The River

Silas and Cleo stumbled onto the Drakshire. It's wide banks blocked their path, the clanging of metallic feet approaching them got louder. Cleo panted heavily resting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. They haven't stopped running since they were found together in the house. He knelt in front of her, adjusting the collars of her leather jacket before flicking the switch on the panel she clipped to her waist. Her shield was activated. This would not do much against the blades the Mechanical Army wielded but ranged weapons would be rendered useless.

Her eyes shimmered with tears her sapphire green pupils widened as she thought of what Silas was about to do. He stroked her dark brown hair, playfully messing with the ponytail filled with flowers he braided her only a few hours prior. 

"Hide." Silas commanded her. His personality switched. This was no longer Silas, the lonely man she met hidden in a broken house. This personality was the personality of Lord Silas Ardentis, Keeper of Time, Breaker of one's own chains. The one true Ardentis Heir. She scurried away hiding herself from sight as commanded. 

Only a fool would meet the Mechanical Army in an open field but Silas was no fool. He knew what happens to metal after a period of time. It rusts and corrodes. His watch ticked slowly and ominously. But this was not because he was in danger, at this moment, who was in danger? Was it the detachment of metal soldiers rapidly approaching their maker with orders from the usurpers? Or was it the Timekeeper with no idea of the powers that have taken root and lurk within his body? Dusty clouds rose within the distance from each step the detachment took. And over the sandy dune that approached the river, he could see the small squadron, no more than fifty, approaching. They broke into his sight like the dawn over the horizon. A smile played on his lips though his eyes told a different story, they burned with fear. 

"Concentrate Silas" He told himself silently, his breath slowing steadied. 

The sound of the ticking in his head intensified, his eyes changed into a white colour as his feet left the ground in a gentle ascension. The mechanical soldiers were now only a short distance away from Silas. They locked in on their target and approach blinded by commands to capture him alive, unaware of what he was trying to do. A pulse escaped from his body and the mechs stopped in place unable to move, spots of rusts started to appear on their metallic bodies as if they've been in that spot for years. His eyes returned to normal and he fell back to Xandria. His eyes slowly closed from exhaustion, the last thing he saw was Cleo running from her hiding spot to be at his side. He smiled gently before going unconscious, only waking hours later being carried by a rather large creature surrounded by people, dressed in white robes that shimmered with patterns that resembled flowing water. He looked around in panic trying to find Cleo, eventually seeing her walking with a man who was dressed in black robes and a hood that covered his face, his gaze switched from the man to her wrists and feet, making sure they weren't being captured. 

"These aren't slavers." he thought to himself. He tried to escape the grip of the creature, who refused to release him. Silas stared at the black-hooded man and started to scream at him. The escort came to a sudden halt as the man appeared in front of Silas floating ominously. He stared at him awkwardly. 

"What are you?" Silas asked, dumbfounded. 

A skinny dark-skinned hand rose from under the robe and removed the hood from his face. It was indeed a man but not like other men. This man had a bald head and didn't appear to be physically old. However, he was wise beyond his years, with a depth of experiences that seemed to transcend his youthful appearance. 

"Ardentis..." The dark man said, giving a small bow. "Unhand him." 

The creature complied and placed the Ardentis heir gently on his feet. Cleo ran to him and threw her small body into his arms, hugging him tightly. She buried her face into his chest. 

"Thank you for saving us." She whispered to him faintly. Her eyes streamed as her tears got onto his shirt.

"I never expected the Timekeeper to be an Ardentis," The black-robed man said in a shock as he rubbed his bald head. 

Silas remained silent as he walked away, still holding Cleo in his arms.

"Wait!" The man shouted at him. "These men have been searching for you for their whole lives, many perished for generations searching for you."

Silas stopped in his tracks, he turned around and stared at the man. 

"You are hope, Silas. You are the future. You are the future that could be." The man said.

"I've read about you and your fanatical bunch." Silas murmured, his voice measured. "Robes flowing like the rivers of time..." 

"This must be the Hourbound, meaning you're the seeker." 

The man's smile told Silas everything he needed to confirm his suspicion. Turning away, he cast a glance at the crowd, their heads bowed in reverence. Cleo raised her head from his shoulder and looked around. Confusion played on his face once more.

"Do they bow in fear or in faith?" He asked in an almost whisper.

The man chuckled softly. "Neither, Ardentis," he replied, his tone was calm and assured. "They bow simply because they understand inevitability."

The prince's gaze hardened.

"Time bends to will as much as it does to fate. Inevitability is a comfort for those who are too afraid to change their course. Time is my weapon, my tool, and it will destroy the comfort of inevitability and restore fate," Silas said in a commanding tone, his voice ringing with authority. For a fleeting moment, it almost sounded like his father.

The man before him faltered, his head dipping lower in a bow so deep it seemed he might press his forehead to the ground. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists at his sides, the weight of Silas's words pressing against him like an unseen force. "You are the son of prophecy," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, reverence and awe lacing every syllable. He dared to look up for the briefest moment, his wide eyes glinting with a mixture of fear and hope, before quickly averting his gaze again.

Silas kneeled, bringing himself to the man's level. His tone was steady but laced with a quiet authority.

"What is your name?"

The man hesitated, his eyes darting between Silas and the shadows that seemed to stretch and coil around them like living things.

"T-Tobias. Tobias Ashenholt." He stammered. 

Silas studied him carefully, his expression unreadable. "Ashenholt," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue as though testing its weight. "You are the last of your line."