Inside the small, simple wooden house, Henry sat across from Laurent. Outside, the wind howled through the barren rock crevices, bringing the bitter, skin-cutting cold of the cursed land, But inside, the weak flame in the old stone fireplace wasn't strong enough to chase away the frost invading Henry's soul.

He still held Mythris's Stormbinder tightly, but its weight at that moment was nothing compared to the emotional burden he was carrying, the truths that could shatter every belief and ideal he had ever held.

He looked at Laurent, the legendary hero of Zephyros, one of the illustrious Four Divine Monarchs, a man he and countless young people in Aerion had once admired and revered like a living saint. Now, he stood before him with a different identity, a high-ranking member of the Sanctuary Enclave, a man behind the schemes that could plunge his own homeland into a tragic fate.

The image of the noble hero Larsus in his shining golden armor, holding the mighty Calibur, bravely fighting demons to protect innocent people. And the image of Laurent, the man who had accepted the "sacrifice" of an entire city. These two images clashed and tore at Henry's mind, leaving him feeling lost and confused.

"Why?"

The question burst out like an accusation. He stepped forward, the old wooden floorboards creaking under his feet, the Stormbinder in his hand trembling. His eyes pierced into Laurent's empty ones, trying to find an answer, a reason he could accept for the betrayal he had just witnessed.

"Why Aerion? Why did you, a Divine Monarch of Zephyros, a man who once stood before the altar of the Archangels and swore to protect every inch of land and every citizen of your homeland, become so heartless? How could you cause such a tragedy for the place you once called home?"

His voice grew louder with fury. He remembered the stories, the statues, the reverence that all of Zephyros had for this hero.

"Glory, power, strength, the respect of a multitude... You once had all of that in Zephyros, things that countless others would not even dare to dream of in a lifetime. So what made you give it all up, accept the reputation of a cold-blooded killer, and live a silent, lonely, and dangerous life by joining the Sanctuary Enclave, only to return and destroy the land you once shed blood to protect?"

Laurent sat down in a rickety wooden chair by the fireplace. The flickering firelight illuminated the wrinkles and weariness on his face. He looked at Henry, no longer with a distant indifference, but with a deep sadness and extreme exhaustion.

"Do you think I wanted to do those things?" Laurent spoke, his low voice no longer carrying the icy sharpness of Iskadra, but a bitter, indescribable sorrow and helplessness. He paused, letting his question pierce deep into Henry's mind.

"Do you think I can be happy or at peace seeing Aerion, the city I once loved and fought to protect, engulfed in flames and chaos? Seeing innocent people, who once praised and hailed the name of Larsus, bleed and die unjustly? Seeing my old comrades, the brave Zephyros soldiers I once fought beside and led through so many life-or-death battles, fall in a betrayal?"

He shook his head wearily, a bitter, self-mocking smile on his lips. "No, Henry. I am not a bloodthirsty monster or a heartless person. Every innocent life lost in Aerion, every sorrowful tear shed on those ruined, desolate streets, is like a knife that cuts deep into the conscience of the man who was once Larsus."

Larsus looked straight into Henry's eyes, and for the first time, Henry saw in them not just indifference, but a pain even deeper than his own.

"Do you think I don't know that feeling, Henry? Do you think I have forgotten what it was like to see my comrades fall in Iskadra?" His voice grew deeper, carrying the weight of a thousand graves.

"I once stood in your place. I once roared and questioned fate just as you are doing now. But then I realized that our cries are too small compared to this world. There are some enemies that simple courage and sacrifice cannot defeat. Sometimes, to save the entire forest, we are forced to accept the sacrifice of a few trees, even if they are the trees we love the most."

"Sacrifice?"

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Henry screamed, the emotions he had bottled up for so long bursting from his chest. He lost his usual calm and restraint. Fury raged within him, drowning out the howling wind outside. His scream echoed through the small wooden house, louder than the wind. He gripped his sword's hilt tightly, his confusion gone, replaced by a burning accusation.

"Sacrifice for what? For the so-called 'balance' of the Sanctuary Enclave? A balance bought with the blood and tears of tens of thousands, millions of innocent people?"

He took another step, closing the distance between them, his voice growing louder and more bitter.

