sabbath, glad you could join us. Looks like you're already set." Eilead said with his characteristic warmth, though Sabbath found it unsettling in moments like these.
Krown, ever stoic, suppressed a scowl at Eilead's ease. His brother never did realise how disquieting that perceived warmth was in certain situations. Nevertheless, he soon said: "Welcome, boy. I see you've met Sir Tal, Aisha and Kevin's bodyguard."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Sabbath replied, glancing in Tal's direction ever so slightly — as if to ground his presence. If one wasn't paying attention, they would completely miss it. "To what do I owe the honour?" Sabbath continued.
"Just getting acquainted, really. You could consider this a formality. Tal here will be your guide, as you pick-up the third member of your team."
"And the carriage?" Sabbath asked, gesturing toward the corner of the garden where the ornatedragon-newt-drawn transport waited.
Krown nodded. "It's ready. You'll be heading to the Redine District. A short retrieval in the port sector. You should be back by this time tomorrow."
"Ok then, we'll be on our way."
"See you soon guys," Athaan said energetically, to Kevin and Aisha, though only one of them returned the same. Moments later, Sabbath and Athaan boarded the carriage, its wheels groaning as it rolled into motion.
The good-byes were said, it was time to move.
And so they did.
×××
Traversing the same route they used when approaching House Aegis, only reversed…. everything seemed equally mesmerising, and this time, a bit familiar.
Sabbath stared out the carriage window, watching buildings zoom by — well, they were zooming by, and the buildings were static, but what did it matter? He was lost in thought once more.
In a not so distant memory.
He caught glimpse of a city fountain, still slick with blood. Not as fresh or warm as it had been two months ago, but there nonetheless.
Sabbath leaned back in his seat, the faint rattling of the carriage echoing the unrest in his heart. He shut his eyes for a moment, but the memories surfaced unbidden, the clarity of his recollection stark.
The day had been deceptively ordinary, the kind that mocked a person for expecting peace in a world that knew none. The sky had been clear, its golden rays draping the cobbled streets of Everlance in a sheen of warmth that felt wholly undeserved. Sabby had wandered aimlessly, his feet carrying him to the square without his consent, his thoughts a jumble of despair and anguish. The city buzzed around him — merchants haggled, children laughed, life pressed on — yet Sabbath was cocooned in silence, deaf to their joy, immune to their presence.
The fountain had been the first thing he saw. It was a centerpiece of the square, a marble structure carved with depictions of Knights battling Fiends, of heroes triumphing over unimaginable odds. The water had sparkled in the sunlight, a cruel mimicry of purity. And then came the scream. A sharp, piercing cry that cut through the noise, silencing the square in an instant.
Sabbath had turned on instinct, his eyes catching what looked like some sort of Fiend — a hulking, grotesque beast with jagged, chitinous armor and glowing crimson eyes — had emerged from seemingly nowhere, scattering civilians like dry leaves in a gale. Sabbath was frozen, his body unwilling to obey the commands of his mind. He had been a leader once, a commander who would have acted without hesitation. But grief kept him shackled, his body weighed down by the memories of those he had failed to save. He didn't even attempt to call for help from the Knights stationed nearby. Sabby would come to know later why the Knights couldn't arrive at the scene faster, having been distracted somewhere else.
And then a boy ran past him. No older than twelve, face pale but determined, clutching a blade too heavy for his small hands.
The boy had charged the Fiend with reckless abandon, a battle cry on his lips. Sabbath watched, paralyzed, as the creature swatted the child aside with a casual flick of its claw. The boy's body crumpled like paper, landing near the fountain with a sickening thud, blood flowing from his head…. knocked unconscious, though showing some telltale signs of life.
But that wasn't the worst of it, chilling Sabbath to the bone was the young girl at the heart of it all, her ginger hair matted with sweat, her body trembling but defiant as she stood her ground. Sabbath recognized her instantly yet her name escaped him in the moment, her peril was unmistakable.
He stood rooted to the cobbled stones, breath shallow, chest heaving. The chaos around him blurred, the screams distant and muffled, like a storm raging behind glass. His feet felt nailed to the ground, heavy as lead, and in his mind, the chains were back — thick, iron rings that wrapped around his limbs and dragged him into the depths of his own despair.
'Move.' a voice in his mind whispered. But his body still refused to obey as his hands trembled, not with the adrenaline of battle, but with the weight of his grief.
He could see their faces. Floating before him, vivid as the day they died, and he was drowning in the guilt of inadequacy..
