B3 Chapter 8 – Stories

Destroyers.
An ancient label given to those of great power by their kind.
Unrivaled beings who held life and death within the palm of their hands, supported by
iron wills capable of shaping the world itself.

As a phraene, she had only ever heard from the preserved ones of a different time.
Of a different world in which men and their kind coexisted, living side by side, feeding upon the ambrosia of the world together.
A paradise, that came to an abrupt end upon the emergence of those whom they would later call Destroyers.
Stories of men and women, fallen due to their greed and insatiable lust in the pursuit of power.
Beings, who consumed and destroyed everything in their paths, ultimately forcing the division of worlds.

And though it was now a different world and they could not be certain if the being that was waking is one as such, like a fallen star, it had descended upon their lands and taken a piece of their forest with it. Even now, its terrible power could still be felt emanating from its cocoon of light. Unfathomable and limitless, it was a power that even the old ones had never felt before.

“Elamara, I don’t feel good. We should go.”
Her sister whimpered from beside her, voice terrified and tearful.

“Wait.” She replied, watching as the cocoon shimmered and resonated with the powerful pressure now erupting from within.

“The Shii warned us. We’re going to be in trouble if he finds out.” Another terrified whisper, loud enough for her to hear but soft enough that she could almost tangibly feel the fear within.

“Can you be quiet, Ulamara? Something is definitely happening.” She replied, eyes locked onto the gorgeous light that continued to pulse from the cocoon.

For nine suns she had come to watch the object against the cautions of their Shii. And now, something was finally happening. She was not about to miss it.

“Ela, I’m scared!”

Turning to her sister, “If you’re scared then go. Even if they are a Destroyer, it’s not like they can see me.”  

“But Ela…”

Seeing the look of worry on her twin sister’s face, “I’m fine. Look. I’m not scared.” Putting her hands to her waist, she puffed her chest out bravely. “See? Not even scared. And we’ve already warned everyone who came here, so no one’s going to get hurt.”

“I’m scared, Ela… and my chest… it- it’s starting again.”

“NNnn!!! You’re so annoying, Ula! Why did you even come?!” She exclaimed, seeing the sour look of creeping discomfort upon her sister’s expression.

“Please Ela…”

Deathly curious but not willing to endanger her own sister, “Fine!” Taking Ulamara’s hand, she reached down and plucked a leaf from the small branch upon which they were standing.
Fanning it once in the air, the space before them distorted as a translucent breeze began circulating in its place.
Fanning it a second time, the breeze halted and a small portal slowly manifested before them as the leaf disintegrated into ashes.
“Let’s go then. You first.”
Stepping aside to allow her sister into the portal, she turned to take one last look at the cocoon.

It was shining even brighter than before.

“Uhg! Ela! My- my chest!”

The sensation of her sister’s hand suddenly collapsing to the ground forced her to quickly turned back around.
Her eyes widened upon spotting Ulamara writhing before her, hands clutched to her chest.
“Ula? Ula!!”
She cried out in panic, seeing the agony upon her sister’s face.

“E-Ela! It- It hurts!”
Ulamara cried back, barely able to voice her pain.

“H-hurry! Get in the- no…” Looking up from where her sister was laying, the portal she had created was also disappearing before them. “Help!!” She screamed out, hoping that those beyond would hear her.
“Someone help!!” And like a whisper, her voice held itself to the daunting silence of the forest as a tidal wave of mana crashed through them both.

“AHHHH!!”

Ulamara’s agonizing scream drowned out her thoughts and she instinctively turned her terrified eyes toward the origin of the overpowering surge.
Holding her sister in her arms, she could feel her own lips quivering in indescribable fear as she watched the cocoon crack, shattering into millions of beautiful pieces.

 

***

 

The warmth that had invaded the void of his subconscious flared like a turbulent storm around him. Hot but not burning, it continued to weave through his limbs and hair like a nostalgic flame, caressing his body carefully and protectively.

Opening his eyes, in contrast to the dark and empty void of the nightmare, the illusion of an empty world encased in pure white radiance settled upon him.
“Haaa…” Taking a deep and liberating breath, by his will, mana surged forth into all corners of his very being, strengthening his body.

