Only If they are clever enough.

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the city of Delphi. The calm before the storm was almost unsettling, like the quiet intake of breath before a deafening roar. In less than an hour, the horde would arrive. All the preparations had been made, the tactics revised and drilled into the militia. These were not seasoned warriors; they were farmers, blacksmiths, and traders who had taken up arms to defend their home. Still, they stood ready, resolved to fight. Everyone knew their role, understood the cost of failure, and was determined to minimize the losses among their own.
In that fragile moment of peace, I sat on the worn stone steps outside the city hall, Dawn resting across my lap. My hands moved methodically, sharpening its blade with a whetstone, the rhythmic sound of steel against stone a quiet mantra that helped me gather my thoughts. The weight of what was coming pressed heavily on my shoulders, but I **** myself to focus on the task at hand: my impending confrontation with the Erebosian.
“There you are! I was starting to worry you might have gotten lost,” came a familiar voice from behind me, warm yet teasing. I didn’t need to turn to know it was Iris. I recognized her voice as easily as I recognized the feel of Dawn in my grip.
I glanced around exaggeratedly, feigning confusion. “Wait… this isn’t the brothel? Damn, I got played again,” I quipped, managing to draw a soft laugh from her.
She stepped closer and settled beside me, her presence immediately soothing the tense knot in my chest. Without hesitation, she leaned her head on my shoulder, her gesture tender and affectionate.
“What, are you cold?” I teased, glancing down at her with a smirk.
“Nah,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Just wanted to annoy you a little.”
Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, I was caught. Her eyes were a shade of green that seemed to hold the entire forest within them. I could lose myself in them without ever wanting to find my way back.
“I can’t believe we’ve finally made it here,” she said, her voice quieter now. “And the first thing we have to do is fight a battle just to have a chance at stopping the Erebosian.”
“Maybe we did something to piss off Tyche,” I suggested, trying to lighten her mood. “I swear I saw Ikaro talking badly about a black cat earlier...”
She chuckled softly, her laugh like a balm against the rising tension in my chest. “Sounds like not all gods love you as much as we thought,” she said, picking up the thread of the joke. Then, with a sly grin, she added, “Figures. You are kind of a bumbling buffoon sometimes.”
She leaned in and kissed my cheek, her lips warm against my skin. “Don’t worry,” she whispered with a smile. “I find it cute.”
I froze, the warmth spreading from my cheek to the tips of my ears as I felt the color rush to my face. “W-Well,” I stammered, trying to recover. “You’ve got your moments too, you know. Being this pretty must be a real hassle sometimes.”
She laughed, the sound bright and free, and we fell into an easy rhythm of banter. For those precious few moments, the weight of what was coming seemed to lift, replaced by the simple joy of her company.
“By Zeus, you two are so disgustingly cute together,” a familiar voice interrupted, dripping with mockery.
We turned to find Ikaro standing a few paces away, a crooked grin on his face and a bottle in his hand.
“Shut up, you idiot,” Iris shot back, though there was no heat in her voice.
“I’m just stating a fact,” Ikaro said with a shrug, taking a swig from the bottle.
“You’re… drinking before the fight?” I asked, my brows lifting in a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
Ikaro grinned, raising the bottle in a mock toast. “Works to warm the body and relax the muscles.”
Before I could respond, Iris reached over and snatched the bottle from his hand, taking a hearty swig herself.
“Iris!” I exclaimed, half-laughing, half-shocked.
“What?” she said with a smirk, handing the bottle back to her brother. “He’s right. Besides, this might be our last drink.”
She turned to me, her expression softening. “Come on, Kayn. Cheer up a little. The last thing we need is for you to be all serious in this moment of calm.”
Reluctantly, I took the bottle she offered, eyeing it warily. When I finally took a sip, the harsh, acrid taste hit me like a slap. I coughed, grimacing. “What is this garbage?”
Iris laughed, her voice ringing out clear and bright.
Ikaro shrugged, utterly unbothered. “No idea. I stole it from the city hall cellar. Figured it shouldn’t go to waste.”
“You stole from Solon?” I asked, my eyes widening.
“‘Stole’ is a strong word,” he said, waving me off. “Let’s call it... giving it a second life.”
“Maybe you should grab some cheese too,” Iris teased, shaking her head.
“Not a bad idea,” Ikaro said, grinning. “What do you think, Kayn? Should we make it a full feast?”
“No, we are about to fight and you are thinking of food?” I ask clearly bewildered at his train of thought.

“Yes.” He says sure of himself “Are you not?” he genuine asks me getting a laugh from Iris and a headshake from me not believing it.

