Chapter One - The Gathering

Joshua, a powerful and reclusive sorcerer, lives in self-imposed exile within a quiet Shadow, far removed from both Amber and the Courts of Chaos. Though known to the locals as a figure of immense arcane ability and one best left undisturbed, his solitude is unexpectedly broken when a delegation from a nearby village seeks his aid. The villagers report disturbing phenomena surrounding an old castle not far from Joshua’s estate - terrifying screams heard at night, an oppressive aura of dread settling over the land, and the castle’s lord gone missing for days. While Joshua suspects some minor magical anomaly or mundane fear at play, he agrees to investigate, expecting little of consequence.

 

Upon approaching the castle, however, Joshua’s finely attuned senses reveal something far more significant. Invisible threads of power stretch outward from the castle, spanning across Shadow itself - an unmistakable sign that the disturbances are not confined to this locale but are the echoes of a much larger, cross-Shadow event. Realising the source lies elsewhere, Joshua turns his attention to the flows of power and traces them through the currents of Shadow, eventually arriving at a place called Malkeeva.

 

From a hillside in this unfamiliar Shadow, he observes a squat fortress, uncannily similar to the castle near his home, nestled in a valley below. Advancing toward it is a sizeable army, its banners and formation unmistakably Chaosian in origin, and their purpose clearly violent. Joshua watches, calculating, knowing that such a force spells doom for whatever lies in their path. But as he surveys the scene, he becomes aware that he is not the only outsider drawn to Malkeeva by the disturbance. Others have arrived - figures of power whose presence will complicate whatever is to come.

 

Kyle, son of Princess Fiona of Amber, was enjoying a rare moment of peace within Terra Prime, the high-tech personal Shadow he had meticulously shaped to his liking. His respite was abruptly interrupted by a Trump contact from his mother. Fiona, ever poised but clearly pressed for time, wasted no words. She instructed Kyle to return to Amber immediately and present himself to King Random. She offered little in the way of explanation, only stating that she was currently occupied with matters of great urgency - though she gave no indication of their nature - and that she would not be available to assist the King directly.

 

Instead, Fiona passed the responsibility to Kyle, trusting in his talents and judgment to act in her stead. She informed him that a visitor from the Courts of Chaos had arrived in Amber that very morning: a petite, striking young woman named Corin. Random, wary of her sudden appearance and possible motives, had requested that one of the more magically adept members of the family be assigned to deal with her. Fiona made it clear that Kyle was to take charge of Corin - discreetly uncover her intentions, manage her presence within the castle, and, if necessary, escort her away.

 

Before the Trump contact ended, Fiona added one final piece of information. There were troubling reports from Shadow - something about a Chaosian army laying waste to a distant realm. Random, she implied, suspected a connection between this incursion and Corin’s arrival. It would fall to Kyle to investigate the matter fully and ensure Amber’s interests were safeguarded.

 

Upon Kyle’s return to Amber, he was immediately summoned to a private audience with King Random. The King, clearly agitated, wasted little time in outlining the growing crisis. An army bearing the marks of the Courts of Chaos had been reported in a distant Shadow, its forces actively laying waste to the realm. While the full details remained scarce, Random’s concern stemmed not just from the army’s presence, but from what it represented: a potential breach of the fragile treaties established after the Patternfall War. The Shadow in question - Malkeeva - lay just beyond the midpoint between Order and Chaos, but still well within what Random considered the sphere of Amber’s influence. That proximity alone was enough to alarm him.

 

Kyle was given a clear directive: travel to Malkeeva and determine the nature of the incursion. Before departing, however, Random instructed him to make a detour to the castle’s guest quarters. There, Kyle would find the Chaosian visitor Fiona had mentioned - a young woman named Corin who had arrived in Amber earlier that same day. Random, distrustful of coincidences, strongly suspected that her presence and the military action in Malkeeva might be linked. He wanted her out of Amber quickly, but not without first uncovering who she was, what she wanted, and how she might fit into the unfolding events.

 

Kyle was cautioned to be discreet. Corin had expressed an interest in Amber and its ruling family, but Random warned him to guard the realm’s secrets carefully. Corin was to be Kyle’s responsibility for as long as she remained in Amber, and the King made it plain that any consequences of her presence would fall squarely on Kyle’s shoulders.

 

To aid him in his task, Random assigned Caine to accompany him. Not only would Caine serve as a seasoned presence and voice of caution, but he also held a distinct tactical advantage: having recently visited Malkeeva, he carried a mental impression of the place. With it, Kyle could quickly render a Sketch Trump of the Shadow, dramatically shortening the time needed to reach their destination. The mission, now clearly a matter of high priority, was underway.

 

Corin, a poised and enigmatic young woman from the Courts of Chaos, had come to Amber with a singular purpose: to uncover the truth of her bloodline. She believed herself to be kin to the royal family of Amber, though the exact nature of her lineage remained a mystery - even to her. Her journey was not merely diplomatic curiosity, but a deeply personal quest to discover to whom she was most directly connected within the ancient and powerful House of Oberon.

 

When Kyle and Caine met her in the guest quarters, the exchange was brief but telling. Corin was courteous yet inquisitive, and Kyle, ever perceptive, saw an opportunity. Rather than allow her to remain in Amber under watch, he made a swift and practical decision. By inviting Corin to accompany him and Caine to Malkeeva, he could both remove a potential liability from the castle and learn more about her intentions in the relative isolation of a shared mission.