"You talk about the hidden threats that the world of Tehra faces, about enemies that nations and orthodox churches are unaware of or are not strong enough to deal with. So what are these threats, really? Are they so fearsome that we have to sacrifice an entire city, sacrifice the honor of a national hero that an entire generation revered, sacrifice the trust and lives of countless people, just to be able to deal with them?"

He stopped, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Images of the ruined streets, scattered bodies, and the empty eyes of Aerion's citizens all came back to him, like knives twisting in his heart.

"Or are those just flowery excuses for the Sanctuary Enclave's ruthless, inhumane actions, for your 'standing above all,' and for your disregard for the lives of others?"

Henry's mind was in turmoil, a tangled mess he couldn't unravel. He remembered the kind face of his adoptive mother, who had given him a home and unconditional love, and was now forever buried. He remembered the hearty laugh and determined eyes of Jacobs, whom he considered an older brother and a respected mentor, who had to endure a disgusting mutation and then die tragically right before his eyes. And all the other anonymous Zephyros soldiers, all the innocent people who had died in the attack on Aerion.

Why did they die? For the dark schemes and selfish calculations of the Black Societies? For the bloodthirsty madness of the Necrofear Beleth? Or was it for a "larger game," a mysterious "Plan" that they knew nothing about and had no right to choose, a plan that people like Larsus, the members of the Sanctuary Enclave, were secretly orchestrating from the shadows, treating their lives like cheap pawns?

He felt a profound indignation surge in his chest, a fierce rebellion against the cruel philosophy of the Sanctuary Enclave, an organization that gave itself the right to decide the fate of an entire world. But at the same time, he couldn't deny the truth in Laurent's words.

This world was too complex, the threats too great, far beyond anything he could imagine. Were those sacrifices, however painful, truly "necessary" to protect the survival of all of Tehra? He didn't know. And that not-knowing, that confusion, made him suffer and torment himself even more.

Laurent looked at Henry, letting the young man's fury and pain slowly subside, like a storm that had just passed, leaving behind desolation and silence. He understood those feelings because he himself had been through them, had wrestled with the same questions throughout his long years. Then he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of great secrets and of choices from which there was no turning back.

"The world of Tehra is much bigger and older than you think. And the threats it faces every day, every hour, are far beyond any concept of war or disaster that you, ordinary people, have ever known or experienced." He stopped, his deep eyes piercing into Henry's mind, as if he wanted the young man to truly understand the harsh truth he was about to reveal.

"What your nations and your orthodox churches often call enemies, the notorious Black Societies, the ferocious mutated monsters, the dangerous criminals like Beleth, all of them are, in reality, just pawns, superficial manifestations, puppets being pulled by the strings of a conflict that has been going on for a long time."

Henry almost couldn't believe his ears. Beleth, the legendary Necrofear who had spread terror throughout Tehra, was just a pawn?

Laurent continued, his voice becoming more and more somber and distant, as if he were talking about things that did not belong to the mortal world.

"Beneath the fragile, false facade of the order and civilization you are trying to maintain, in the deepest darkness of the sky and of realms you don't even know, there are ancient entities, beings with powers that have never been recorded. They are constantly trying to invade, conquer, or, more simply, to plunge this world into complete chaos and destruction." He walked to the small window, looking out. The snow was white and the wind was howling. He looked into the void he had just mentioned.

"They have no specific form that you can cut with a sword, no clear objective that you can negotiate with words. They are the embodiment of primordial chaos, of the most ancient fears in the soul of every creature, of a void that is waiting to swallow all life and hope."

He stopped for a moment, looking directly into Henry's serious and attentive eyes. His eyes seemed to bore into the core of the young man's soul, trying to convey the bitter truth that he had to face and accept for so many years.

"The Sanctuary Enclave was founded in the Fourth Epoch, not to rule the world, not to fight for power or to seek fleeting glory." His voice became deeper and more distant, as if echoing from an ancient past. "We are the silent gatekeepers, standing on the border between light and shadow."

He took a step closer to Henry, the pressure from him making the air in the small wooden house even more suffocating. "We have to make choices that no one would dare to even think of, and perform actions that the entire world will condemn and curse, just to keep the weak, flickering flame of life in Tehra from being extinguished by cataclysms."

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