Formenos
Chapter Three - Attack On Amber
Upon their return to Amber, the entire company promptly convened in the throne room to deliver their account to King Random. The atmosphere was tense. Random listened with visible frustration as they relayed the events in Veddarth and their failure to decisively neutralize the threat posed by Annael. Clearly under considerable strain, Random paced restlessly, muttering to himself about Corwin and Dworkin, and lashing out at the group with unfiltered irritation. His composure had frayed. Whatever lingering patience he once had for Annael’s familial connection to Amber had long since evaporated. The king dismissed Annael’s lineage as irrelevant, noting bitterly that with Oberon’s notorious proclivities, it wouldn’t surprise him if a hundred more illegitimate heirs wandered the Shadows.
Particularly incensed with William - who had been in a position to eliminate Annael but failed to do so - Random directed the brunt of his anger at him. Yet William, unshaken and indifferent, met the rebuke with impassive calm. His stoicism only aggravated Random further, stoking the king’s ire to the edge of open hostility.
With a final growl of discontent, Random waved them off, commanding them to regroup, return to Veddarth, and deal with Annael once and for all. Before dismissing them, he made a sardonic remark: Corwin had returned to Amber and was sequestered in his chambers, apparently sulking - doing nothing to help, as far as Random could tell.
As the group turned their focus toward mounting a return expedition to Veddarth, William was approached by a castle guard bearing a folded note. It was from Alesha. In it, she requested his presence in her quarters, claiming to have important information to share. Ever the courteous and trusting soul, William wandered through the castle corridors until he located her rooms. With his usual gentle manner, he knocked softly before entering.
Inside, Alesha awaited him, visibly agitated. She gestured to a seat beside her on a low divan, and William, ever obliging, sat down. She took his hands in hers, her eyes brimming with tears, and in that moment William felt an intense wave of empathy toward her. But as their eyes locked, her expression changed - her brow furrowed sharply - and William felt a sudden invasive pressure within his mind. Before he could react, a surge of psychic force overwhelmed him. He was caught in a mental seizure he could not break.
Unbeknownst to either of them, Kyle had discreetly observed William when he first received the message. After a brief exchange with the castle guard to confirm the note’s origin, Kyle had followed at a cautious distance. Sensitive to the sudden shift in magical energy, Kyle arrived at Alesha’s quarters just as the psychic attack was initiated. With practiced precision, he burst through the door and unleashed a wave of Pattern-infused disruption, severing Alesha’s mental grip.
The spell shattered. Alesha screamed in pain, clutching her head as William reeled backward, gasping. Infuriated, William demanded an explanation, his voice sharp. Kyle, equally stern, echoed the demand. Through sobs, Alesha confessed: she simply wanted to go home. She had hoped to use William - gently, without true harm - as a means to escape Amber, perhaps even to return to Annael. But her plan had been half-formed, driven more by desperation than malice. Her remorse was genuine, and despite the breach of trust, it was clear she harbored no deep ill will toward them.
After the tense confrontation with Alesha, Kyle swiftly reconvened the group. He proposed a detour before their next incursion into Veddarth: a return to his personal Shadow. There, they could regroup, resupply, and - crucially - bring Alesha with them under controlled supervision. Though still wary, the others agreed. Before departing, they pressed Alesha for further details about Veddarth - its geography, its defences, and anything she could recall about Annael’s operations. But her memories were fragmentary, drawn from a time when she was just a child. Whatever knowledge she once had had long since faded, offering them little tactical advantage.
Undeterred, Kyle led them back to Terra Prime, his advanced technological Shadow. From what they had encountered of Veddarth’s mechanised defences, Kyle was convinced that high-tech weaponry would prove effective. He guided the group in rearming themselves - selecting a cache of sophisticated armaments, energy-based weapons, and enhanced field gear, all carefully chosen to bypass or disable the blood-powered constructs Annael had deployed. With their new arsenal in hand and a renewed sense of purpose, the party prepared to re-enter Veddarth - this time, on their terms.
Calling upon the immense power of the Logrus, Joshua carefully wove a passage through Shadow toward Veddarth. His mastery of Shadow manipulation was near peerless, and he took painstaking precautions to ensure their traversal remained undetected. With the conduit held open by tendrils of controlled chaos, the rest of the group stepped through, one by one, emerging cautiously into the familiar yet hostile terrain of Veddarth.
Upon arrival, the next phase of their plan commenced. Joshua shape-shifted into the likeness of Alesha - his form a near-perfect replica. The ruse was simple but daring: pose as Alesha to infiltrate Annael’s inner circle, earn his trust, and uncover the deeper layers of his plans. As they began the long walk toward the nearest city - the same one that had housed the laboratory they visited before - they stopped along the way to acquire appropriate local attire. Blending into Veddarth’s tech-centric society would require more than brute force this time.
Yet even as they moved with care, a shadow of unease crept over them. Joshua’s demon steed, long attuned to subtle energies, communicated a vague but growing sense of dread. It couldn’t pinpoint the source - only that something unseen was deeply wrong. Joshua trusted its instincts. He warned the others to heighten their caution, urging vigilance with every step they took.
