Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 83: 81. The Enemy I know

Read chapter 83 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

I, Willow of the Fae, have lived 5,097 years. But today may be my last day… again. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/e36e5201-b5f5-4e9c-bdf0-03b5ea1f4af9 Angry dark clouds hide the midday sun over the city of Stonebrook. Their thunderous muttering shakes the heavens, casting a fine mist of rain over its residents. I see them as I approach: from the north, a vast queue of wagons hurriedly packed, families with worried faces and wailing children. Many more walk alongside with heavy packs slung over their shoulders. The city guards walk among them, urging them on. Fools . If they knew what was coming, they would cast aside their pointless trinkets and heirlooms and run. Before long, the blood of those who remain will paint these streets red. Ren’s horses are nearly galloping, the mostly empty wagon shuddering and creaking behind them as its wheels strike uneven cobblestones. Her arrival is near, and I have no time to waste. Now all that is left is to discover which future my actions have brought about. Have my many years of effort and careful planning changed my fate? Or will we all die and perpetuate this doomed cycle… again? Clad in mithril, Griswald’s knights guard the gates into the city. They eye me warily, but step aside and wave me through. Inside, the city is empty save for a passing patrol. Arcadian mages wearing mithril chain mail and helmets search for civilians yet to evacuate. Not a hearth or crystal lamp is lit. Even so, the distant rattle of wagons, the lowing of oxen, and hurried voices still drift on the wind from the city’s far side. At the gate to Griswald’s manor, the knights once again step aside and wave me through. They seem to have been expecting me, but I sense worry in their eyes and tension in their posture. Had they not been wearing mithril, I would be able to read their fears and desires as easily as a book. Though it is fair to assume they have already been warned about what is coming. Mud sloshes beneath our wagon, and the pitter-patter of rain grows louder as I ride the final stretch toward Griswald’s manor. Atop a hill to my right, the keep looms over Stonebrook. I can sense a large amount of mana being gathered there. Lightning cracks overhead, casting the seven figures waiting at the end of the road in flickering blue light. Lord Griswald stands at the front beside Gavin and Nickles, both clad in full armor. Nearby are Griswald’s elf servant, Silfy, and Ren’s healing instructor, Lady Muara, each wearing cloaks woven with mithril. The kobold Jade trembles as she grips her staff, her right eye glowing red in the dim light beneath a mithril helmet and cloak fitted for her small frame. Beside her stands Griswald’s horned, red-skinned demon servant, Sati, crimson light burning in her eyes as she gazes silently toward the horizon. “But you’ll need me…” I hear Silfy protest, placing an imploring hand on Griswald’s arm. Despite the conviction in her voice, she appears exhausted, no doubt due to the noticeable swell of her abdomen. “Enough, Silfy!” Griswald snaps harshly, pulling his arm away from her. “I need you to be safe. Go with Nickles, now!” Silfy’s eyes linger on him, lips parting as if to speak, as Sir Nickles gently takes her hand and guides her away. “Take my wagon. You don’t have much time,” I call to them. As one, the others turn toward me as I bring the wagon to a stop before them. “Why have you come here?” Griswald growls accusingly as I step down from the wagon. His massive ham-hock hands white-knuckled around his staff. “You brought this monster to my home, to kill my people.” “If I hadn’t come now, that monster would have still laid waste to your lands before coming for me and the prince,” I respond calmly, handing the reins to Nickles. I turn to face the others. They watch me with a mixture of anger and apprehension. All except Jade, who, despite the fear in her mismatched eyes, brightens slightly at the sight of me and offers a small wave. “Lady Willow, I—” Ga