 

Corin, intrigued and untroubled by the abrupt proposal, accepted. With Caine providing a mental image of the distant Shadow, Kyle quickly sketched a Trump of Malkeeva. Within moments, the trio linked hands, and with the shimmering pull of Trump energy, they stepped through the card and vanished - bound for a land teetering on the edge of conflict, and a mystery that none of them yet fully understood.

 

The Trump delivered Kyle, Caine, and Corin to a windswept hillside in the Shadow of Malkeeva. Below them stretched a broad valley, at the heart of which stood a squat, imposing castle. From the south, an army approached in tight formation - its banners and dark, warlike bearing leaving little doubt of its intent. The air was thick with tension and the scent of magic, but before the trio could even begin to exchange thoughts on the situation unfolding before them, another figure arrived.

 

A rider emerged from the shifting veil of Shadow, mounted and composed, bearing the unmistakable signs of Chaos. It was Joshua, though unknown to them at that moment, and his sudden appearance instantly set nerves on edge. Both Kyle and Caine stepped into alert postures, reading the stranger’s presence as a potential escalation.

 

The initial exchange of words was measured but cautious. Each side probed for answers, but quickly it became clear: neither party had summoned the army below, nor did they know who occupied the castle it threatened. The situation was more complicated than any of them had anticipated.

 

Caine, never one to hide his instincts, made his mistrust of the Chaos Lord plainly known, his hand never straying far from his weapon. Kyle, by contrast, remained composed, observing Joshua with a calculating eye. He recognised the need for restraint - hostilities here could ignite more than just a skirmish in a backwater Shadow. The mystery remained unsolved, but already, alliances and suspicions were beginning to take shape.

 

Kyle, ever the strategist, quickly took control of the situation. He kept Caine focused, recognising that whatever force lay within the castle was no mere anomaly - it was potent, active, and escalating. His heightened senses, attuned to the currents of Shadow and magic, confirmed what he had already begun to suspect: some kind of ritual was underway, one of extraordinary magnitude. The power radiating from within the fortress was not just localised - it reverberated through Shadow itself, a clear sign that this was no ordinary sorcery. Something was being summoned or unleashed, and the energy was cresting toward a climax.

 

Given the army’s timing and its Chaosian origins, it seemed logical to assume the two events were connected. Whether the army was here to stop the ritual, protect it, or exploit its outcome remained unclear. But the convergence of forces - the castle’s rising power and the encroaching Chaos host - spoke of deliberate purpose, not coincidence.

 

Joshua, Kyle, and Caine each probed the others with carefully worded questions, attempting to divine motivations and allegiances without revealing too much of their own. Yet both sides were guarded, unwilling to lay bare their intentions in such an uncertain theatre. Despite the shared mystery, the conversation yielded little. What united them for now was mutual suspicion - and the growing certainty that whatever was happening in Malkeeva, it would soon reach a breaking point.

 

As Joshua maintained a tense standoff with Kyle and Caine, Corin quietly turned her attention elsewhere. Drawing upon the primal power of the Logrus, she extended her tendrils into the castle, threading them through stone and Shadow alike. Her aim was to trace the surging magical energy back to its source - to uncover who or what was behind the powerful ritual they all felt resonating through Malkeeva. Joshua, himself attuned to the currents of Chaos, noticed her use of the Logrus but said nothing, observing with interest.

 

Within moments, Corin’s tendrils found their target: the ritual’s origin point lay deep beneath the castle. There, at the heart of an ancient chamber, a lone woman stood at the centre of the swirling power, chanting in an unfamiliar cadence as she guided the culmination of an immense magical rite. But just as Corin’s tendrils brushed the threshold of that hidden sanctum, something extraordinary occurred. The woman, sensitive to the fabric of power around her, sensed the intrusion - despite Corin’s caution and skill.

 

With a sharp break in her incantation, she abruptly ceased the ritual. Alarmed, she surged up from the depths of the castle, bursting through the corridors and ascending to the battlements. From the outer walls she began shouting commands, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade, as she sought to rally her followers and secure the castle against whatever threat had made contact. Corin, still watching, realised she had been noticed - but more than that, she had drawn the attention of a woman clearly not without power of her own.

 

From the far side of the castle - the one opposite the direction from which the Chaosian army advanced - the great gates creaked open. A lone rider galloped forth, bearing neither weapon nor threat, but urgency in his bearing. He crossed the valley floor at speed, approaching the group on the hillside. Drawing near, he reined in and addressed them with deference. His message was simple but compelling: his Lady, who resided within the castle, extended an invitation for the visitors to join her inside. There, he assured them, they could speak in safety and away from the shadow of the approaching army.

 

Kyle and Caine exchanged a glance, silently weighing the risks, but ultimately agreed. With Corin at their side, they followed the messenger down the slope toward the stronghold. Joshua, however, did not move. Instead, he remained mounted, watching as the others descended. Then, deliberately, he reached into his saddlebag and retrieved a carefully folded banner. With practiced ease, he conjured a makeshift pole from the ambient matter of Shadow, affixed the standard to it, and let it unfurl in the breeze.