Upon reaching the city, they checked into a hotel and settled in. Kyle and Joshua, ever resourceful, quickly absorbed enough of the local language to navigate daily life. Using terminal access in their rooms, they began digging into public records and data streams, hoping to discern more about Veddarth’s current state. The results, however, only confirmed their worst assumptions: Annael now ruled the entire world. He had consolidated power under a compelling narrative - portraying himself as the rightful ruler of a distant realm, usurped by three villainous brothers. The people of Veddarth were being prepared for war, rallying under Annael’s banner in the belief that justice and liberation lay ahead.
While the others worked from the shadows, Corin took it upon herself to survey the city more directly. Adopting a discreet vantage, she soon located the laboratory - the same one they had emerged from during their last incursion into Veddarth. It was no longer dormant. The facility buzzed with renewed activity, its perimeter tightly guarded. Corin observed armed personnel moving with purpose, some boarding a sleek anti-gravity transport that lifted effortlessly into the air and accelerated in the direction of their earlier arrival point.
With practiced ease, Corin followed the speeder at a distance, using her powers to remain undetected. She watched as the troops disembarked and began a methodical sweep of the area - clearly searching for signs of unauthorized entry. The meaning was clear. Despite Joshua’s meticulous precautions, their arrival had not gone unnoticed. The delay in response had bought them time, but not much.
Corin quickly relayed her findings to the rest of the group. Their window of stealth was closing, and she urged them to accelerate their plans before Annael’s forces closed in fully.
Disguised as Alesha, Joshua joined Kyle and William as they made their way swiftly across the city toward Annael’s fortified compound. Corin shadowed them from above, cloaked in invisibility, soaring high and unseen. As they reached the perimeter of the complex, it quickly became clear that infiltration was out of the question. The defences were tight - entry without detection would be impossible.
Faced with no viable stealth alternative, they opted for brute force. Armed with the high-tech weaponry they had acquired on Terra Prime, they launched their assault. From cover, Joshua/Alesha fired the opening shot, striking down a guard and igniting chaos. Alarms rang out. In moments, the entire facility was engulfed in gunfire.
The initial retaliation was swift and brutal. From the sky descended a sleek, humanoid combat droid - one of Annael’s infamous Blood Droids - followed quickly by two more. Under intense fire, Kyle was forced to retreat via Trump, blinking back to the hotel to avoid serious injury. But Joshua held his ground. Taking careful aim, he brought one of the droids down with a precise shot, the machine collapsing in a sparking heap of inert metal.
William, meanwhile, surged forward into the fray, igniting his Terra Prime lightsaber with a sharp hum. With two deft strikes, he carved clean through the second droid, its innards spraying a viscous red liquid across the ground - bloodlike in appearance and unsettling in volume. The third unit closed in, but was swiftly dispatched by concentrated fire, just as two more arrived on the scene. Yet these too fell quickly, overwhelmed by the party’s superior firepower. In a matter of minutes, five droids lay inert, their frames shattered, circuits dead, and the surrounding ground slick with artificial ichor.
High above the battlefield, Corin hovered unseen, carefully observing both the clash below and the ebb and flow of ambient power in the surrounding area. Her vigilance paid off. A subtle but distinct ping reverberated through the aether - a ripple in reality that prickled against her senses. Instantly, the three downed Blood Droids jerked unnaturally, as if pulled by invisible strings, snapping upright with a renewed sense of purpose.
Alarmed, Corin invoked her Logrus sight. What she beheld confirmed her suspicions: a surge of True Power was coursing into the machines, reanimating them - not from internal reserves, but from an external source steeped in Order. This was no simple reboot. Something, or someone, was remotely reasserting control over the battlefield.
At the same time, Joshua - still cloaked in the form of Alesha - felt it too: a psychic tremor that sent a chill down his spine. From his concealed position, he immediately dropped his weapon and shifted his demeanor, adopting the guise of a helpless, terrified woman. It was a calculated gambit - desperation as camouflage.
More Blood Droids descended from the skies, their movements crisp and deliberate, their power signatures unmistakably tied to the same force of Order. The skirmish turned quickly. Despite his earlier success, William was overwhelmed, his weapons useless against their sheer numbers. He and Joshua/Alesha were seized and forcibly taken into the depths of the compound.
Unseen, Corin maintained her position above, watchful and silent, committing every detail to memory as the tide of battle turned against her companions.
William and Joshua - still assuming the guise of Alesha - were escorted deep into the heart of Annael’s stronghold. There, in a stark chamber flanked by Blood Droids, they were brought before Annael himself. Surprisingly, Annael did not immediately call for their execution. Recognizing that William was not of Amber, and recalling that he had once spared Annael’s life when given the chance, Annael instead ordered that William be placed in stasis - a precaution rather than a death sentence.
Joshua, playing the part of Alesha to perfection, stepped forward in protest. She pleaded for leniency, arguing that with the other Amberites out of the picture, she could keep William under control. Her conviction seemed sincere - Annael hesitated, weighing past mercy against present advantage. Eventually, he relented. At Joshua/Alesha’s prompting, William complied with a display of obedient behavior, helping to sell the illusion.
Curious but cautious, Annael questioned her further - how had she returned to him? Joshua wove a convincing tale: the Amberites had intended to use her as a bargaining chip, a tool against Annael, but she had escaped their clutches at the last moment and made her way back to him.