"You're weak," he muttered to himself. The words twisted, venomous, in his chest. "You let them die."
The girl's scream jolted him, sharp and raw. He flinched, eyes snapping to her small figure as the Fiend loomed closer, its jagged claws slicing through the air. Time felt liquid, stretching and contracting. He couldn't move.
"You're going to let her die, too?" a voice said — not his own, but familiar.
He blinked, and in the midst of his breakdown, there they were.
Hayz stood before him, arms crossed, his expression fierce and unyielding. "This isn't you, Sabbath. You'd have run into that fight already if it were us."
Emaila stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "You're still in there. The one who doesn't hesitate. The man who fought for all of us."
"You're just scared," Jon said softly, index finger tapping on the locket resting just above Sabby's usual pendant. "But fear doesn't control you. You know that."
"I can't," Sabbath rasped aloud, voice trembling. "I couldn't save you. I can't save her."
"Lies." Angelie growled. "The chains you see aren't real. You made them yourself, and you can break them as well. So do it."
Sabbath's breathing hitched as his friends began to fade, their voices echoing hauntingly, growing distant.
"Go!" they mouthed in unison. "Do what you do. Move, Sabbath!"
The image of the girl, fragile and defiant, filled his mind. Her terror mirrored his own, but her defiance lit a spark inside him.
He gritted his teeth, the roar of his pulse flooding him with adrenaline.
As he took a step forward, he saw it — the chains snapping, each one breaking with a soundless fury. They weren't real. They had never been real. His fear was just a ghost, and ghosts couldn't hold him back, not anymore.
With every step, his confidence returned, a wave crashing against the debris of his despair. His Subject ignited, chess pieces shimmering into being around him, ready to strike.
The last chain broke.
Sabbath rushed forward, his constructs already leaping into action, and the world became clear again.
The girl had to have been ambushed. This was no random Fiend attack. Sabbath's eyes caught the subtle hints of human interference: small explosive devices rigged to collapse pathways, strategically placed around the square — cutting off any chance of escape. Civilians scrambled in confusion, while shadowed figures darted in the chaos, their cloaks concealing weapons aimed at the girl no doubt.
The Fiend roared, its claws slamming into the ground inches from the girl as she dodged frantically. Around her, the assassins moved, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The girl was anything but helpless, she fought back, drawing a blade too ornate to be practical, swinging wildly at the approaching Fiend. It was futile however, her strikes too clumsy and desperate, she wasn't helpless…. but she wasn't strong enough either, she would need help, and Sabbath was there to do just that.
Without pause three of his knights surged forward, clashing against the beast with brutal precision, two pawns circling her like vultures while Sabbath stepped between the girl and the assassins.
One, cloaked and armed with curved daggers, sneered. "Step aside. This isn't your fight."
Sabbath's eyes narrowed, his voice low and sharp. "You made it mine the moment you picked a child as your target."
Another assassin lunged, whip sword flashing. Sabbath intercepted the attack with his longsword, shattering the assassin's steel with mocking ease.
The leader hesitated, his agitation evident.
"Do you think you can take us all or do you believe you can stall until reinforcements arrive?"
Sabbath smiled. "Yes."
It had been a short and intense endeavor, the assassins no match for Sabbath. He reached the girl — just as the last assassin fell — her wide eyes meeting his, filled with both fear and gratitude, before she collapsed into his arms, exhausted but alive. Her small frame trembled, clutching his tunic as though anchoring herself to safety, while his two pawns dissolved into the air, their work complete.
The Fiend, now alone and cornered, let out a final, guttural roar before Sabbath's knights struck it down. The beast's massive form crumpled, its fiery eyes extinguishing without purchase.
Sabbath stood amidst the destruction, the girl still trembling in his grasp. Around them, the square was silent, save for the distant cries of injured civilians. The weight of what had happened pressed down on him, but for the first time in months, it wasn't suffocating.
He had acted. He had saved her.
"There's no turning back now," he whispered to himself, the words a vow as much as an acceptance. He would no longer rot in despair over the death of his friends. He would avenge them, whoever it was, they would meet the remainder of Team Holiday's wrath.
The memory faded, and Sabbath opened his eyes, the present rushing back in with the rhythm of the carriage wheels on the dirt road. Across from him, Athaan studied Sabby curiously, his expression unreadable.
Sabbath didn't speak, but his resolve burned brighter than ever.
His path was set.