 

The banner bore the unmistakable sigils of Chaos - though their specific significance remained obscure to both Kyle and Caine. They could tell only that it held weight, power, and meaning beyond their understanding. With the standard raised, Joshua spurred his mount forward, but not toward the castle. Instead, he veered southward, cantering directly toward the ranks of the Chaosian army advancing through the valley below. His intent was unmistakable: he meant to confront them. Alone.

 

From the side of the castle furthest from the advancing Chaosian army, the heavy gates slowly swung open. A lone rider emerged at speed, galloping across the open ground toward the observers on the hillside. Upon reaching them, the horseman brought his mount to a controlled halt and offered a courteous bow. In measured tones, he conveyed an invitation from his Lady within the castle - she wished to speak with them, and had offered them safe passage inside her walls to do so.

 

Kyle and Caine exchanged a brief look, silently calculating the risks and implications of accepting such an offer. Deciding that the opportunity to learn more outweighed the immediate danger, they agreed and began to follow the rider, bringing Corin along with them.

 

Joshua, however, did not move. He remained still in his saddle, watching the others descend toward the keep. Then, with deliberate precision, he reached into one of his saddlebags and retrieved a folded banner. With a flick of his wrist and a whisper of power, he conjured a simple pole from raw Shadow, affixed the banner, and let it unfurl. The symbol it bore was unmistakably of Chaos - an ancient and authoritative design - but neither Kyle nor Caine could interpret its exact meaning. It stirred something in them, something old and uneasy, but gave away no clear allegiance.

 

Without a word, Joshua wheeled his horse and set off - not toward the castle, but down the hillside toward the Chaosian army itself. His pace was steady, his posture calm, and his intent unmistakable. He was going to confront the army alone, bearing a banner they might recognise - and perhaps even fear.

 

Within the fortified walls of the castle, Kyle, Corin, and Caine are led through stone corridors and into a grand chamber where their host awaits. There they meet Lady Alesha - a strikingly beautiful woman who carries herself with quiet authority. Though outwardly composed and welcoming, it takes only a moment for the trio to sense something far more extraordinary. With the aid of their respective powers, they swiftly discern the truth: Alesha possesses the Blood of Amber.

 

The revelation adds a layer of complexity to an already volatile situation. Alesha, unbothered by their scrutiny, speaks with purpose. She explains that she is in the midst of a great and dangerous undertaking - a ritual meant to summon a being she calls the “Saviour,” a figure prophesied to deliver her people from the Chaosian army now encamped beyond the valley. Her words are fervent, her conviction absolute. It becomes clear she is not acting alone; the castle thrums with arcane energy, and her followers move with the disciplined focus of those who truly believe.

 

Faced with the potential consequences of interfering - both politically and magically - Kyle chooses restraint. Though uneasy with the nature and scale of the ritual, he recognises that a direct confrontation could derail whatever fragile balance remains. Instead, he, Corin, and Caine watch carefully, their guard high. They do not yet know whether Alesha is saviour or threat, but they are ready to act should the need arise. For now, they allow the summoning to proceed.

 

The ritual reached its crescendo as arcane forces gathered to a blinding peak. With a deafening crack and a brilliant eruption of light, the energy was unleashed. A shockwave rippled outward, accompanied by a burst of acrid smoke and the distinct scent of ozone. When the haze began to clear, a figure lay at the centre of the dais - naked, motionless, and wreathed in rising steam.

 

At once, Kyle and Corin turned their enhanced sight upon the figure. What they saw defied all known categories of power. This was no mere conjuring, no construct born of Chaos or a manifestation of Pattern. The being radiated pure, unaligned potency. When viewed through the lenses of their respective Realities - Logrus for Corin, Pattern for Kyle - the figure did not align with either. Instead, his power appeared as something wholly other: immense, focused, and astonishingly pure.

 

A brilliant white fire enveloped his form, dancing across his skin in delicate, flickering patterns. The flames did not burn him, but obscured his features entirely, as though reality itself was reluctant to reveal too much. To the watching eyes of the Amberites, this was not just a man - but something elemental. Something new. Something neither side of the great cosmic divide had yet claimed.

 

As the ritual’s aftermath settled and the newly summoned figure lay shrouded in white flame, they turned their attention to the environment itself. Their heightened senses picked up more than just the echo of power from the summoning - there was something embedded in the very fabric of the Shadow. It became apparent that the land itself had played a vital role in fuelling the ritual. The dais upon which the figure had appeared was not ordinary stone, but a refined form of the native rock found throughout Malkeeva. On closer inspection, the material revealed a dense network of fine, metallic filaments woven through its structure - strange, luminous veins that pulsed faintly with latent energy.

 

This was no mundane mineral. The matter of this Shadow was inherently charged, suffused with a potential unlike anything they had encountered elsewhere. Alesha, still breathless from the ritual’s completion, explained its properties. In small quantities, the material was inert and harmless, almost unimpressive. But when gathered in massive quantities and properly prepared by one with the right knowledge, its power could multiply exponentially. It was this refined substance - native, arcane, and unique - that had served as the ritual’s foundation and power source.

 

Recognising its potential, they made a pragmatic decision. Before departing, they would take a chest filled with the refined material back to Amber for further study. If its properties proved stable across Shadow - or near the poles of Reality - it could prove invaluable.

 

It was also now clear that the ritual had not drawn on either the Pattern or the Logrus. The immense release of energy had been pulled instead toward something else entirely - toward a fundamental node of True Power. This, they realised, was what had drawn the mysterious being - the Saviour - into existence. His essence resonated with neither of the great poles, placing him outside the known balance of Order and Chaos. He was something new. Something Real.

