Nidaba adjusted her hood carefully, her fingers tracing the worn edges of the fabric. The cloak was plain, indistinguishable from any other in Utu's bustling streets. She glanced at Isabeli, who seemed uneasy but determined. They walked side by side, stepping into the heart of the city, their senses alert for anything useful.

The streets hummed with activity as merchants peddled wares and voices rose in passionate debate. It wasn’t long before Nidaba caught fragments of a conversation that made her stop. A gruff voice mentioned Elpenor. He was leading the southern villa in a campaign against the north, and it seemed he had the backing of the Reheka courts. But something more troubling surfaced: murmurs of the queen favoring the Mertu brothers, igniting tension that threatened to splinter the city's fragile stability.

Before she could hear more, a guard stormed toward the citizen speaking out, his anger palpable. Nidaba’s breath caught as his hand darted out, ready to strike. Just as quickly, it was intercepted. A commanding voice broke through the chaos. “Save your strength,” the captain said sharply. “We’ll need it for the battle.”

The exchange cemented a kernel of strategy in Nidaba’s mind. She clutched Isabeli’s arm, steering them away from the scene. “We need to act swiftly,” she muttered. Back at their temporary refuge, she began mapping the city, every alleyway and landmark carefully etched into her mind. Her earth magic danced under her control, channeling coal beneath the streets to form intricate networks. She focused relentlessly, ensuring every path avoided the Mertu brothers. Her plan unfurled like a tapestry: when the city erupted in chaos, blame would fall squarely on them.

Meanwhile, Isabeli helped her disseminate rumors. Their propaganda was precise, suggesting the queen’s grip was slipping and the Mertu brothers were plotting to burn the city for profit. Strategic caches of bricks hidden beneath the Mertu brothers' slave store added credibility to their tale, setting a perfect stage for suspicion.

The tension in Utu mounted as the day of the battle approached. Nidaba could feel the city vibrating with suppressed energy, a storm waiting to break. She and Isabeli blended effortlessly into the crowd, watching their plans take root. Citizens whispered, soldiers grew restless, and the air thickened with apprehension.

But one evening, as they walked back through the labyrinthine streets, Nidaba noticed the sharp, heavy steps of someone approaching. The captain emerged from the shadows, his piercing gaze locked on them. “You’ll come with me,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Her heart raced as they followed him, the weight of their cloaks feeling heavier with each step. The corridor leading to his office was dim, the flicker of torches illuminating wary faces. Murmurs floated through the air—soldiers questioning the captain’s motives, speculating about the queen’s intentions.

Nidaba’s mind churned as they neared the captain’s office. She tried to anticipate his questions, preparing herself for whatever revelations or accusations lay ahead. Isabeli stayed quiet beside her, tension etched across her face. They stepped into the office, the door closing behind them, sealing their fates in the dimly lit room.

The captain’s office was dim, illuminated only by the waning light of a lone lantern. Nidaba and Isabeli sat stiffly in their chairs, their cloaks heavy on their shoulders despite the warmth of the room. The sound of the door shutting behind them resonated with finality, and Nidaba's heart quickened as the captain turned to face them.

“I know you’ve been spreading the rumors,” he said, his voice low and steady, but brimming with a weight that made both of their pulses race. Nidaba’s mind immediately began churning, searching for a way to talk her way out of the situation. But before her lips parted, the captain surprised her.

“I want to help you.”

The words hung in the air, disarming them both. Nidaba glanced at Isabeli, who sat frozen in disbelief. Gathering her composure, Nidaba asked cautiously, “Why?”

The captain stepped closer, his face drawn with the shadows of an old grief. “The Mertu brothers,” he began, his voice bitter, “they killed my father. When I was away on a mission, they sold my mother into slavery. They had the queen’s protection, and no one dared to charge them. She’s still gone. And I want justice—for her, for my father, for everything they’ve done.”

Nidaba leaned forward slightly, her analytical mind already piecing together the possibilities. The captain’s personal vendetta made him a valuable ally, but how much could she trust his loyalty to the cause? Still, his authority was an opportunity she couldn't overlook.

“It would be helpful,” she said carefully, “if you could find a way to evacuate the citizens from the city before the battle. We need to make sure there are no witnesses to the torching.”

The captain nodded thoughtfully, and a flicker of resolve sparked in his eyes. “There’s one way. We could declare a Moon of Power—the citizens would gather to watch the battle from a safe distance outside the city. I’m the only one with the authority to call it.”

Nidaba felt her mind whirl with possibilities. A Moon of Power was the perfect cover to rid the city of its inhabitants without raising suspicion. “Then it’s settled,” she said, her voice steady. “We’ll plan on it.”

For days, they worked together in secret, refining their strategy. The tension in the city was palpable, each passing moment a string stretched tighter. When the day of the battle finally arrived, Nidaba’s senses were heightened. The city lay eerily quiet, its streets deserted save for a few guards stationed in anticipation of the coming fight.

As the appointed time neared, Nidaba and Isabeli moved swiftly under the cover of dusk. The coal lines Nidaba had woven through the city with her earth magic now hummed with latent energy. Her hand hovered above the ignition point for just a moment before pressing the torch down.

The first coal line ignited with a deep, resonant thrum, its heat traveling swiftly underground like a serpent. Nidaba stared ahead, watching the sparks dance across her network. This was the beginning. The city would burn, and when the flames rose, the blame would fall squarely upon the Mertu brothers.

The queen’s protection had shielded them for too long, but now they would taste the consequences of their unchecked greed. Nidaba tightened her grip on her cloak and nodded to Isabeli, who looked back at her with fierce determination. Together, they would shape the chaos to their design. The battle—and the inferno—had begun.