Satisfied, Annael led her through the complex to an expansive map room, walls lined with glowing displays and flickering projections. There, he began to reveal the grand design behind his recent actions. Over the years, he explained, he had extracted copious amounts of blood - both from Alesha and from himself. That blood, when combined with the advanced technology of Veddarth, had given rise to a terrifying new force: the Blood Droids. Dozens had already been manufactured and secreted away in hidden locations. With the proper activation signal, the blood-infused core within each unit would awaken, empowering them to resist even the most potent sorcery - and to stand against the Princes of Amber themselves.
But the supply of Amberite blood was dwindling. If the current batch of Blood Droids proved insufficient, Annael admitted he would be forced to harvest more - capturing members of the royal family to fuel his war engine and ensure Amber’s destruction. His expression was clinical, almost resigned, as though his path were dictated more by necessity than vengeance.
With that, he instructed his guards to escort Joshua/Alesha to private quarters, affording her comfort and apparent trust. William, however, was not to remain by her side. Annael insisted he be sedated, and ordered him hooked to a drip containing powerful narcotics. Yet the drugs did not work as intended. William’s constitution - fortified by his unusual heritage - allowed him to resist the sedatives’ effects. Though groggy at first, he soon regained clarity. But with Blood Droids watching him closely, he chose not to act - yet.
Still in the guise of Alesha, Joshua was escorted from Annael’s compound under heavy robot guard. Outside, a sleek sub-orbital anti-gravity vessel awaited - its hull gleaming with polished chrome, hovering silently above the landing pad. Without a word, Joshua boarded, and the ship surged into the sky, slicing through Veddarth’s atmosphere at staggering speed. A pair of Blood Droids accompanied the vessel, flying alongside with autonomous thrusters, an ever-present reminder that trust was conditional and surveillance constant.
The journey spanned half the globe, ending at a remote and luxurious estate nestled in an unfamiliar city. There, Joshua was deposited into an opulent high-rise apartment - lavishly furnished, equipped with amenities befitting a favored guest, and, more importantly, apparently unmonitored within its walls. The guards did not follow him inside.
Seizing the moment of privacy, Joshua moved swiftly. With a flick of mental focus, he initiated a Trump contact. Moments later, Kyle stepped through, emerging into the apartment with the precision and urgency the situation demanded.
From her vantage high above the city, Corin observed Annael’s departure. Sensing an opportunity, she acted decisively. Slipping through the shadows, she infiltrated the compound and freed William from captivity. Though still groggy from the drugs, William regained his strength quickly. However, as they slipped into the outer corridors of the complex, he was struck by a sudden and powerful sense of dread - a visceral warning with no clear source.
Trusting his instincts, the two made a hasty exit, fleeing toward the outskirts of the facility. There, they commandeered a speeder and launched it skyward, racing away from the city at breakneck speed. Their timing could not have been more fortuitous. Moments after their escape, a wave of destruction rolled across the skyline. Annael had unleashed his Blood Droids upon the city, evidently convinced that some of the Amberites remained within. The city was obliterated in a searing burst of annihilation, the blast wave trailing a massive electromagnetic pulse.
Though spared the worst of the devastation, the EMP caught their fleeing speeder mid-flight. Systems failed instantly. With a jarring loss of control, the craft spiraled and crashed violently into the wilderness beyond. Both Corin and William were badly injured in the impact - Corin most of all. She lay sprawled on the scorched earth, breath shallow, her body broken.
Then, from the undergrowth, a figure emerged - unexpected and magnificent. The Unicorn stepped silently from the foliage, its white coat luminous even in the dying light. Without hesitation, it approached Corin and placed its front hooves gently upon her chest, just below the collarbones. A radiant surge of power coursed through her. The pain vanished. Her wounds sealed. With her Logrus sight, Corin witnessed something astonishing: two glowing hoof-shaped impressions, etched into her skin where the Unicorn had touched her.
Before she could speak or even fully grasp what had occurred, the Unicorn turned and vanished into the wilds once more. Shaken but revitalized, Corin rose to her feet. Though still uncertain of the significance of the encounter, she knew her path now lay elsewhere. Gathering William, she opened a path and returned to Chaos, determined to recover and regroup.
Back in Veddarth, Joshua sensed that time had run out. With Annael distracted and his forces in disarray, the moment had come to strike at the very foundation of his power. No longer willing to play the long game, Joshua resolved to sever Annael’s connection to the Shadow itself - to wrest control of Veddarth from his grasp.
Kyle, recognizing the gravity of what Joshua intended, lent his considerable strength to the effort. Together, their combined might - Joshua’s mastery of the Logrus and Kyle’s deep attunement to Pattern and Trump - proved sufficient to challenge even Annael’s singular dominion. With force and precision, they tore Veddarth from his control, reclaiming it from his shaping will.
The act came at a terrible cost. Joshua, with grim resolve, shut down the world’s technological infrastructure. Aircraft would fall from the sky, undersea colonies would collapse, orbital stations would fail - millions, perhaps more, would perish in the sudden blackout. But the tactical necessity left no room for hesitation.
Turning their attention back to Annael, they initiated a Trump contact, catching a glimpse of him aboard his sub-orbital vessel. The ship had just landed, and Annael looked visibly shaken, clutching his head in pain - a likely side effect of losing his hold on the Shadow. But the moment of vulnerability passed quickly. With a sharp whistle, a horse galloped into view from seemingly nowhere. Annael mounted effortlessly, pinned a brooch to his cloak, and in an instant the Trump connection shattered.