As the three of us sat there, the warmth of their presence pushing back the encroaching dread, I took a moment to appreciate just how far we had come together. This bond between us, forged in fire and loss, felt unbreakable—a lifeline in a world that often sought to tear us apart.
“I just realized,” Ikaro said, breaking the silence. “This is probably the first moment we’ve had just the three of us alone since Noor joined up.”
Iris tilted her head, her brows furrowing slightly. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “You’re right.” She leaned back, her gaze drifting upward to the darkening sky. “It’s been... what? A month since we left Helos? Feels like a lifetime.”
“It does,” I agreed quietly, the weight of those weeks pressing on me. The battles fought, the losses endured, and the relentless pursuit of a goal that felt both impossibly far and achingly close had all taken its toll.
I looked at the two of them, the siblings who had become so much more than comrades. “Your father would be proud of you both,” I said softly, my voice tinged with sincerity. “Of everything you’ve done. Of whom you’ve become.”
A melancholic smile tugged at Iris’s lips, her green eyes glistening in the dim light. Ikaro, too, smiled, though his was edged with bittersweet humor. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “The old man would’ve been proud... though he’d probably be chewing me out for stealing this bottle.”
Iris let out a small laugh “That sounds like him,” she said, shaking her head fondly.
Ikaro glanced at me then, his expression softening. “By the way,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “I’m sure he’d be proud of you too, Kayn.”
I froze, the words catching me off guard. Something warm and unfamiliar spread through my chest—gratitude, maybe, or hope. I gave him a small smile, nodding. “Thanks, Ikaro. That means a lot.”
For a brief moment, we allowed ourselves to linger in that fragile space, the memories of Arbos tying us together like an unspoken oath. None of us said it aloud, but I knew we were all thinking the same thing: that we hadn’t lost ourselves, even as the world tried to break us.
But peace was fleeting. The moment shattered as my eyes caught movement in the distance—a sickly green mist rising from the mountains where the cemetery lay. It rolled forward like a tide, ominous and suffocating, bringing with it a chill that seeped into my very bones.
“It’s them,” I said, my voice steady but grave as I rose to my feet. Dawn felt heavier in my hand, “They’re coming.”
The siblings followed my gaze, their faces hardening as the weight of the moment settled over them.
“Go!” I barked, slipping into the role I had been forged for. “You know what to do.”
Iris and Ikaro nodded in unison, their playful banter replaced by fierce determination. They turned and sprinted toward their positions on the left barricade, their figures disappearing into the growing shadows.
As I stood there, watching the mist creep ever closer, I felt the cold wind whipped around me, carrying the faint sound of distant howls. The hour had come, and the storm was upon us. But as I gripped Dawn tighter, I reminded myself of what we had built together—this bond, this purpose. We would stand, not just for survival, but for everything and everyone we had lost.
And we would not falter.

I made my way to the right barricade near the Oracle’s temple, the air thick with tension as I approached Solon and Entinos. The two of them were busy coordinating the militia, readying them for the coming onslaught. Fear was palpable in the air, but so was determination.
“Kayn! We’re ready,” Solon said, his voice steady despite the faint tremor in his hands.
I nodded, stepping up onto a raised platform overlooking the gathered militia. The sight of them—farmers, blacksmiths, merchants—all standing together to defend their home filled me with a quiet sense of awe. This was their city, their families, their future on the line. It was my job to remind them of that and to ignite the fire that would carry them through the storm.
Taking a deep breath, I raised my voice, letting it carry over the restless murmurs of the crowd.
“People of Delphi!” I began, the weight of their eyes pressing on me. “I know you are afraid. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t as well. Fear is natural—it’s human. But it is also proof of what you fight for! That fear, that pounding in your chest, is not weakness. It’s the strength of your love for your families, your home, and your future!”
The murmurs quieted, replaced by a growing stillness. I could see it in their faces—they were listening, truly listening.
“These creatures outside—they are not invincible,” I continued, my voice rising with each word. “They are the dead. Mindless. Soulless. They have no love, no reason, and no unity. But you—you have all of those things! Together, we are stronger than anything they can throw at us!”
The murmurs turned to cheers, a ripple of energy spreading through the militia.
“So, I ask you, not as a leader but as one of you: stand with me tonight! Stand and show the darkness that Delphi belongs to the living!” I raised Dawn high above my head, its blade catching the torchlight. “For Delphi!”
“For Delphi!” the militia roared back, their voices shaking the earth beneath us. They moved into formation with precision, the shield wall locking into place. The archers climbed to higher vantage points, their arrows at the ready. Solon joined the front line without hesitation, a pillar of courage among his people.
I climbed onto a small rooftop with Entinos, the stoic satyr who had become my second set of eyes. Together, we surveyed the battlefield, watching the final preparations.
“You did well,” Entinos said, his deep voice cutting through the distant groans of the undead.
I glanced at him, surprised by the rare compliment. “Didn’t expect you to approve,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks.”
“At first, I thought you were in over your head,” he admitted, his gaze steady and piercing. “But you’ve proven yourself. Let’s see if you can lead just as well in the chaos of battle.”
“You will,” I said with quiet confidence, gripping Dawn tightly.
Then, from the shadows, they came.
The horde emerged from the mist, a tide of rotting corpses stumbling forward with unnatural hunger. Their hollow eyes glowed faintly in the torchlight, and the stench of decay filled the air. The militia wavered, the sight enough to shake even the most resolute hearts.
“Steady!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the fear. “Look at them! They’re just rotting cadavers—slow and mindless. You are better than them. Do not let fear take root!”
The shield wall tightened, the archers drew their strings, and the first wave of undead slammed into the barricade with a sickening crunch.
“ARCHERS! RELEASE!” I bellowed, the command snapping through the night like a whip.
A volley of arrows rained down, puncturing skulls and pinning undead to the ground. But still, they came, relentless in their hunger.
“HOLD!” I called to the shield wall, watching as the undead piled against their shields. The line held firm, the shields locking together like a single impenetrable wall.
I waited, my heart pounding as I waited and watched for the right moment. Then, I saw it—the opening.
“NOW!”
With a roar, the militia pushed forward, shoving the undead back and driving spears and swords through their skulls. The coordinated strikes were swift and precise, exploiting the undead’s sluggish movements.
“KEEP IT UP!” I shouted, my voice ringing with encouragement. “THEY ARE NOTHING AGAINST YOUR MIGHT!”
The militia moved like a single, fluid unit, their trust in themselves and determination overpowering the chaos of the horde. Slowly but surely, the undead fell, their numbers dwindling until the battlefield was littered with their broken forms.
As the last of the creatures collapsed, a cheer erupted from the militia—a triumphant, defiant roar that echoed across the battlefield. The first wave had been defeated, and the people of Delphi stood victorious, their spirits bolstered by the realization that they could fight back and win.
I looked to Entinos, who stood stoic as ever beside me. He glanced at me, his expression unreadable.
“You did well,” he said again, this time with a faint nod of approval.
The battle wasn’t over—not yet. But this was a start, a spark of hope against the darkness. And I intended to see it through to the end.