As the captain marched toward the battlefield, his mind churned with the strategy he would soon discuss with Elpenor, the leader of the opposing army. The sight of the Villa's elite warriors—adorned in impenetrable armor—and the Bennukar soldiers of Reheka brandishing their extraordinary weapons sent a chill through his resolve. Yet, amidst the clamor of readiness and power, an idea emerged: perhaps he could topple the mighty Utu army he led while aiding the rebellion. All it would take was a secret pact with Elpenor, one that wouldn’t brand him a traitor outright.

Near the command tent, the captain hesitated. He turned to his guards and commanded them to return to the camp, claiming he would be fine on his own. As he stepped inside the tent, the tension of the air almost suffocated him. Elpenor greeted him with an unsettling, psychotic smile that revealed glinting teeth—his expression wild, almost inhuman. For a fleeting moment, the captain thought the man resembled a defective Nephilan, a broken man. In Elpenor’s presence, the captain felt as though he were a helpless rabbit caught in the gaze of a shadow owl—fragile and vulnerable.

Confidence flickering, the captain forced himself to speak. "Do you know a Gorgonkin named Nidaba?" he asked, his voice betraying his unease. But before the final syllable left his lips, Elpenor’s hand shot out, slamming the captain’s neck against the table with startling strength. A dagger gleamed inches from his skin as Elpenor snarled, "Tell me where my woman is, or I'll gut you slowly—heal you—and do it all over again if I must."

The captain choked on his words but quickly spilled the truth. He confessed that Nidaba was aiding him in framing the Mertu brothers for the city's destruction and planning the rebellion. He promised not betrayal, but alliance. Elpenor hesitated for a moment, his fiery glare subsiding just enough. He released the captain and leaned back. "How is Nidaba?" he asked, voice quieter but still predatory.

"She's well," the captain replied hoarsely, rubbing his neck. "She's helping ensure the rebellion succeeds, providing the perfect scapegoats for our enemies."

With newfound intensity, the captain laid out a grim offering—a list of soldiers loyal to the Mertu brothers. "Eliminate them," he said. "In return, I will surrender my forces and aid you in seizing the capital. Here is a map of the castle's weak points and another showing Nidaba’s location."

Elpenor’s cruel smile returned as he took the maps. After the captain departed, Elpenor brooded over how close he was to reuniting with Nidaba. The prospect lit a fire within him that bordered on obsession. He summoned his most trusted men—Utu and Lugal—to carry out the assassinations, promising blood for to those loyal to the mertu brothers. Meanwhile, he planned a distraction with the Bennukar soldiers to draw enemy eyes away from the true plot.

Elpenor’s forces divided: Ziusudra and a small group of warriors would locate Nidaba, ensuring she remained unharmed, while the main contingent joined Elpenor in bringing chaos to the city. He envisioned the moment when the captain would surrender, handing the capital to his grasp.

War brewed, but for Elpenor, victory was more than conquest—it was reunion, justice, and perhaps vengeance.

Amidst the clash of blades and the chaotic din of battle, Elpenor moved with calculated precision, his presence a beacon of command among the Reheka soldiers. They fought fiercely yet deliberately, wielding their weapons with skill, ensuring the soldiers loyal to the captain were incapacitated but not slain. Elpenor’s eyes, however, were fixed elsewhere—on the chaos and on his lieutenants, Utu and Lugal. Both carved a swift, lethal path through the fray, their movements purposeful and deadly as they sought out the soldiers who stood steadfast with the Mertu brothers. One by one, the targets fell, their heads gathered in grim trophies that filled the heavy bag slung over Lugal's shoulder.

When the last Mertu loyalist met their end, the two returned, blood-splattered and victorious, presenting the bag to Elpenor. He took it with a sharp nod, his expression unreadable but his mind alight with resolve. As his soldiers expertly shifted their formation to maintain control of the battlefield, Elpenor pressed forward, carrying the macabre parcel. Every step he took seemed heavier with intent, the anticipation of confrontation sharpening his every sense.

He reached the captain's position, ensuring that the attention of his troops stayed firmly fixed on him, their leader. With a flourish of his magic, Elpenor slammed his palm to the ground, summoning an earthen barrier that rose between them and the rest of the battlefield. The structure bristled with holes, amplifying and echoing the sounds within so that the captain's loyalists could hear every word. Behind the wall, the Reheka soldiers and those from the Villa fell back at his unspoken command, leaving the captain’s soldiers to face the overwhelming reality of their leader’s predicament.

Elpenor dropped the bag unceremoniously onto the ground before the captain. A cascade of bloodied heads spilled out, a chilling testament to his ruthless efficiency. His voice rang out, deep and reverberating within the hollow chamber of earth.

"Do you see?" Elpenor declared, his words deliberate and laden with authority. "Surrender, Captain. Join me and the rest of your men, and your queen will be spared. The blood I seek is not yours. It is theirs—those Mertu brothers who plan to burn your city as they tried to burn mine."

The captain’s face was pallid, his composure shattered by the brutal display before him. Yet Elpenor could see a flicker of something else—relief, perhaps, or recognition of shared purpose. Slowly, the captain lowered his weapon and knelt.

"I will fight you no longer," the captain said, his voice steady despite the circumstances. "You seem to be a friend, not an enemy, of the queen."

Elpenor allowed a rare smile to graze his lips as he released the barrier. The sound of the battlefield softened, and the soldiers on both sides hesitated, watching with bated breath. In a gesture of finality, the Utu soldiers ceased their fighting and knelt before Elpenor, mirroring the captain’s submission. The moment carried with it the weight of a silent promise—of rebellion, of conquest, and of vengeance.

"What are your orders?" the captain asked, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.

Elpenor gazed across the field and then toward the horizon, where the next phase of his war awaited. "Rise, Captain," he said simply. "We have a city to claim."