Kyle attempted contact again, reaching out through Trump with the finesse of a master. He managed to establish the faintest thread of connection - but just as quickly, it was severed. A burst of magical backlash surged through the link: a Power Word, expertly timed and explosively disruptive. The Trump went dead in his hand, smoldering slightly at the edges, and Kyle staggered backward, clutching his temple as a splitting headache took hold. The trail had gone cold.
Once the worst of his Trump-induced headache had subsided, Kyle wasted no time. He quickly sketched a Trump of the location where he had last glimpsed Annael - reconstructing the scene with practiced precision. Without delay, he and Joshua activated the Trump and stepped through together into the unfamiliar landscape.
Their sudden arrival was anything but subtle. A brief and unsettling display of power - necessary to assert their presence and clear a path - caused the nearby locals to flee in terror. Amid the chaos, Kyle seized the opportunity to appropriate two horses, mounting one and tossing the reins of the second to Joshua.
They set off at once, attempting to follow Annael’s trail. But the pursuit was short-lived. Annael, a seasoned master of Shadow travel, had already vanished into the vastness of the multiverse. He had shifted realms with such finesse that even the residual traces of his path were elusive. The terrain offered no clues; the trail was cold.
Kyle attempted to re-establish Trump contact, holding Annael’s image firmly in his mind. But this time, there was nothing - not even the sense of a blocked connection. It felt as though Annael no longer existed within the reach of Trump at all, or worse, that he was cloaking himself so thoroughly that Trump could not locate him. Wherever he had gone, he had disappeared utterly.
Having returned to the Courts of Chaos with William in tow, Corin sought the solace and clarity of the Logrus. Yet as they began their passage through the shifting landscape of the Courts, William grew restless. A strange sensation tugged at his consciousness - an invisible pull, subtle but undeniable, drawing him onward. At first, it seemed to align with the direction Corin was already heading, and so he followed without hesitation. But as they pressed deeper into the ever-morphing terrain, William began to sense that the pull would soon diverge from Corin’s path.
Something ancient stirred within him. Guided by instinct and an uncanny familiarity with the Ways of the Courts, William veered off the main path. Corin, alert to the sudden change, followed close behind, curiosity and concern intertwining. They moved together through a kaleidoscope of shifting geography - realities folding in upon themselves - until at last they came to the edge of what was known. Ahead lay The Beyond, the mythic threshold beyond the Courts, the heart of the original Chaos: primal, unshaped, and immense.
They crossed into a zone of raw, ever-shifting matter until they stood before a towering gothic archway, carved from impossibility and set upon solid ground where none should exist. All around them surged the roiling presence of Primal Chaos. William, drawn by a resonance he could not explain, stepped forward. The pull intensified. His will began to slip, not from fear, but from an overwhelming sense of belonging - of inevitability.
As he approached the archway, a colossal manifestation of the Logrus materialized before it, its writhing coils unfurling in protest. It barred his path with fury, labeling him traitor, renegade, and worse. But William did not yield. Defiant and determined, he challenged the primal force, and a clash ensued.
Corin, watching from nearby, saw figures converging from across the Courts - Chaosians riding demons, gliding on wings, or drifting on arcane machines. William, unfazed, surged forward with impossible energy. Somehow, he pressed upon the Logrus itself, reaching toward it with both weapons and will, matching the ancient power blow for blow.
Then, in a moment of desperation and pain, the Logrus turned to Corin. With a sweep of force, it seized her, hoisting her into the air. Using her as a conduit - an amplifier for its fury - it unleashed a torrent of power that blasted William backward. He vanished, flung into the void beyond the archway, leaving no trace.
Corin fell unconscious, consumed by the backlash. When she awoke, she found herself in Suhuy’s quarters, disoriented but alive. The ancient scholar of the Courts stood nearby, visibly shaken. They spoke in hushed tones of what had transpired, but even Suhuy was at a loss. William’s fate was unclear, and the Logrus’s actions were troublingly opaque.
Corin then revealed something else. On her chest, just below the collarbones, were two faint hoof-shaped marks - no longer merely impressions, but now sprouting fine, white hair. They were the remnants of the Unicorn’s touch. Suhuy examined them carefully, but even he - archmage of Chaos and master of the Logrus - could offer no explanation. His face darkened with concern, and he promised to investigate further.
William awoke to darkness - utter, featureless blackness. He was naked, disoriented, and only dimly aware of what had transpired. The confrontation with the Logrus was little more than a distant memory, fragmented and fading. All around him was silence, yet it did not feel empty. Something was present. Watching. Waiting.
Then, from the void, points of light began to appear - tiny stars in the abyss. They swirled lazily at first, then moved with growing intensity, orbiting him in elegant, chaotic patterns. Instinctively, William reached out with his will, and to his surprise, the lights responded. They slowed, drifted inward, and clustered around him, pulsing softly. For a moment, it seemed he had control.
But the moment passed.
The lights suddenly flared and spun outward, as if obeying a force greater than his own. Before him, they coalesced into form - an immense structure shaped like a gothic archway, eerily reminiscent of the gateway that marked the edge of Primal Chaos. Within its threshold shimmered a vision: a world spread out below, vast and unfamiliar. It was flat - unnaturally so - with two enormous continents separated by a wide, turbulent sea. It looked both alien and strangely deliberate.
