Epilogue

                                    

                                          
You want to hate the Tidesinger for what he did; but you know as well as I do that he was just an instrument in a much more complicated orchestra
You want to love Achillean for who he was; but you, like I, cannot shift the image of everything that he had done, even if it turned out to be as inadvertent as a thorn scratch
Ingressus is no different; but life was never going to be simple. It still isn't
Author's note: the beginning is gonna sound like you've read this chapter before. technically, yes, the first three or so paragraphs are word-for-word from another chapter. I designed it like this. I like a good parallel XD
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The woodland area between Nestoria and Sendaria were among the calmest, stillest areas of Ardonia – very few people trod the paths between the clans until the beginning of the Great War. Before then, they were only a danger to those clad in red, as tangling with those clad in blue or yellow would be the end for them and, hence, very little occurred in those areas of fauna and flora.
At night, the canopy of the trees flowing lightly in the breeze would cast a strong shadow on the grasslands below, blocking the light of the moon shining bright as ever, only the smallest of beams breaking through the branches. It was cold amongst the trees, but that was never a problem for anyone who walked through. The only disturbance on most nights were the foxes as they leapt from bush to bush, diving in and out of cover, the young ones chasing each other's tails and rustling in the leaves.
On this particular night, the foxes were scared out of their amusements chasing rabbits by footsteps disturbing the ground on which they wandered. It was unusual for anyone to be walking this path late at night, but it was more so that an Ardoni would be.
This Ardoni had hidden his glow under thick black robes and a hood over his head to disguise his horns as he walked, for if anyone were to identify his colour, let alone his markings, it would unravel everything that he had spent so long protecting. He chose his walks carefully during these times, ensuring that no patrols would cross his path and he frequently looked over his shoulder to make sure that no-one followed him.
He had made this walk only twice before and thus, he had to be careful where he tread.
He took one more double-take over his shoulder to check behind him as he deviated from the trodden dirt path and darted behind a denser group of trees. In here, no shadow could be cast from the moon's luminescence as not a single beam slipped through the leaves overhead. It only added to the Ardoni's disguise as he blended in well with his surroundings.
With one last leer over his shoulder, the Ardoni bent down to the ground and began feeling his way along the grass, hooking his fingers, and searching for something to latch onto. Whether he knew where it was or not, in the dead of night and shadowed by trees, his eye failed to adjust. Eventually, after following the ground's edge and patting the grass, he found a handle and he pulled, opening a trap door in the ground. A small, low orange glow emanated from below, beckoning him down the wooden ladder.
Silently closing the trap door above him, he climbed down the ladder and landed in a dusty corridor, lit only by small Redstone torches, periodically dotted lining the stone and gravel walls.
He had been down here before. Once against his will and again when he had no other choice. He had been visiting ever since, covered by the dark night sky and the shadows of the trees once every moon cycle, against his better judgement. He would never part himself from this place and the secrets that it held after everything that he had endured, but he had learnt to accept it for now; he knew that dwelling on it all would only weigh him down further than he already was.