The Ukari

"It's that time then," Jassin said softly, his voice steady against the murmurs of the encampment and the patter of rain. His hand rested briefly on Akash's shoulder, a fleeting but firm gesture of trust. "Live long, Akash Dorher."

Akash nodded, watching as Jassin strode down a different path, his figure fading into the fog of the camp. Fallen stepped up beside Akash and Elys, his presence a looming shadow, silent and steadfast. Akash's gaze lingered on Jassin's retreating back.

"Ah! The Scythe Knight has returned," Akash said, forcing a lightness into his tone but keeping his eyes fixed on the direction Jassin had gone.

"Scythe Knight?" Fallen asked, his tone as flat and unamused as ever.

Akash glanced down at Elys, who stretched lazily and flicked her tail in clear dismissal of his attempt at humor. Even his feline companion wasn't indulging him today. He muttered under his breath, "I liked the name."

Fallen didn't acknowledge the comment. Instead, he shifted his weight, the massive scythe on his back gleaming faintly in the dim light. "The scythe was the weapon chosen for me when I was accepted into the Ukari," he said, his voice carrying a hint of something—reverence, perhaps, or nostalgia for a time long gone.

"The person who gave you that weapon must have had... interesting tastes," Akash said, raising a brow. "A farmer's tool for a warrior of your size?"

Fallen tilted his head slightly, and for the first time, there was a faint spark of amusement in his tone. "He was... an odd man."

Akash turned his attention to the looming structure ahead—the keep perched atop Mount Pyre. His gaze traced the jagged, slate-like rocks that made up the mountainside, rising sharply and unforgivingly toward the sky. It was a natural fortress, a nightmare for any would-be attacker. The keep itself was massive, with two cylindrical towers jutting upward like jagged teeth. Its base was wide, narrowing as it ascended, with thick stone walls connecting the towers. Somewhere within those walls lay the path to the Spire.

"An uphill assault on a stone fortress," Akash murmured, shaking his head. "Not ideal."

The silence stretched for a moment before Akash spoke again, his voice firmer this time. "As long as you have my back, I'll have yours."

"All the Ukari answer your call, Oathsworn," Fallen replied, his tone unwavering. "And I trust my sworn brothers with my life: Godric, Creed, Cadieus, Audacia, Aarani... they are the oldest of us, and they will carry out their duty as well as I. The others—fourteen Ukari in total—will watch over you as is our oath."

Akash shook his head. "I'm not talking about oaths or titles. I'm talking about you, Fallen. If you, the man named Fallen, have my back, then I'll watch yours."

Fallen hesitated, his towering form seeming to shift slightly, as if weighing the words. "Then, as a man—if you can call me that—I will ensure no one touches you."

"I can handle myself, you know," Akash said, though the faintest smile tugged at his lips.

"Oathsworn," Fallen replied simply, the word carrying weight beyond its simplicity.

Akash exhaled. "Why me, though? What makes me your Oathsworn?"

"You carry the Tridact," Fallen said matter-of-factly, his gaze lowering briefly to the sphere hanging from the chain around Akash's neck.

Akash's hand unconsciously moved to the sphere, his fingers brushing against its cold surface. It felt heavier than it should, not just in weight but in meaning. A symbol of his title—The Angel of the Red Sands—but also a reminder of Nakba, of the price paid for him to carry this burden. Did he truly deserve to bear it? Did he deserve to hold the title, or was it a lie wrapped in grandeur?

He shook the thoughts away and redirected the conversation. "What are your thoughts on the plan?"

"I've heard worse," Fallen replied, his tone practical. "An ambush, if executed correctly, could allow the Dauntless Company to seize control of the keep."

"But the Spire depends on the keeps being taken," Akash pointed out.

Fallen inclined his head. "Yes. The cannons on the keep will be instrumental in the final assault. It's a sound plan."

Akash nodded, his mind drifting briefly to Jassin. "He's leading the charge on Dragon Fang Keep for a reason. Jassin won't fail."