“Master.” A disjointed yet familiar voice, it caused the white world around him to pulse and undulate as if filled with indefinable exhilaration and reverence.

Carefully stretching himself in the air so as not to miss the most minor of injuries that might have occurred during his slumber, he mindfully extended his legs downward and commanded his body to the ground.
“Vishan.” Speaking the spirit’s name, the world of light that had been surrounding him splintered into millions of particles and then converged into a fist sized orb of pure white before him. “Thank you.” He voiced as he took in their surroundings.

Far from the dark and rotting forests that he had descended upon that evening, a verdant garden had sprouted up around them.
Thick patches of grass that was as tall as his waist littered the clearing alongside colorful flowers that bloomed in all assortments of shapes and sizes. Even small saplings and bushes that had no place in such a garden existed within the chaos, giving the clearing a disorderly feel.

Looking down at himself, his clothes had disappeared alongside his rucksack and everything within it. All the money he had been carrying, his xeberite sword, his utensils, the meticulously drawn map that he had been using thus far, even the communication rings that he had created. The only objects that he could still feel around him, were the three shards of the Nyzacus mirrors that he had been carrying around.

“There Is No Greater Purpose.” The orb pulsed, its voice vibrating visibly through the air in colorful refractions.

Taking his eyes away from their surroundings and his mind from the fact that all his belongings had vanished along with his sword, “How long?” He questioned, reeling in his senses and memories as recollections of the pain that evening slowly returned, reminding him of the outburst of uncontrollable power that he had unleashed upon his vicinity at the time.

“Nine Days and ten nights.” A succinct answer from the spirit as if it had been expecting such an inquiry.

Blatantly ignoring the emergence of a small curious creature that had begun prowling cautiously around them both, his eyes quietly leveled upon the luxuriant clearing of lush vegetation once again. “Nine…” He echoed as a bout of anger slowly crept upon his mind and mana continued to revitalized his body.

The torrent of power that day as Hasen pulled the ethereal darkness of Lagus into the lavender plane of existence, compounded by Feziel’s subsequent unsealing and fortification of the city in order to withstand Hasen’s might. In unison with a darker and more sinister element that had been biding its time within his very memories, the mental ambush had shattered the thin veneer of control upon his unsuspecting mind.

He clenched his fists, recalling just how close he had come to being consumed by the ghosts of his past once again.  
“Forgive Us, Master.”

Taken aback at the apology, “There is nothing to apologize for.” Kaidus replied, bringing up his fists. “It was my own weakness that forced us into this situation.”
Releasing the pointless anger, he closed his eyes and refocused his mind.
Like looking through a window, the incorporeal realm of Lagus manifested before his mind’s eyes.

Though an infinite plane of existence comparable to that of the stars in the sky, at a mere thought, the presence of his three wayward spirits immediately surged before him.
Taking a deep breath, their essences burst through the re-establish link that had been severed by the nightmare and coursed into his body, revitalizing it even more as his will continued forth upon them.
With a quick verification of their positions, without so much as another thought, he released the connection once again.

As if it had been waiting for a chance to strike, “GUaaarrRR! RaaAUR!” The sound of a condescending growl, followed by a sudden burst of familiar mana whipped forth at him from behind.

“Mas-”

Without waiting for Vishan’s interference, he swiftly blocked the attack with a mana barrier and turned around to greet his aggressor. “You’ve been waiting quite patiently… what are you?” He questioned, flinging the thick vine that had been coming at him back at the creature.

“GAuu?!” The small feline snapped in surprise before quickly leaping a considerable distance away.
With its posture firmly on all four, it suddenly lifted its head and arched its back. “GRRRAAUURR!” And roared, sending a powerful shockwave outward.
The coat of fine emerald green fur upon it glistened mesmerizingly as the shock washed through its body and then began glowing.

The grounds whereupon it stood suddenly burst into life with thousands of roots.
Pushing the small creature upward like a sovereign by its subjects, the roots began merging around the feline, eventually extending outward into long gaping arms of intertwining roots and vines. Coiling together and strengthening itself, large gargantuan fists dragged themselves out of the ground and the mass slowly uprooted itself as makeshift legs emerged with thick trunk-like vines.
Before long, an enormous root golem stood towering before him with the small feline at its core.