 

Outside the castle walls, the Chaosian army had begun its assault in earnest. Siege engines roared and ranks of twisted soldiers advanced relentlessly, overwhelming the castle’s defenders with sheer numbers and brutal force. Within the keep, the atmosphere grew tense as the defenders faltered. Desperation etched itself across Alesha’s face - her carefully wrought ritual had succeeded, but the figure she had summoned, the so-called Saviour, remained unconscious and unresponsive.

 

Frantic, Alesha implored him to awaken, her voice rising with each failed attempt. Seeing her distress and sensing the urgency of the moment, Corin stepped forward. Reaching into the depths of her connection to the Logrus, she extended its tendrils toward the slumbering figure, delicately brushing his aura in an attempt to stir him into consciousness. The response was immediate and volatile. Corin recoiled in pain, mentally singed by the contact, but her effort succeeded - the Saviour stirred.

 

His eyes opened, glowing faintly beneath the shimmering flames that still danced across his skin. Alesha, overcome with relief, began pressing him with questions: Who was he? What power did he wield? How would he defeat the enemy at the gates? But the Saviour, rising slowly to his feet, could offer no answers. He remembered nothing - no name, no past, no purpose. His mind was a blank slate, his identity lost in whatever reality he had been summoned from.

 

Unshaken, Alesha gave him a name: William - chosen after a legendary saint of her land, a symbol of hope and divine strength. With increasing urgency, she pleaded with him to aid in the battle outside. At last, moved by her conviction and sensing the destruction unfolding around them, William agreed to see for himself.

 

Escorted to the castle walls, William gazed out across the battlefield. The situation was dire. The fortress was on the verge of collapse, its defenders scattered and bloodied. Kyle, Caine, and Corin realised that they could no longer stand idle. Regardless of William’s origins, the castle housed one of Amber’s blood, and they would not allow it to fall so easily.

 

Together, the trio joined the fray. With their combined might - Kyle’s refined Trump artistry, Caine’s deadly martial precision, and Corin’s potent Logrus sorcery - they turned the tide. Chaosian forces began to falter, their ranks pushed back in disarray. The battle teetered on the edge of rout, though the army was not yet fully broken.

 

As the dust began to settle and the defenders regained their footing, Corin suddenly froze. A vision surged through her mind - a different battle in a distant place, suffused with green light. A dark, jagged scar cut across a foreign landscape, and two forces clashed along its edges. The imagery was vivid but fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had come, leaving Corin shaken and silent, her thoughts clouded with foreboding.

 

Realising that the tide of battle has turned against them, the Chaosian commanders’ resort to a final, catastrophic measure. The sorcerers serving the Lord of Chaos - desperate and vengeful - begin the unthinkable: they call upon the raw, unrestrained force of Primal Chaos to consume the entire Shadow. It is not a tactic of victory, but of obliteration, meant to deny any spoils to their enemies and exact a final price for defeat.

 

They watch in grim silence as the ritual unfolds from afar. Though the Chaos army has been battered, it is still too numerous for a direct assault to succeed, and the sorcerers are too deeply embedded within its ranks to reach in time. There is little they can do but brace for impact. Yet something strange occurs. The summoning does not proceed with the usual terrifying speed. The invocation of Primal Chaos stutters and slows, and when it finally manifests, its corrosive force does not immediately devour the landscape.

 

Instead, the land itself pushes back.

 

The very earth of Malkeeva - infused with that mysterious, metallic essence they had earlier discovered - resists the unravelling. It delays the inevitable, buying precious moments. But the outcome is never in doubt: Primal Chaos, once summoned, cannot be undone. It will consume everything, eventually.

 

In that narrowing window of opportunity, Corin acts. Calling upon the full depth of her Logrus mastery and unparalleled command of Prime Sorcery, she attempts a feat that borders on the impossible: the division of a Shadow. Channelling her will into the metaphysical fabric of Malkeeva, she weaves power into the core of its essence, threading magic and chaos together in a lattice of blinding complexity.

 

With a final surge, she rends the Shadow in two.

 

The castle and its surroundings are sheared away from the doomed landscape, duplicated into a stable and untouched Shadow, safe from the encroaching entropy. In that same moment, the spellwork unravels violently among the Chaosian sorcerers. The backlash of Corin’s magic slams into them like a stormfront, killing most of those responsible for summoning Primal Chaos in a burst of blinding light and sound.

 

What remains is silence - the Shadow outside consumed, the survivors transported, and the balance of power irrevocably shifted by Corin’s daring act.

 

With the immediate threat averted and the castle - along with much of the Shadow - now safely anchored in a duplicate realm beyond the reach of Primal Chaos, they began to turn their thoughts toward Amber. The mystery of the summoned being, William, remained unresolved, and the presence of a previously unknown Amber-blooded figure like Alesha raised as many questions as it answered. The conclusion was obvious: both would need to be brought back for further scrutiny.

 

Alesha, however, had no intention of leaving. She argued passionately, insisting her place was here, among her people. The castle was her responsibility, the villagers needed leadership, and her brother, Annael, had yet to return. She refused to abandon her home while it remained vulnerable to future Chaosian attacks. Her loyalty was admirable - but irrelevant.

