The night grated slowly like a dreadful millstone, hauled by slaves and hopeless cattle. There truly was only one path before him, though it was bleak. His task had forever been to become a legionnaire. He would not abandon that quest for anything, he had bent his body and mind towards it, and would bend further if necessary. He had believed during these brief recent weeks that he could use his unearthed magia to propel his effectiveness in the legion and better serve the Imperator. But now it seemed that the opposite had occurred. The early skepticism of the Octio had come true: he was a liability. He should never have sought power for himself, even to wield it for the Imperium. He ought to know his place–know his destiny, and abide by it.

Beneath him, the ground throbbed with energy as though in response to his pain, but Skippii rejected it. Doing so left him cold and miserable, and he bowed his head and sobbed soundlessly, though try as he might, he could not hide it from Kylinissa.

And to think that he had convinced his companions to accompany him down such a selfish path. He had used them, in reality. He had manipulated Cliae–who was all too eager to please their legio–and Tenoris–whose loyalty was unwavering, even when he should have paused for reflection. He had risked all of their standing amongst the legion, their careers and lives. He had toyed with them, playing as a pretend commander upon the battlefield, attacking innate trees like a child playing with sticks, thinking they were swords. Who was he to know better than a legion's tried and tested tactics? Who was he to try and become more mighty than a mighty legionnaire?

He startled as something touched his shoulder, but looking up, there was Kylinissa's hand. The woman had taken up the stool beside him and was looking down on him with pity.

Turning aside to hide the shame on his face, Skippii cleared his throat. "Please do not console me, I don't deserve it."

"Come now, don't be so foolish."

Skippii laughed spitefully. "Foolish is all I seem to be nowadays."

Kylinissa patted his neck then withdrew her hand. When she spoke, a touch of warmth was in her voice. "You're young. That's normal."

"Not for a legionnaire."

"Oh, you'd be surprised." Kylinissa raised her eyebrows. "I served in the Seventh before the Ninth from a very early age. You see things, as a woman, which men do not. Either that it is a matter of perspective, or that you are the target of them discreetly. Your sins, compared to some which I've seen, pale."

Skippii sighed, allowing himself to relax a little. It wasn't that he agreed with the arcanus' words, but that she had tried to soothe him that made him feel better. Just having an ally made it more bearable.

"I'll do what I must," he said, forcing control over his grief-stricken voice. "I'll control it. Quash it. Repel it. I'll do what I have to to remain in the legion."

Outside a trumpet called, but it did not sound like the morning call. The walls of the tent were dark, and no light seeped through the gap. Confused, they listened as more trumpets sounded an alarm, and there was the sound of movement, the rising of men and the clattering of arms. He leaned against his rope ties, but could not rise to the summons.

"Go see what it is," he said.

Kylinissa bit her lip, and spoke at length. "No. I shall remain here with you. It's my duty now."

Outside, the footsteps of men and rustle of armour passed their tent, heading into the parade ground. Firelight flickered over the walls, then dimmed as it was taken away.

"Just take a quick look."

Relenting, Kylinissa ventured outside, but returned before long. "Two cohorts are gathering, ready to depart. The others are manning the defences."

"We're under attack?" he said, astonished.

"I'm not sure. We are preparing for one, I think." She came and sat beside him. "Tell me about Oyaltun."

"Now?" he stammered. "I can't keep my mind from…" he motioned outside with his chin. "What if my companions need me? What if-"

"Take your mind from the trumpets, legionnaire. For once, ignore your training, because for now, you are not a legionnaire, you are in limbo. You're staying here, with me tonight. Let's pass the time with something more productive. Tell me about your vision. What did you see?"

Reluctantly, Skippii did as she said, recounting his vision, mentioning the details which he knew were important about the Goddesses' appearance and resplendent aura. Kylinissa listened intently, interrupting with frequent questions, sometimes demanding the same information twice, sometimes seeming to mistake something he had said, forcing him to clarify. She showed no expression, no belief in his words, only inquisition; the trained composure of an arcanus.

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The sun rose, and a single trumpet sang without response. Its melody carried over the camp, penetrating the thin walls of their tent, sweet and tuneful–the anthem of the Ninth Legion. Just as the light outside had begun to take on an orange glow, the tent flap was pushed forward. The Octio entered. Skippii expected to see Custos Maritor behind him, but in strode a wholly malevolent figure: Aetheria–head magus of the Coven of Kylin–in the company of three of her warmagi.

"Cyclops, you said, didn't you?" The Octio asked sharply, grabbing his hair and yanking his face up.

Stunned, it took Skippii a moment to reply. "Yes. In the vision. But it felt real."

Two of the warmagi walked behind him and began untying his bounds. Aetheria just watched.

"Has a decision been made?" Kylinissa said cautiously.