“Insolent.” The light crackled irately at the beast and quickly moved in between them.

But, “Vishan.” At his word, the light spirit halted itself and immediately dissipated. Unfazed by the abomination before him, Kaidus stepped forth.
Though he had been uncertain before, he could now feel his own mana surging within the small beast. Looking at it, it was neither angry nor bloodthirsty, but anxious. “You wish to test me with my own strength?” He voiced and extended his right arm forward. “Come.”

“RRUUUAAA!!”
The emerald green feline hollered from within and in contrast to its size, the golem instantly rushed forth. On all four like an animal with its gigantic arms clawing at the earth to propel itself forward, it shot at him like a moving boulder.

Moving his extended hand into a claw stance, he pointed all five fingers at the colossus. “Pierce.”
At his command, five rays of pure white lights tore into the golem, shattering and splitting apart the mass of moving roots as he twist his hand in midair.

“GRaaar!?!” As if crying out at the suddenly destruction of its extended self, the cat quickly abandoned its decaying husk and lurched into the air. Spinning forward like a vortex, thin vine-like tails emerged from its back and shot outward like razor whips.

Sucking in a deep breath, he immediately strengthened his arm with mana and changed his claw stance into a palm stance.
Easily evading the unrelenting ends of the cat’s tails as they spun down for his head, he instantly pressed his right foot forward and braced himself as his infused palm shot out at the beast before it could hit the ground.

Catching it by its side in the air, his thrust forcefully dug into the creature and sent it careening back against the foliage, leaving a small trail of uprooted and displaced plants in its wake.

“Now tell me… what did I do to incur this ire?” The words weaved themselves through the air as he calmly made his way toward the beast, bypassing a circle of dead vines that was already there by the time he woke up.

Beaten and while looking quite frightened, instead of submitting, “Grrr… GArrrr!” The small beast growled again and placed an unstable front paw forward as if to stand it’s ground.

A playful guardian flashed before his eyes, its menacing but proud posture all too similar to what he had just seen.
“I do not remember granting one such as yourself the privilege of my essence nor can I recall ever seeing you before, but… you do remind me of something… of someone else.”

“Grrrrr… Raaur!!” Another roar.

Though weaker than before, the shock rippled through the ground and ruptured the growth around the small beast, summoning another wave of roots and vines upward. This time instead of unifying into a golem, they rushed to the creature’s aid and began twisting protectively into a barrier of wooden spikes before it.

“You still wish to continue?” Slowing his steps to a halt, he stared at the recoiling beast.
It was undoubtedly as powerful as Zeeke, Zorin’s overseer, but there was something else about the creature before him. A presence of regality, a sense of comprehensive will and intuitiveness that easily overshadows the free spirited guardian.

A piece of the wooden barrier suddenly erupted, shooting forth its spike at him and barely missing his right cheek by a finger’s width.

“Hmm… Very well. Then I shall not stand on ceremony.”
Closing his eyes, he willed it, and power began rushing through every fiber of his being as the ground trembled beneath his feet.

 

***

 

Ulamara had always been extremely sensitive ever since she could remember. To their kind, mana was life itself, but to her sister, it was like poison. And the thicker the concentration, the stronger of an effect it had. Seeing her sister now and sensing it herself, she could no longer deny the being before them after witnessing its transformation.

With hair of silver glowing even more brilliantly than Anah’thela, the Phrae goddess of night herself and a gaze that could tear the world asunder, the entity before them could only be a Destroyer made flesh. From its body, power oozed forth like an untapped wellspring, rippling through the forest in waves of bright shadows and illuminating all it touched.

Even though they were already on the edge of the clearing, every breath that she could take suffocated her. Every strand of light she gleamed as they pass, blinded her. And every instinct within her body screamed at her, reaffirming that the stories from the preserved ones had not merely been tales, but warnings. Even now, without ever knowing or having felt it, the power that was completely overwhelming her could only be described as ancient… even primal.
Before her very eyes, was a being who commanded both life and death as easily as others breathed.