 

They were unmoved by her pleas and had already made their decision. Alesha, though of Amber's blood, was in no position to resist them. Overpowered and outmanoeuvred, she was taken against her will. Kyle, ever pragmatic, understood that leaving her behind - especially after discovering her heritage - would not sit well with King Random. She was too significant to ignore, and far too valuable to leave unguarded.

 

Before their departure, Joshua reappeared. His steed - once a terrifying black dragon - had reverted to its equine form, and both man and mount bore the signs of a recent struggle. He approached the group without hostility and requested permission to accompany them back to Amber. Kyle, weighing the risks, concluded it was better to keep such a powerful - and unpredictable - Chaos Lord close, rather than leave him free to act independently. With a nod, he gave his assent.

 

Gathering the group, Kyle produced the Trump of Castle Amber he had prepared earlier. With a shimmer of power and the pull of Trump energy, he brought them all - Alesha, William, Joshua, and his companions - back through the veil of Shadow and into the heart of Amber itself.

 

Upon returning to the familiar halls of Castle Amber, Kyle quickly pulled Caine aside for a private word. In hushed tones, he made his intentions clear: while Kyle intended to focus his efforts on understanding the nature and origins of William, Caine’s task would be to discreetly keep an eye on Joshua. The Chaos Lord’s presence in Amber was a calculated risk, and one Kyle wasn’t prepared to leave unmonitored.

 

Turning his attention to William, Kyle resolved to test the stranger’s capabilities in a controlled environment. Though William had acquitted himself admirably during the defence of the castle in Malkeeva, that had been in the chaos of battle, under uncertain conditions. Now, Kyle wanted to see what the man could do in a structured challenge - to evaluate his physical prowess, combat skill, and perhaps gain further insight into the source of his mysterious power.

 

The idea drew the attention of the entire group. Even Joshua, who had not yet had the opportunity to observe William in detail, was intrigued. Corin and Caine were equally curious. All of them sensed that William was more than he appeared - an anomaly of immense power whose origins lay beyond the familiar dichotomy of Pattern and Logrus. Watching him fight, testing his limits, might be the first step toward understanding what, exactly, had been brought into their world.

 

Kyle wasted no time in arranging a trial by arms. He summoned a handful of Castle Amber’s finest guards - seasoned veterans trained to spar with royalty - and asked them to test William in open combat. It quickly became evident that this would be no test at all. William moved with precision and instinct, outmatching each opponent with fluid ease. None of the guards posed even a moment’s challenge; his speed, strength, and natural grace rendered their attacks ineffectual, their defences meaningless.

 

Joshua watched from nearby, silently observing every motion, his curiosity piqued. Sensing that William had already surpassed the limits of casual measurement, Caine stepped forward, deciding it was time the newcomer faced a true opponent. There was a glint of confidence - perhaps even condescension - in the Prince of Amber’s eyes. Surely, William would prove no match for a battle-hardened scion of Oberon.

 

But that assumption crumbled quickly.

 

At first, William held back, measuring Caine’s movements with a careful, almost analytical eye. Then, abruptly, he shifted pace - his technique refined, his movements sharper and more decisive. The two exchanged fierce blows, but it became increasingly clear that William held the upper hand. Though the contest was hard-fought on both sides, William repeatedly drove Caine into disadvantage, and each time, he pulled back before landing a final blow, offering pause rather than humiliation.

 

Grim-faced and breathing heavily, Caine eventually called a halt to the bout. He said little, but his eyes betrayed a deep and uneasy respect for William’s skill - and a lingering question about the true limits of his strength.

 

As the crowd began to murmur, another figure stepped forward: Gerard. The giant of Amber had arrived during the duel and watched the exchange with a discerning gaze. When Caine stepped away, Gerard issued a quiet challenge - not with weapons, but hand-to-hand. A test of raw strength, stamina, and physical control.

 

William, unaware of Gerard’s legendary might, accepted without hesitation. Kyle, momentarily alarmed, nearly intervened, fearing for William’s safety. But William, invigorated by his earlier victory, launched himself at Gerard with fearless enthusiasm.

 

At first, Gerard dominated the bout, exploiting his massive strength and experience. Yet William’s speed and flexibility proved elusive. Gerard couldn’t get a solid grip, and the younger man adapted quickly, transitioning from aggression to measured defence. The tide of the contest ebbed and flowed.

 

They fought for over fifteen minutes - punches, feints, throws, and grapples. Gerard could not overpower William, and William could not outpace Gerard’s uncanny instincts. The duel ended not in victory, but in mutual exhaustion, both men drenched in sweat and panting for breath. As they parted, they shared a warrior’s clasp - firm, respectful, and unspoken in its meaning. They had each faced a worthy opponent, and neither had yielded.

 

William’s astonishing performance in the sparring yard had left no room for doubt - he was not merely capable, but on par with the most formidable warriors of Amber. Having bested both Caine and held his own against Gerard, William had proven himself a being of extraordinary talent, and possibly power that transcended even Amberite standards. For Kyle, this changed everything. If William was truly the equal of Amber’s finest, then discovering the truth of his origins was no longer a curiosity - it was a necessity.