Some of the swirling lights descended through the gate, falling toward the eastern continent like meteors. William tried to resist, to regain control, but the vision was no longer his to command. Compelled by a force he could not name, he staggered backward from the archway.
Then another light appeared. This one did not swirl or pulse. It took shape with purpose - and in moments, a figure stood before him. It was himself. Or something that wore his face.
William awoke once more - this time not in darkness, but beneath a pale and indifferent sky. He lay on a desolate, barren plain, the ground dry and cracked, interrupted only by jagged outcroppings of stone that pierced the horizon like broken bones. There was no sign of civilization, no sound but the whisper of a distant wind. Alone and uncertain of where - or even when - he was, William rose slowly, scanning the landscape for direction or purpose.
His solitude did not last long. A familiar sensation tugged at his consciousness: a Trump contact. Kyle. Without hesitation, William accepted the connection. Moments later, he was pulled through the shimmering gateway of the Trump, emerging directly into the Throne Room of Amber.
Elsewhere in the castle, Corin had also returned. As she made her way toward the Throne Room to rejoin the others, she encountered Corwin in the corridor. He was visibly agitated - eyes sharp, voice tense. He demanded to know where she had been. Corin, ever poised and cheerful, offered a breezy recounting of recent events, omitting certain details - most notably, the encounter with the Unicorn and the strange marks it had left behind.
Her lighthearted tone only seemed to aggravate Corwin further. Whatever turmoil stirred within him, her calm indifference did nothing to soothe it.
The full group reconvened to deliver their report to King Random, who listened with growing unease. The tale of Veddarth, the Blood Droids, and Annael’s continued elusiveness clearly unsettled him - but what disturbed him most was Annael’s apparent ability to vanish completely, even from the reach of someone as gifted in Trump as Kyle. That, more than anything, seemed to suggest a deeper threat still lurking beneath the surface.
As the debriefing progressed, Kyle made an offhand remark - perhaps meant as a jest, perhaps not - referring to Random as King “at the moment.” The words hung in the air like a sudden chill. An uncomfortable silence followed. A few raised eyebrows, a few sharp glances in Kyle’s direction. The tension was unmistakable. But after a pause, the conversation resumed, though with a notable coolness. The moment passed, but not without leaving a faint crack in the atmosphere.
Dinner that evening was subdued. Both Corwin and Dworkin were present, their mutual tension still palpable, though less overt than it had been in the past. The conversation was minimal. Afterward, drinks were taken in the adjacent chamber, and even that gathering remained quiet, marked by careful politeness and a sense of unresolved strain.
Later, Kyle and Corin requested a brief private audience with Random. Once behind closed doors, Corin revealed the marks the Unicorn had left on her chest - faint impressions now sprouting fine white hair. Random examined them with a mixture of curiosity and unease. He admitted he had no idea what they meant, and - with a tone hovering between sarcasm and exasperation - remarked that he wished Fiona were present to explain them, though it was clear even he might not fully welcome her interpretation.
Their private conversation was kept short to avoid arousing suspicion. Within minutes, Kyle and Corin returned to the main hall, rejoining the others as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Joshua observed the room carefully, noting the undercurrents of tension that still lingered around Corwin. Though officially reinstated within the royal fold, Corwin’s presence continued to unsettle many of the family. Few had grown fully comfortable with calling him “Uncle” again. As Joshua scanned the room, a flicker caught his eye - Corwin, or someone like him, glimpsed from the corner of his vision. Yet when he turned to confirm it, Corwin was unmistakably across the room, his gaze fixed on Corin with quiet intensity.
Eventually, Corwin crossed the hall to approach Kyle. His demeanor was uncharacteristically composed. With a brief but sincere tone, he offered an apology for his previous outbursts and erratic behaviour, suggesting they put past grievances behind them. He proposed a hunting trip - just the two of them, uncle and nephew, in more peaceful surroundings. Kyle accepted with a nod, and Corwin took his leave without further fanfare.
Inspired by Random’s earlier quip about his mother - one of the few genuinely useful suggestions of the day - Kyle turned to Random and Corin and announced his intention to contact Fiona. If anyone might make sense of the Unicorn’s marks or the escalating anomalies in Shadow, it was her. He asked Random if there had been any recent word of her whereabouts.
Random shook his head. Fiona, he explained, had not been seen since she left for the Primal Pattern, shortly before summoning Kyle to Amber during the earliest days of their gathering.
Concerned, Kyle retrieved her Trump and focused. The moment he did, unease flooded his senses. The card was lifeless. There was no spark, no resonance, no trace of her presence at all. His face betrayed his worry, but Random offered only a casual shrug. “Don’t fret,” he said dryly. “Fiona’s survived worse. She can take care of herself.”
Following the chaos of recent days, the group took a much-needed respite. The following day passed quietly within the walls of Castle Amber. No alarms, no reports of invasion - just a moment of calm amidst the mounting uncertainties. Each of them used the time to reflect, to assess their standing, and to prepare mentally for whatever came next.
That evening’s dinner began in much the same subdued tone. The atmosphere was hushed but steady, as though the family collectively agreed not to tempt fate. Halfway through the meal, Corwin arrived. His entrance was unremarkable, but his mood was not. It became immediately clear that something within him was unraveling. His movements were sharp, his gaze distant, and he radiated an energy on the edge of volatility.
