It has now been ten days since the earthquake struck Grimhaven.
The city still feels damaged in strange ways.
Not only physically.
Several towers remain cracked near the upper districts.
Some streets are still partially buried beneath fallen stone and black timber.
The artificial lightning above the citadel occasionally flickers now.
Yesterday one of the thunder machines exploded somewhere beneath the eastern wall.
Nobody seemed especially surprised.
This morning scouts returned from the outer dunes.
By evening the entire citadel already knew.
An armed force is approaching Grimhaven.
Large.
Only three days away.
The atmosphere afterward changed immediately.
Not panic exactly.
Closer to the feeling inside an inn moments before a fight begins.
Too quiet.
Too alert.
Everyone pretending not to notice everyone else listening.
At sunset Lord Nyctharios gathered the city within the central hall of the citadel.
Workers.
Families.
Guards.
Children.
Members of The League.
The chamber was overcrowded enough that some people sat directly on the stone floor.
I stood near the side platform beside Lady Valthyria while trying to look appropriately ominous.
She spent most of the gathering adjusting her sleeves dramatically for no apparent reason.
Then Lord Nyctharios stepped onto the black stone platform.
The room became silent almost immediately.
His cape moved behind him as though responding to invisible wind.
Personally I suspect someone hidden nearby was pulling it with string.
Still…
it looked strangely impressive.
He raised one hand slowly toward the crowd.
Then spoke.
“People of Grimhaven…”
His voice echoed heavily through the chamber.
Lower than usual.
More tired.
“Three days from now…”
He paused.
“…they will come.”
The hall remained completely silent.
Even the children stopped moving.
“They will come carrying banners of righteousness.”
His voice hardened slightly.
“They will come carrying fire and steel and certainty.”
He lowered his hand slowly toward the floor.
“And they will tell themselves they are heroes.”
Somewhere near the back of the chamber someone began crying quietly.
Lord Nyctharios continued speaking.
“They fear this city.”
“They fear these walls.”
“They fear the darkness we gathered here together.”
Then his expression shifted slightly.
Not angrier.
Sadder.
“And because they fear us…”
he said softly,
“…they call us monsters.”
The silence afterward felt heavier than the speech itself.
Then suddenly his voice rose again.
Dramatic enough that several people near me visibly startled.
“But let them come!”
His cape flared behind him again.
Definitely string this time.
“Let the bullies march across our sands believing themselves mighty!”
“Let them bring their armies to our gates!”
“Because the darkness they fear…”
He placed one hand against his chest.
“…is not evil.”
“It is ours.”
The room erupted into applause immediately.
Actual applause.
I still do not fully understand Grimhaven.
Lord Nyctharios raised both hands again dramatically.
“This darkness sheltered us when no one else would.”
“It protected us when the world wished us gone.”
“It remained beside us…”
“…when everyone else turned away.”
Then his voice lowered again.
Quieter this time.
“If necessary…”
he said,
“…I alone will stand before the citadel gates.”
The room became still immediately.
“And with the same darkness that swallowed armies before…”
He clenched one hand slowly.
“…I will protect this city again.”
Before.
That word lingered strangely in the room afterward.
Like part of a story everyone already knew except me.
Then suddenly everyone around me began chanting.
Not loudly at first.
But steadily.
“THE LEAGUE.”
“THE LEAGUE.”
“THE LEAGUE.”
Which honestly felt much more emotionally overwhelming than I expected.
After the gathering ended, preparations throughout the citadel intensified immediately.
Barricades.
Supply routes.
Reinforcing damaged walls.
Moving civilians into deeper shelter levels.
Large crates filled with tools and gunpowder were carried through the corridors constantly.
At first I assumed they were preparing horrifying traps.
Now I suspect most of it is simply construction equipment.
Though admittedly the amount of explosives still feels excessive.
The strangest part is that nobody inside the citadel speaks as though they expect victory.
But they do speak as though they intend to protect the city anyway.
Tonight Lord Nyctharios officially asked me to stand beside The League as its Fourth Pillar once the battle begins.
The Light Bearer.
I still do not know what this title means.
But everyone reacts very seriously whenever it is mentioned.
Apparently my role is to “bless the darkness before war.”
Which somehow feels like an enormous responsibility despite making almost no sense.
So afterward I practiced speeches alone in my room while wearing the black armor prepared for me earlier this week.
The left shoulder piece cracked slightly again while I was turning dramatically toward the mirror.
I repaired it with glue.
Then I continued practicing.
“Do not fear the darkness before you,” I whispered while raising Spathian’s glowing spoon toward my reflection.
“Fear the light capable of revealing what survives inside it.”
I paused afterward.
Actually…
that one was fairly good.
This is becoming deeply concerning.
Later tonight I climbed the upper citadel wall alone.
From there the entire desert looked endless beneath the purple sky.
Broken towers rose from the dunes like black teeth.
Far below, torches moved through the streets while workers continued rebuilding damaged districts even this late into the night.
Someone inside the citadel began playing dramatic organ music again.
Still no one knows where the organ actually is.
And standing there above Grimhaven in full black armor—
watching the city prepare for war—
I realized something equally embarrassing and horrifying.
I genuinely felt proud to stand beside them.
Which is probably not a healthy emotional development.
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