 

Seeking further insight, Kyle tapped into his prodigious Trump abilities and conducted a rapid internal survey of Castle Amber, hoping to locate Benedict. If anyone could definitively measure William’s capabilities, it would be Amber’s unmatched master of warfare. But Benedict, as fate would have it, was away - engaged in a diplomatic mission in a nearby Shadow and not due to return for several weeks. Kyle considered summoning him back but decided against it. William, at least for now, seemed cooperative and showed no sign of hostility.

 

Instead, Kyle brought William to a secluded suite within the castle for further examination. Corin joined him, and together they probed as deeply as they dared into William’s strange energies. What they discovered was both remarkable and troubling. By tapping into William’s innate power, they found their own abilities temporarily enhanced - supercharged beyond their usual limits. But the process was flawed. Drawing on his essence caused William visible distress, even harm, and the power they siphoned was wild, almost uncontrollable. It surged beyond their command, volatile and unstable. Without a way to regulate it, its practical value was limited - and dangerous.

 

Still, the implications were staggering. William might be a living conduit to some new form of Reality-aligned force, and that made him invaluable. Kyle resolved to keep him close at all times.

 

Not everyone shared that view unconditionally. Joshua, still an enigma to the others, requested permission to conduct his own investigation into William. Kyle refused outright, unwilling to grant further access to a Chaos Lord with unknown motivations. The conversation turned tense. Joshua, bristling at the dismissal, let his pride slip. With a hint of scorn, he revealed that he was not merely a Lord of Chaos - but the brother of Oberon himself. As such, Caine was his nephew, and Kyle his grand-nephew. A pointed reminder that respect, in his eyes, had been in short supply.

 

The room fell quiet at the revelation. If true, it recontextualised everything they thought they knew about the man named Joshua - and only deepened the mystery surrounding both him and William.

 

With the tension of recent events beginning to ebb, they settled into Castle Amber. Each was assigned private quarters, though the atmosphere remained one of watchful unease. Alesha, despite her protests and royal blood, was placed under guard - her forced relocation from Malkeeva and her refusal to cooperate fully had earned her the status of a guest under scrutiny rather than a free citizen.

 

Caine, still wary, made no secret of his intention to monitor Joshua closely. The Chaos Lord had joined them willingly, but Caine trusted neither his motives nor his presence in Amber. Joshua, for his part, offered no comment, his impassive expression revealing nothing of his thoughts.

 

In truth, Joshua had his own agenda.

 

Though technically a guest, he had no intention of remaining idle. The Pattern - legendary, sacred, and scribed by his own father, Oberon - lay somewhere deep within the castle, and now that fate had delivered him to Amber, he was determined to see it for himself. Employing the subtle mastery of his Logrus sorcery, Joshua cloaked himself in invisibility and slipped unnoticed from his chambers.

 

Moving cautiously through the labyrinthine corridors, he descended into the hidden depths of the castle. His instincts - and perhaps some deeper pull - guided him unerringly toward the Pattern Chamber. At last, he reached the sacred space, vast and resonant with silent power.

 

There, at the beginning of the Pattern’s great spiral, he paused. Slowly, deliberately, he raised one foot and attempted to take the first step. But as his foot came down, it met resistance - not the expected searing force of the Pattern’s initiation, but a firm and invisible barrier that barred entry altogether.

 

Confused, Joshua extended his Logrus sight to assess the space. What he saw gave him pause. Tendrils of the Logrus were already present in the chamber - but they were not his. Someone else had touched this room recently, and with a Chaos-born power not his own. He was not the only one probing the secrets of Amber that night.

 

Back in the privacy of her assigned chamber, Corin sought a moment of respite. She requested a hot bath and, once the steaming water was ready, eased herself into it with a sigh. Yet even as she soaked, her mind remained active. The events in Malkeeva, the mystery of William, and the unmistakable presence of the Pattern within Amber - it was all too much to ignore. Curiosity, caution, and instinct urged her to act.

 

With deliberate care, Corin extended her awareness, summoning the tendrils of the Logrus and letting them slither invisibly through the stonework and corridors of Castle Amber. She moved slowly, almost reverently, her will sharpened by the knowledge that this place was saturated in Real Power - and that any misstep could be catastrophic.

 

As expected, her tendrils were quickly drawn downward, pulled by a gravitational certainty toward the Pattern itself. Its presence blazed in her senses like a star beneath the earth, immutable and immense. When she reached its chamber, she did not probe recklessly. Instead, she let her tendrils skim the surrounding ground, testing the resonance, mapping the power’s boundaries. She had no intention of touching the Pattern directly - only a fool would challenge it unprepared. But the draw of it, the sheer force of Order etched into the world, was undeniable. Even from a distance, the Pattern’s presence hummed through her tendrils like a living thing.

 

She had found what she was looking for - but in doing so, had also made herself known.

 

In the silent, charged atmosphere of the Pattern chamber, Joshua felt a sudden and unmistakable shift. The energies within the room surged - raw, ancient, and full of intent. The Pattern, dormant no longer, was reacting. Instinctively, Joshua began weaving layers of protective sorcery around himself, calling upon the Logrus to buffer him from whatever might come next.

 

Then came the voice - deep, resonant, and filled with authority that brooked no defiance. “Begone, Scion of Chaos.” The words echoed through the chamber like a divine command, rattling the air itself. Joshua, seasoned though he was, did not hesitate. He began to retreat, backing away from the spiral’s edge with measured steps, unwilling to provoke the Pattern further.