"It appears they’re regrouping," I observed, my voice steady yet filled with suspicion. Entinos, standing beside me, merely grunted, his stoic expression betraying his doubts. He didn’t trust this fleeting pause in the chaos, and neither did I.
Our doubts turned into dread as Iris emerged from the shadows, rushing toward us. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body battered and bruised from the ferocity of battle. She stumbled, nearly collapsing before I caught her, steadying her with firm hands.
"Whoa, easy there. Are you alright? What happened?" I asked, my tone calm but laced with urgency. I could feel the tremble in her shoulders as she tried to catch her breath.
"Kayn," she gasped, her voice raw with exhaustion. "We need reinforcements! They sent more than we anticipated. Runners—dozens of them—all concentrated on one side. We’re completely overwhelmed."
Her words hit like a hammer, and the realization struck hard. "That means this is a diversion," I said grimly, glancing at Entinos. He nodded in agreement, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. In the distance, another horde approached—this one even more relentless, with a mix of runners and shambling corpses.
The Satyr didn’t hesitate. "GO! I’LL HOLD THEM OFF. COVER THEIR RETREAT!" he roared, drawing his massive two-handed sword. Without waiting for a response, he leapt down to the barricade below, rallying the shield wall. "HOLD THE LINE! DON’T LET THEM THROUGH!" he bellowed, his commanding presence and strong big figure reinvigorating the militia.
I watched as he charged into the fray, his blade slicing through the undead with unrelenting precision. His defiance was a beacon of strength for the defenders, who closed ranks behind him, their shields locking into an unbreakable wall.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, cursing the cunning of the Erebosians. Turning to the archers, I barked, "ARCHERS, WITH ME! SUPPORT THE LEFT BARRICADE!"
Iris and I led the charge, sprinting toward the chaos erupting on the left flank. As we approached, the scene was pure pandemonium. Ikaro and Noor stood their ground, covering the retreat of panicked survivors as they fled toward the inner barricade near the temple. The air was thick with the clash of steel, the screams of the wounded, and the guttural growls of the undead.
"FALL BACK! WE CAN’T HOLD THIS POSITION!" Ikaro commanded, his voice cutting through the air. Survivors scrambled behind him as he fought valiantly, shield-bashing a runner before driving his spear through its skull with ruthless efficiency. His movements were fluid and precise, a testament to his training and resolve.
"NOOR! NOW!" he shouted as another wave of runners surged forward.
Noor closed her eyes, her hands glowing with arcane energy. With a fierce cry, she unleashed a towering wall of fire that roared to life, creating a blazing barrier between the horde and the retreating defenders. The flames consumed the undead, their charred remains collapsing into ash. The heat was searing, a testament to the raw power of her magic.
She smirked at her handiwork, but the moment of triumph was short-lived. A black-fletched arrow pierced the wall of fire and struck her shoulder. Noor cried out in pain, stumbling backward. Blood seeped from the wound, staining her desert colour robes as her face contorted in agony.
"Noor!" Iris gasped, rushing to her side to steady her. Noor gritted her teeth, her jaw set in defiance despite the pain.
"We have to get her out of here!" I shouted, scanning the battlefield for the source of the arrow. My stomach churned as my eyes locked onto a figure emerging from the flames.
Theocritus.