Surviving A Novel I Don't Remember: A Tutor's Guide To Staying Alive

"I am fine, Lucien," Julian whispered back, a small, genuine smile softening his features as he looked at Alaric and their son.

He could feel the god’s lingering sorrow fading into the background of his subconscious, replaced by his own stubborn, mortal drive to survive.

"The connection between him and me is active, but it is stable. Yet," He placed his hand over his chest. "...the sooner we finish here and march, the better. I want this over with."

"We will end it," Alaric said flatly, his jaw setting into that stubborn, lethal line. "No matter what that fallen god has waiting at the pass."

Julian nodded. He was glad Alaric was here. He was a great emotional and mental support.

By the time the afternoon light began to wane outside the Spire, the entire arsenal of the northern knight order—along with the elite vanguard of the Holy Knights—stood fully insulated, their weapons vibrating with an unyielding white light.

The air in the sanctuary was no longer stagnant; it was charged with a heavy, martial frequency.

Julian walked out of the subterranean depths and back into the main hall, flanked by Alaric and the knights. The time for gathering resources and lecturing the council was officially over.

Lucius was left with Castor and the Church. Julian still did not trust the church, but he trusted Castor, and he trusted their fear not to do anything to the child.

Lucius hugged Julian tight, wrapping his small arms around Julian’s neck. And then he hugged his father. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"Be brave and wait for us," Alaric said to the boy.

Lucius sniffled, burying his wet nose into Alaric’s neck for a brief second before pulling away, his small blond curls messy but his face full of a fierce, miniature version of his father’s determination.

"I’ll be brave," the boy promised, his voice cracking slightly, but his blue eyes staying wide and serious. "I’ll watch over the Spire for you, Daddy. For you too..." He turned to Julian and instead of using ’Master’ he said, "...Mummy."

Julian felt a profound tug in his chest at the word, a warm, protective ache that made his baseline divinity hum with a protective barrier around the child.

He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Lucius’s forehead, silently leaving a trace of his own holy light to the boy’s skin. If anyone so much as thought about harming a hair on this child’s head, Julian would know it instantly.

It would help him know when the child was in danger.

One knight was left with him, though. That red-haired knight that was quite attractive. His name was Morfe. He swore to protect the heir of the Duchy with his life.

Julian stood up and looked at Castor, who was standing a few paces away.

He looked uncharacteristically tense, his bright chestnut hair messy, but his posture was straight. He met Julian’s vibrant blue eyes and gave a firm, unprompted nod.

"I’ll guard him with my life too, Saint Julian," Castor said, his voice dropping its usual casual tone, replaced by an earnest, desperate need to prove himself useful to the person he found so incredibly cool. "The council won’t even be allowed in the same wing as him. I’ll make sure of it."

"If anything happens to him, Castor," Alaric warned, his deep voice carrying a cold, lethal frequency that made the surrounding stone wall feel tight, "you do know that there won’t be a Holy Empire left for you to inherit. Do you understand me?"

Castor swallowed hard, his grey eyes widening as he forced a smile, but he didn’t back down.

"I understand, Duke Alaric."

Julian gave one last look at Lucius, forcing his lips into a calm, reassuring smile, and then turned away. He didn’t want to stretch out the goodbye; the longer they delayed, the more time Norx had to warp the southern pass.

"Let’s move," Julian commanded flatly, his scholar’s cadence returning as he took the lead.

They exited the heavy stone arches of the Spire and descended into the courtyard, where the horses were already saddled and waiting.

Julian mounted his horse with a smooth, fluid grace, adjusting the reins as his vibrant blue robes settled over the saddle.

Alaric swung himself up onto his massive black stallion right beside him. His large hand rested casually on the hilt of his insulated sword, his frame projecting the raw, terrifying aura of an apex predator ready to hunt a god.

Behind them, Kaelen and the northern vanguard mounted their own steeds in perfect alignment. And so did the Holy Knights.

As the horses kicked up the courtyard dust, the knights’ weapons and armor glinted with that eerie, beautiful silver-white resonance, cutting sharply through the dimming afternoon light.

"Let’s go."

With a sharp command, they spurred their horses forward, bursting through the outer gates of the Holy City.

The thundering of hundreds of hooves echoed against the stone roads as the vanguard rode at a breakneck pace toward the bleeding violet horizon of the south.

As the vanguard marched the ridge of the upper valley, they found the raw devastation that had clawed at the place, and the thundering of the hooves slowed into a heavy, tactical trot.

Ahead of them, the southern pass stretched out with colors that didn’t seem natural. Almost like... the earth was bleeding.

The sky above was no longer a natural evening twilight; it had bruised into a sickening, thick shade of violet that seemed to press down heavily on the mountain peaks.

​The air here tasted completely different. It was bitter, suffocating, and carried the distinct, copper stench of fresh blood mixed with the sulfurous rot of the void.

​Julian pulled back slightly on his reins, his stallion letting out a low, uneasy huff as its hooves stomped against the cracked dirt. Behind him, the northern vanguard and the Holy Knights immediately halted in perfect, disciplined alignment.

The silver-white resonance coating their swords and armor cast a clean, protective glow into the darkening surroundings, acting as a small island of absolute purity in the middle of the encroaching rot.

​"It’s worse than the reports stated," Commander Nadic murmured, riding his mount up to the side, his grey eyes scanning the low valley below.