 

At that very moment, elsewhere in the castle, Corin experienced a flash of prescience. It came too fast, too sudden to act upon. Some deep part of her psyche recognised the danger, but there was no time to react. An invisible force - like the hand of the Pattern itself - descended upon her. The porcelain of the bath shattered around her as she was violently struck unconscious, the force of it leaving no doubt as to the source.

 

Back in the Pattern chamber, Joshua watched in alarm as the Logrus tendrils that had been delicately probing the room suddenly vanished - snuffed out as if erased by an act of divine will. He recognised them at once; only one other person in the castle had the power and the audacity to send such tendrils. Without hesitation, he turned and raced from the chamber, weaving through the castle’s corridors toward Corin’s quarters, hoping he would not be too late.

 

Elsewhere in Castle Amber, a tremor rippled through the ancient stones - subtle, but unmistakably unnatural. The shockwave, a consequence of the Pattern’s violent rejection of Corin’s probing, did not go unnoticed. Kyle, ever attuned to shifts in power and ambience, felt it instantly. Though unaware of the exact cause, he needed no prompting to assume that Joshua might be involved. His instincts, sharpened by recent events, made him wary of the Chaos Lord’s presence - and his intentions.

 

Fortunately, Kyle had spent the past several hours refining a permanent Trump of Joshua, anticipating just such a moment. Without delay, he attempted contact. But the connection was blocked.

 

Kyle, however, was not just any Trump artist. Among the royal family of Amber, only Fiona, his mother, surpassed him in raw mental power. Undeterred by the initial resistance, Kyle focused and forced his will into the card.

 

“Your Trump contact is blocked.”

 

“OK, I’ll force it.”

 

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself, confident, “you’re still blocked.”

 

Despite his considerable strength, the barrier held firm. He could tell only that Joshua was moving - and fast - but no more than that. Agitated and suspicious, Kyle prepared to abandon the attempt and investigate the disturbance in person when, abruptly, the resistance dropped.

 

Joshua, now in a shadowed room, allowed the Trump to connect.

 

Kyle wasted no time. His questions came sharp and direct: Where was Joshua? What had he been doing? Why had he blocked the contact?

 

Joshua, true to form, offered nothing of substance - no answers, no apologies, no clarity. His replies were evasive, his tone cool. Kyle’s patience evaporated. Disgusted by the evasion and unwilling to engage in games, he severed the connection, the Trump going cold in his hand as he prepared to take matters into his own hands.

 

Freed from the strain of Trump contact, Joshua wasted no time. With long strides and unerring purpose, he made his way swiftly through the castle’s winding corridors, reaching Corin’s quarters well ahead of any of the others. The rest of the Amberites were still scrambling to determine the cause of the strange shudder that had pulsed through the castle’s foundations - a tremor born of raw Pattern force. But Joshua already knew the source.

 

He entered her room silently and found the aftermath. The bathing chamber lay in ruins - shattered porcelain, fractured tiles, and the unmistakable residue of unleashed power. Amidst the wreckage lay Corin, unconscious, bruised, and exposed. Without hesitation or comment, Joshua crossed to her, gently lifted her from the wreckage, dried her with practiced efficiency, and laid her carefully in bed. He covered her with a blanket, then took a seat in a nearby chair. And waited.

 

Moments later, the hurried sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor and stopped just outside the door. It burst open, and in stormed Kyle, followed closely by Gerard, whose blade was already drawn and ready. The sight of Joshua seated calmly at Corin’s bedside instantly sharpened the tension.

 

Words were exchanged - sharp, defensive, and laced with suspicion. Kyle challenged Joshua’s presence and intentions, while Joshua, typically proud and unapologetic, met the accusations with a quiet but unmistakable defiance. The atmosphere grew volatile, and Gerard tensed, his hand tightening on his weapon.

 

For a heartbeat, it seemed things might explode into violence.

 

But Kyle, ever the tactician, took a breath and read the situation more carefully. He recognised that the tremor must have stemmed from something Corin had done - and that Joshua, already present, had likely saved her from further harm. Still, the fact that Joshua had arrived first clearly rankled. Kyle did not trust him, and worse, he suspected that Joshua now held answers that none of the others did.

 

Whatever had happened in the Pattern’s presence, only Joshua and Corin knew for certain - and only one of them was awake.

 

The following morning, as they gathered for a quiet breakfast in one of Castle Amber’s dining halls, the calm was abruptly shattered by the sound of raised voices and hurrying footsteps in the corridors outside. Moments later, a steward entered briskly, delivering urgent news: an intruder had entered the city.

 

What followed was almost too absurd to believe.

 

A lone man had cut a path through the city’s outer guard, killing many with brutal efficiency. Worse still, he was dragging their bloodied bodies behind him through the streets on a thick, hooked chain - leaving a trail of gore in his wake. Now, he stood outside the sealed castle gates, bellowing demands that echoed off the stone walls, though most of his words were incoherent, wild, and laden with fury.

 

Whatever his origin, it was clear this was no common madman. Someone powerful had come to Amber - and he wanted something, or someone, within.

 

They quickly assembled atop the castle walls, gazing down at the grim tableau unfolding outside the main gate. There, in the courtyard below, stood a lone man - tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating raw, unchecked power. A thick rope trailed behind him; its end fastened to a grotesque burden: a massive iron hook embedded through the bodies of a dozen city guards. He had dragged them from the city gates to the very steps of Castle Amber, leaving a crimson smear through the cobbled streets as a morbid calling card.