As conversation unfolded around him, Corwin grew increasingly irritable. Harmless comments were met with dark mutterings. Questions were perceived as challenges. He seemed poised for conflict, and it didn’t take long for the mask to fall away entirely. Rising to his feet, he launched into a tirade - denouncing the current order of reality as decrepit and obsolete. He declared that a new age was coming, one shaped by his will, and warned that those who resisted would suffer the consequences.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Corwin’s anger reached a crescendo. Kyle, unfortunately seated nearby, became the immediate target of his fury. Without provocation, Corwin unleashed a venomous verbal assault, laced with barely veiled threats and seething contempt. Kyle withstood it silently, unflinching, until Corwin - still seething - abruptly turned and stormed out of the dining hall, leaving a room full of shaken nobles in his wake.
The following day began uneventfully, with the castle settling back into an uneasy rhythm. But the fragile peace was shattered by chaos erupting from the royal stables. Without warning, Joshua’s demon steed - normally a brooding but obedient creature - erupted into a frenzy. Before anyone could intervene, it shapeshifted into its true draconic form, an enormous, winged beast wreathed in menace.
The transformation triggered a rampage. The dragon tore through the stables with terrifying ease, reducing them to splinters and flame. Horses scattered in panic, though many were not fast enough - among the dead was King Random’s prized mount. Four guards were also slain in the chaos, caught in the fury of tooth and flame. By the time Joshua arrived, it was too late. The beast spread its wings and launched into the sky, vanishing into the distant clouds before he could stop it.
Random was livid. Though he didn’t erupt as Corwin had, his disapproval was unmistakable. His fury burned cold and hard, directed at both the rogue creature and its master. Joshua, for his part, was deeply unsettled - less by the King’s anger than by the loss of his steed, which had long been a loyal, if volatile, companion.
As he stood watching the skies where the dragon had disappeared, Joshua felt a flicker of psychic pressure - then another. Two Trump contacts, one after the other. Reflexively, he shut both down before they could connect, the attempted links unfamiliar and unwelcome. Whoever had reached out, he was not ready to answer.
Not long after the dragon’s violent departure, Corin experienced another vision. She had been resting alone in her chambers when the sensation crept in - familiar, intrusive, and otherworldly. It was much like the vision she had experienced at Alesha’s castle, but this time the imagery was sharper, more foreboding.
She found herself witnessing a scene of chaos: a brutal battle unfolding along the slopes of a mountain, the terrain drenched in an unnatural green hue that stained the world like diseased light. Shadows twisted across the battlefield, and a thick, indistinct black streak - broad and shifting - cut through the land like a scar. The entire vision pulsed with wrongness.
Over it all, echoing through the warped landscape, came the sounds of anguish - agonized moans, ragged cries, the unmistakable voice of a man in torment. The cries didn’t just pierce the air - they echoed within her, as though the pain was not just observed, but shared.
When the vision faded, Corin was left breathless and shaken. Though its meaning remained elusive, its urgency was undeniable.
Late in the day, Benedict returned to Castle Amber, his arrival as composed and measured as ever. He had been away in the nearby Shadow of Trebernaxus, where he had been leading delicate negotiations to bring the realm into the Golden Circle. Upon briefing Random, Benedict reported that progress had been made - significant progress, in fact - once he had taken a direct hand in the discussions. Prior to his intervention, relations had been on the verge of open conflict; tensions had risen dangerously, and Amber’s reputation in Trebernaxus hung by a thread.
Though the situation had since stabilized, the negotiations remained incomplete. Benedict had returned to Amber to enlist the aid of a family member more adept in the arcane arts and in Trump, someone who could not only navigate magical diplomacy but also detect and counter any subtle manipulations from the other side. Trebernaxus, though geographically close to Amber, boasted practitioners of magic who, despite their Shadow-bound origins, still wielded surprising power.
Once the diplomatic work was concluded, Benedict intended to begin the slow but crucial process of bringing Trebernaxus closer to Amber through Shadow manipulation - tightening trade routes, reducing the hazards of long-distance travel, and strengthening Amber’s political reach. Everyone agreed that integrating Trebernaxus into the Golden Circle would be a strategic boon - if the final pieces could fall into place.
Benedict was candid in his briefing about Trebernaxus and the unique challenges it presented. On the surface, the Shadow bore many similarities to Amber - technologically advanced, orderly, and structurally familiar. Yet unlike most Shadows in such close proximity to the realm, Trebernaxus pulsed with a distinctly higher level of ambient magic. The discrepancy was notable, even troubling.
At the heart of the Shadow’s culture was a widespread, near-universal faith in a deity known as the Verdant Gold of Infinity - a god of nature, growth, and trees. The people of Trebernaxus revered this entity with an intensity that shaped not just their religion, but their society, politics, and magic. Benedict admitted he had felt something powerful beneath the surface of the realm - an unseen force that may well explain the abnormal magical saturation.
Yet he had gained little insight into the inner workings of the faith itself. The senior leadership of the religion - the true power behind the scenes - had refused to attend the negotiations altogether. Such detachment, Benedict explained, was part of their tradition; they avoided worldly dealings and made it clear they would not meet with emissaries from Amber under any circumstances. The reason for their hostility remained elusive, but Benedict could not shake the feeling that their distrust ran deep - and perhaps, was rooted in something more than simple prejudice.