"It has," Aetheria answered, her voice cold and unfeminine.

"By whom?" she asked.

"By the Gods."

Skippii was dragged to his feet, and irons clasped around his wrists and elbows. One magi went to unclasp his cloak, but Skippii recoiled. Anger rose to him. "Don't you dare."

"Leave the cloak," the Octio said. "Let it conceal his chains. There are some in the camp who would still see him reinstated."

"Some, such as the Primus," Kylinissa said. "Your superior."

"This matter is beyond the legion now," Aetheria spoke flatly. "The wretch's dreams came true. Or, he brought them into truth. Or, he was part of that truth himself." She smiled pleasantly, though her eyes were intense. "Whatever the matter, we shall discover it. He shall repent."

"We were attacked?" Skippii asked.

"Oh yes," the Octio said sarcastically. "None the wiser, are you?"

"So what?" Kylinissa argued. "The camp was raided? We are at war? That's normal. What does it have to do with him?"

The Octio laughed and shook his head as one regards an impetulant fool. "Oh, how easily deceived you were, you, whose job it was to root out deceivers."

"Speak not in riddles and do not ridicule me." Kylinissa drew up to the Octio in anger. Though she was a head shorter than the legionnaire, her anger seemed to swell above her stature. "Answer the question, legio. What proof have you? For it has been my task to watch him, and I shan't abandon my duty."

"Cyclops." Aetheria's voice sucked the air from the room, quenching Kylinissa's anger. "Just as the boy foretold."

Skippii met her eye, and for a moment, thought that his saving grace had arrived. He had been right, a monster had invaded their camp. He was exonerated…

But then why was he being placed in chains? And where was the Custos Maritor to authorise his release?

"It was," he said. "But then I was right?"

"Right…" Aetheria mused. "Why of course you knew. That much is plain… Oh, how pitiful is this facade, to turn fact into a lie itself. Won't you come with the grace of an adversary bested, rather than the scorn of some deceiver?"

Her voice rose suddenly like a storm, battering the walls of the tent. "Enough. I shan't suffer the lies of the heretic, nor allow them to infest the minds of my allies. Speak again and you shall be gagged and paraded, and I shan't spare your honour, not for the safety of those who might come to your aid."

As Skippii was pushed from the tent, the magi closed around him with the Octio at his side. The man grabbed his bicep and jostled him roughly, hissing in his ear. "The monsters attacked, just as you planned. Just as you knew it would happen. Does that satisfy you? Because it satisfies me to know what punishment is coming your way."

"What? When?"

Down the path before the tents of Cohort II and III, Skippii was led. About them, slaves rushed on morning duties. Legionnaires patrolled in their companeights, transferring from stations or providing reinforcements, Skippii could not tell, but they were armed and armoured, ready for a fight. He tried to spot familiar faces amongst the men, but the legion was enormous, and the chances slim.

"We were lucky to have stopped you when we did," the Octio continued. "Or maybe you're less powerful than you think. Those men you tried to burn, they survived without a scratch. But quite a distraction you served. Those monsters whom you serve killed fifty men." He jabbed Skippii in the ribs to punctuate his point. "Each more man than you."

"Fifty?" he said, astounded.

The Octio's eyes were wide with hate, but he took a moment to observe Skippii's reaction. "That's right. Well done. Quite a toll."

Skippii's legs felt weak beneath him. The magi pushed him forward to keep pace. "Which cohort? How?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"How?" he asked more forcefully. At this point, he had nothing to lose. He let his temper rise. "Tell me."

The Octio pursed his lips and looked away. Ahead, about to pass them, was a superior legionnaire with white trim to his cloak, tailed by two slaves. With a sudden burst of defiance, Skippii wrenched free of the Octio's grasp and barged past the warmagi to stand before the superior. "Which cohort was attacked, superior?"

The man paused, confused, as the magi dragged him back into their circle, this time keeping firm hands upon him. Skippii craned his head as he was dragged away, catching the superior's eye. "Please tell me."

The superior just stared, dumbfounded. The Coven submitting a legionnaire was a rare sight reserved for only the most blatant and egregious heresy. Kylinissa–who had followed after their procession–stayed behind to question the superior. At a stable, the magi mounted their tall stallions while the Octio lifted Skippii onto a mule tethered to one of the legion's warhorses. Led down the busy path at a slow pace, Kylinissa managed to catch up to them at the camp's outer palisade.

"The Seventh," she said from the periphery. "They were ambushed in the hills. Monsters fell upon them. The Eighth and Ninth have been sent to relieve them. The toll exceeds a century, but there may be more."

And they think I'm responsible, or involved somehow, Skippii thought in despair. They left the camp behind and the jurisdiction of Legion IX, and ventured into the wild in the company of magi who thought him a traitor, and no doubt had their own retribution in mind.

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