 

At least one of the guards still clung to life, groaning faintly in the dirt, though likely not for long. The others hung limp, broken and bloodied.

 

The man raised his arms and bellowed up at the battlements, his voice hoarse with rage. Though many of his words were garbled or lost to the wind, the intent was clear: he had come for his sister, and he wanted her returned - now.

 

There was no doubt left among the observers. Whoever this was, he was strong beyond reason, deeply angry, and absolutely unwilling to leave without a confrontation.

 

From their vantage point atop the battlements, the group quickly pieced the situation together. The man below could be only one person - Annael, Alesha’s long-absent brother. His sudden appearance in Amber, without aid or invitation, and his violent trail through the city made one thing certain: he possessed mastery over Shadow travel, a power few wielded lightly. Whatever else he might be, Annael was no ordinary relative of Amber’s royal blood.

 

Caine wasted no time engaging. He leaned over the wall and roared down at the figure, making it unmistakably clear: Alesha would not be returned.

 

Meanwhile, Kyle took a different approach. Ever the tactician and master of Trump, he studied Annael’s features with practiced precision. Drawing upon his advanced skill, Kyle quickly conjured a Sketch Trump of the intruder, the image coalescing in moments under his deft hand.

 

As soon as the Trump was ready, Kyle activated it without hesitation, initiating a psychic connection with the intent to engage Annael in mental combat and paralyse him before he could cause more damage. But Annael, though caught off-guard, responded quickly. Realising he was under psychic assault, he struggled to sever the contact - only succeeding by unleashing a powerful disruption: a Power Word that snapped the link in a burst of magical backlash.

 

The result was sobering. Annael was no fluke heir of Amber, nor merely someone with a basic Pattern imprint. The use of a Power Word, and his instinctive handling of psychic conflict, revealed that he possessed abilities far beyond what anyone had anticipated. He was dangerous. He was skilled. And he wasn’t going away.

 

Still reeling from the psychic backlash of his Power Word, Annael staggered slightly, then glanced upward - and his fury redoubled. High on the upper walls of Castle Amber, he spotted his sister. Alesha stood in clear view, her expression one of distress and resistance. Clutching her arm in an unyielding grip was a figure no one had seen since the end of the Patternfall War: Dworkin, the ancient architect of the Pattern himself. His presence alone was staggering, but his tight hold on Alesha sent Annael into a full-throated rage. He screamed, demanding her release, his voice echoing with enough force to stir the guards to alert.

 

Witnessing the scene unfold, William, compelled by instinct or perhaps empathy, took action. Without waiting for command or consultation, he leapt from the battlements. His descent was graceful, landing with preternatural ease, and he began striding toward Annael with purpose in his step and steel in his eyes.

 

But Kyle, ever calculating, saw an opportunity to test both Annael and William in a single stroke. In a blur of thought and technique, he sketched a Trump of William, activating it the moment the image was complete. Caught off guard, William was unable to resist the contact. Kyle seized control of his mind and body, forcing the unwilling vessel to draw his blade and attack Annael.

 

But possession is not mastery.

 

Though William’s body moved with speed and strength, it lacked the refined grace and instinct that only true martial training - and agency - could provide. Under Kyle’s control, his movements were slower, less precise, more telegraphed.

 

Annael, blade still sheathed at his side, observed the attack with a chilling calm. In a single fluid motion, he unsheathed his weapon, deflected William’s strike, and countered with brutal efficiency. His blade plunged deep into William’s abdomen - hilt to gut - then tore upward and out in a savage motion. William crumpled to the ground like a lifeless puppet, the Trump link severing along with the body’s strength.

 

The message was clear: Annael was no ordinary opponent. He had come prepared - for anything.

 

The moment William fell, the rest of the group sprang into motion. Caine, fury in his eyes, surged toward the castle gates with Gerard at his side. Together, they threw them open and charged down toward Annael, weapons drawn, determined to bring him down before he could escape or strike again.

 

Meanwhile, Kyle sensed his earlier Trump of Annael still held the faintest thread of connection. Wasting no time, he pooled his formidable will with that of Corin - eager to assist - and even drew reluctant cooperation from Joshua, whose curiosity outweighed his indifference. The combined force of their minds surged into the Trump link, overwhelming the last defensive echoes of Annael’s Power Word and forcing the contact back into place.

 

Just as Annael pulled out a Trump of his own, intending to escape, the reestablished link froze him in place. For a moment, he stood rigid - trapped in the grip of three powerful minds. Kyle pushed further, reaching through the Trump to neutralise the card in Annael’s hand, seeking to sever his last hope of flight.

 

But Annael had one final card to play - literally.

 

A sudden burst of power erupted from the Trump he held, releasing a flash of emerald light and a shockwave of magical force. The link shattered with a crack of displaced energy, and the contact was gone. In that instant, Annael slipped through his Trump, vanishing just as Gerard was closing the final step to seize him.

 

Kyle, frustrated but focused, turned immediately to William’s crumpled body. Without hesitation, he opened a Trump to his personal Shadow - Terra Prime - where advanced medical technology awaited. In a heartbeat, Kyle transported the wounded warrior away, leaving the others behind in Amber, stunned by the chaos, and reeling from how close they had come to capturing Annael.