That evening, Kyle received an unexpected contact - Trump-like in sensation, but distinctly not a Trump. The touch was familiar, threaded with emotion and urgency. It was Corwin.
His tone was contrite, almost vulnerable. He apologized for his earlier outburst - the rage at dinner, the proclamations of a new reality. He dismissed it as the result of exhaustion, frustration, perhaps too much wine. Whatever the excuse, he made it clear he wished to move past it. He proposed, once again, that he and Kyle go hunting together - uncle and nephew, setting aside old grievances in favor of shared blood and tradition.
Then, somewhat unexpectedly, Corwin extended the invitation to Corin as well, drawing her into the exchange with an almost casual familiarity. His reasoning was vague, but the gesture seemed genuine. After a brief pause, Kyle and Corin agreed. They would meet him the following morning at the edge of the Forest of Arden.
The next morning, Kyle and Corin met Corwin at the Amber edge of the Forest of Arden. He was already waiting, mounted atop a creature of staggering size - more beast than horse, its sinewed frame and gleaming hide giving it an almost mythic presence. Corwin was all warmth and charm, disarming in his friendliness, offering pleasantries with ease and laughter that seemed genuine.
The three set off into the woods for a morning hunt. They ranged through the forest in pursuit of game, but their efforts proved fruitless; the beasts of Arden proved elusive. Eventually, their wandering brought them to the fabled Grove of the Unicorn. As they reached its sacred edge, the atmosphere shifted - reverent and heavy with unseen power. They dismounted in silence, watching as the Unicorn emerged from the trees, luminous and serene.
The creature stepped forward, gently striking its hooves against a stone. Then, its eyes fell upon Corin, and it began to approach her, drawn by some quiet recognition. But as it neared, the Unicorn’s attention shifted. It saw Corwin.
What followed was a moment suspended in time. The three of them - Unicorn, Corin, and Corwin - stood in frozen stillness, an air of uncertainty hanging thick. Then Corwin moved.
With a sudden, shocking lunge, he grabbed for the Unicorn. Caught off guard by the audacity of the act, both Kyle and Corin hesitated, too stunned to intervene. Corwin unleashed an unfamiliar Pattern-based power, momentarily stunning their mounts, rendering them inert. In one fluid motion, he seized the Unicorn and vaulted onto his monstrous steed.
Without another word, he charged off, plunging into a hell-ride of terrifying scale.
Kyle immediately drew Corwin’s Trump and attempted contact. He succeeded - but what met him was unlike anything he had encountered before. Though he could see Corwin clearly through the Trump, he could not touch his mind. His psychic reach slid uselessly against an impenetrable barrier, a fortress of ordered thought that defied entry. He caught glimpses - echoes - of Corwin’s inner turmoil, but no connection could be made.
What he did see shook him deeply. Corwin’s hell-ride was a spectacle of unimaginable intensity. He was shifting through Shadow at a pace Kyle had never believed possible, moving with such force and velocity that the landscape barely kept up with his passage.
Eventually, Corwin reached a Pattern - but not Amber’s. As Kyle watched closely, he realized this was Corwin’s own Pattern: a separate imprint of Order, carved into reality by Corwin himself. Corwin was racing toward its beginning.
Taking in the terrain and the structure of the Pattern as quickly as he could, Kyle pulled back from the Trump and began to sketch - capturing the location in a Trump of his own making before the opportunity could vanish.
Using the freshly drawn Sketch Trump, Kyle and Corin transported themselves to Corwin’s Pattern - arriving just in time to witness something extraordinary. At the far end of the vast, spiraling design, Corwin stood poised at its beginning. Without hesitation, he began to walk.
To their astonishment, he completed the traverse in the span of a heartbeat. One moment he was at the Pattern’s edge, the next he stood at its centre, the full journey seemingly compressed into an impossible instant. Kyle, whose understanding of the Pattern exceeded most in Amber, was stunned. He knew enough to understand this should not be possible. Even the mightiest among them took time to walk a Pattern - and though he had never witnessed Dworkin himself undertake the task, this defied all known laws of power and endurance.
As they approached the Pattern’s origin point, their path was blocked. A Pattern Ghost - an echo of Corwin himself - materialized before them, standing guard. It bore Corwin’s likeness and emanated his strength, barring entry with silent resolve.
Kyle and Corin, however, had neither time nor patience for obstacles. They launched into battle without hesitation. Corin wielded her Logrus with raw, chaotic force, while Kyle unleashed his mastery of the Pattern in precision strikes. The spectral guardian fought with ferocity but could not stand against the combined might of two powers of Order and Chaos. It was destroyed in a blaze of unraveling light.
As the ghost dissipated, Kyle and Corin turned their gaze toward the centre of the Pattern - and saw Corwin.
He stood triumphant, holding the Unicorn aloft, its legs thrashing weakly in protest. Words of power thundered from his lips, ancient and terrible. Then came a blinding flash - a shockwave of energy that sent Kyle and Corin tumbling backwards, the ground quaking beneath them.
When the light faded, the Unicorn had changed.
Where there had been one, now there were two. The original creature - golden-maned and white-bodied - lay motionless. Beside it stood a second, newly formed and twisted: a dark twin with a silver mane and black fur, pulsing with unnatural power.