"It is wise to put him in command," Fallen agreed. "We shall see if Sovran Vyn Azure can match him and hold his part of the bargain."

Akash smirked. "Vyn's plans are unconventional, but they work. I trust him."

"You are wise to have close allies in war," Fallen said, though his tone carried a note of caution. "But tread carefully around the Oathbreakers. They wear Reem's snakes boldly, yet I wonder if they understand what it truly means."

Reem. The serpent goddess of betrayal. Her symbol was both a warning and a promise: tread lightly, for even allies could turn on you. Fallen's words sat heavily in Akash's mind as they continued walking.

As they reached the camp's edge, they spotted Veneres instructing a group of men. His voice cut sharply through the rain.

"Quickly now! I grow tired of waiting for you to understand the simplest of instructions. My patience is not limitless," Veneres barked, his tone sharp but precise.

The man was an imposing figure. His armor was bulkier than most, scale-plated with gleaming silver and veins of lapis running through the open sections. A mechanical device rested on his arm, ready to swing his massive axe with lethal precision. A sword hung at his hip, an elegant counterbalance to the brutal strength of his axe. He stood tall and unyielding, every inch the warrior of legend. It was easy to see why songs had already begun comparing him to the Exalted.

Akash's eyes lingered on him. How could anyone think we'd lose? he thought. With leaders like Dante, Jassin, and Veneres, the Dauntless Company felt unstoppable. Only something truly unforeseen could hinder their advance.

"Dorher," Veneres called out, his voice cutting through Akash's thoughts.

"Veneres," Akash replied, his tone polite but clipped.

"I expect Mount Pyre to bear the Dauntless Company's banner by morning," Veneres said, his words as much an order as a prediction. "The Angel of the Red Sands will stand atop those walls, gazing down at the Spire."

Akash's gaze met Veneres'. "We'll succeed," he said firmly, stepping past the man. "But not because you commanded it."

Veneres muttered under his breath, loud enough for Akash to catch, "A joke. Sometimes I forget that's all you are."

Akash's jaw tightened, but he didn't turn back. The clash of their personalities was nothing new—Veneres's cold confidence against Akash's fiery defiance. They both wanted victory, but their approaches couldn't have been more different.

Still, Akash couldn't deny the effect Veneres had on the troops. His unshakable confidence inspired them, gave them something to believe in. Akash envied that, even as he bristled at it. He envied how Veneres seemed so certain, so perfect. Akash was nothing like him.

He's everything I'm not, Akash thought bitterly. While I'm a fraud. A sham.

Nakba stirred faintly in his mind, an unwanted reminder of the demon inside him. They called him an Angel, but Akash knew better. He was no savior—just a flawed man carrying a title he didn't deserve.

"Are you ready for a bloody night?" Fallen's voice cut through his thoughts.

Akash glanced up, his expression hardening. "It's the only kind of night I know."

"That's a rather bleak outlook," came a familiar voice.

Akash turned to see Vyn approaching, his signature grin firmly in place. He raised a hand in greeting, his movements as casual as ever despite the tension hanging in the air.

"The archers will have trouble aiming in the Lunar Storms," Fallen said, ignoring Vyn's cheery tone. "And our men fight against stone walls. It'll be a slaughter."

Vyn shrugged. "It's a colossal keep. Who needs precision? If one arrow kills an enemy, that's good enough for me."

"A waste of arrows," Akash countered.

"Better to waste arrows than men," Vyn quipped, his grin widening.

The camp was alive with activity now. Men saddled lesh, horses, and woollarks, while others sharpened khopeshes and oiled their weapons. The air was thick with tension, anticipation for the coming battle.

Akash looked toward the mountain again, the silhouette of Mount Pyre looming against the stormy sky. "We need to take the keep quickly," he said, his voice resolute.

Fallen gripped his scythe tightly. "Then lead, Oathsworn. The Ukari will follow."