Another Pattern Ghost of Corwin emerged, summoned by Corwin’s command, and charged at Kyle and Corin. But the pair, already battle-hardened, dispatched it swiftly. The Pattern itself trembled with the force of their clash.
Corwin’s laughter echoed across the chamber - manic, jubilant, unrestrained.
“The old order ends,” he declared. “A new reality is coming. And none of you can stop it.”
With that, he vanished into Shadow, the black-and-silver Unicorn clutched beneath his arm, leaving chaos - and revelation - in his wake.
Before Kyle and Corin could fully gather themselves, a third Pattern Ghost of Corwin materialized - yet this one did not attack. It raised a hand in a gesture of peace and, before they could strike, it spoke.
It explained that without direct and immediate commands from its source, a Pattern Ghost retains a measure of autonomy. It assured them it meant no harm and would not oppose them. More intriguingly, it revealed a crucial limitation: only one such ghost can exist per Pattern Walker at a time - no new manifestation can form until the current one is either destroyed or dismissed.
This version of Corwin, it said, was an echo preserved from shortly after he had inscribed this Pattern - long before the descent into instability and obsession. Calm, rational, and eerily reflective, it spoke with a quiet urgency. It knew that something was profoundly wrong with its originator. Corwin was ill - fragmented - his mind and soul strained by the impossible burden of holding two Pattern imprints within him. The conflict between them, the Ghost warned, would continue to grow, and Corwin’s power, left unchecked, might soon eclipse the ability of any one - or even many - to contain it.
The Ghost admitted it lacked the perspective or memory to suggest a solution. Its knowledge was limited to the early days of the Pattern’s creation, before Corwin’s instability took root. However, it offered one vital insight: it could not exist, speak, or act independently unless the Pattern itself allowed it. That meant Corwin’s Pattern - this construct of Order - recognized the threat its creator posed. The Pattern was aware. It could not betray Corwin, nor seek his destruction, but in the moments when Corwin did not command it directly, it could permit the Ghost to act freely, even to warn others.
For now, the Ghost would do whatever it could to help - but always within the boundaries of its existence.
Taking that warning to heart, Kyle and Corin made several renewed attempts to contact Corwin, hoping to reason with him, to anchor him before he fell beyond reach. But every attempt failed. Corwin remained a ghost himself - distant, unreachable, and perhaps already too far gone.
While still standing at the edge of Corwin’s Pattern, Kyle began to receive a flurry of Trump contacts from various members of the family back in Amber. The connections felt muted, distant - likely a side effect of his proximity to a Primal Pattern, which distorted and resisted psychic reach. After several attempts, he was finally able to establish a clear connection.
The message was urgent: Amber was under attack.
Without hesitation, Kyle returned through Trump to the city. Corin, however, remained behind to keep watch over the two Unicorns - one pure, the other dark - still lingering at the center of Corwin’s Pattern, enigmatic and unmoving.
Upon Kyle’s arrival in Amber, the situation was already dire. Somehow, Annael had succeeded in slipping a sizable army through Shadow, bypassing the realm’s outer defenses and appearing at the very gates of the city. Chaos reigned. The battlefield outside Amber’s walls had erupted into full-scale war - far too large and chaotic for any single individual to challenge Annael directly.
William and Joshua, having been present since the onset of the attack, quickly brought Kyle up to speed. Despite the boldness of Annael’s maneuver, it became clear that he had badly miscalculated. He had underestimated Amber’s strength - especially with its Princes home and ready for war.
Julian, ever fearless, managed to close the distance to Annael but was ultimately driven back by the sheer force of the enemy’s troops. Still, momentum began to shift. Amber’s defenses held. Her counterattacks struck deep. And slowly, Annael’s advance began to falter.
Then Random entered the fray.
Leading a charge with the fury of a seasoned warrior-king, he broke through the enemy line and reached Annael himself. The two engaged in personal combat - steel against steel, power against power. At first, Random seemed to have the upper hand. But Annael’s skill was formidable. As the tide of battle turned further against him, Annael shifted strategy. Realizing defeat was near, he fought with ruthless precision, forcing Random onto the defensive.
Then came the unexpected blow.
With a guttural word and a burst of emerald light, Annael unleashed a devastating Power Word - stunning Random mid-strike. In that single, fatal moment of vulnerability, Annael drove a dagger deep into the King’s chest.
Random collapsed, gravely wounded.
The battlefield erupted in renewed fury. Gerard, seeing his brother fall, flew into a berserker rage. With brute force and unrelenting fury, he shattered the last of Annael’s defenses and carved a bloody path to Random’s side. Benedict, no less deadly but infinitely more composed, advanced with surgical precision, dispatching Annael’s elite with ruthless efficiency. With the momentum lost and defeat imminent, Annael made the only move left to him: he summoned his personal guard and Trumped away, abandoning his army.
Kyle rushed to Random’s side without hesitation. Knowing how perilous the King’s condition had become, he Trumped both of them to Random’s personal Shadow - a place equipped with the highest technology and advanced medicine. There, Kyle carefully removed the Jewel of Judgement from Random’s unconscious form, aware of its draining influence and the danger it posed to a weakened body.
Random’s life hung in the balance. The Jewel pulsed softly in Kyle’s hand.