“I’m so sorry, Ula.” She sniffled, her words existing only in silence as she looked down upon her sister.
Face contorted in fear and pain, Ulamara had thankfully gone unconscious due to the excruciating burden upon her body even before the Destroyer took on his true form. And now she too, could feel the pain of her chest being ripped out. “I just wanted to prove to the others that I can be brave. I didn’t know this was going to happen.” She cried, feeling her strength being sucked out from her body.

In the distance, the Hirces of nature was now cowering before the Destroyer’s new appearance. As the Destroyer approached, the feline’s emerald green fur began radiating with a bright light and then without so much as a growl of resistance, the nature spirit’s presence completely vanished.

What did not stop however, was the crushing power that continued to exude from the Destroyer.

“Stop. Please.” She begged, witnessing the color upon her sister’s face draining as Ulamara’s essences continued to vanish.
“Please…” She pled as her own essences coiled and merged into the ever flowing will that continued to dominate all it touches.
“PLEASE! You’re killing my SISTER!!!” She screamed as the unbearable pain in her chest burst forth.

B3 Chapter 7 – Voices II

‘Have you already forgotten, Son of ***?’
A warm and serene voice, it whispered from within the dark recesses of his mind. Unknown and incorporeal yet terrifyingly familiar, “Remember why you who sought me out.’ The voice continued, caressing his whole body and forcing his senses into wakefulness.

Opening his eyes, his blurred vision slowly settled upon a vast expanse of nothingness.
Like a fog filled dream, the impenetrable darkness extended endlessly before him with no light or color existing within the impossible realm. As he focused his gaze, his uncertain eyes slowly and eventually fell upon a pale childish body materializing within the emptiness of the void.

He shuddered, realizing the body to be his own as a familiar fear began crawling upon his mind. Without thinking, “Wh-where am I!?” He cried out in panic, vaguely recalling such a desolate and suffocating realm.

Yet there was only silence as the question continued to resound within the depths of his mind.

‘Remember your Oath.’
The unknown voice entered his thoughts again and the darkness surrounding his floating body suddenly came alive. Emerging out of the void in globs of black viscous liquid, they poured themselves onto his motionless husk.
An overwhelming feeling of dread coursed through his senses as he watched what was happening and, “No…” He begged, willing the body before him to struggle, to fight back, to scream and claw itself out of the darkness that was consuming it. “Somebody! Help me!” He shouted again but before his eyes, his detached body remained frozen.

Terrified and confused, “HELP! Someone! Pleas- Hwak?!” His words silenced themselves and in the blink of an eye, he was no longer a simple observer but trapped within the body and staring up into an infinite abyss.

‘You are Beholden.’
The voice continued around him like a virulent haze, emerging from the abyss and entering him through skin and flesh.

“W-who are you?!” He shouted back in his mind and the dark realm warped, becoming an ocean of night beneath his feet while a blood red sky loomed overhead.
“What is this? Where am I?!” The terrified words surged out of his frozen mouth but just like before, no sound came out.

‘You WILL find me.’
Upon the voice’s declaration, his body was instantly pulled into the sea of darkness.

“MMM!!!” He screamed, holding his breath in tow as the endless abyss swallowed him whole.

‘I WILL be-…’

“No! NO!” He cried out in fear as strength returned to him and he willed his body to struggle, to fight for his freedom, “NO! N- ahK!” Something or someone had thrown him against a solid surface.
A sharp pain unexpectedly erupted along his sides, instantly forcing him awake as a foot drove itself into his stomach and expelled the winds out of his lungs.
Visions of the dream had already vanished and no longer was he sinking into a sea of blackened blood, but coughing and squirming on the grounds of a dimly lit hallway.

“You awake now milord?”
A man’s irate voice snickered dryly from above him.
Still gasping for air and confused, all he could do was hold his sides in an attempt to fight back the sharp piercing aches.
“Looked like you were having a nightmare again.”
The man added while he continued writhing on the ground.

“Did you really have to kick him twice?” Another voice. Guttural and heavy, the second man questioned unapologetically from beside the first as if sick and tired of what was going on.

“The little shit kicked me. If you think it’s unwarranted, why don’t you fucking carry him?”

Their voices rang pointlessly in his ears and he painfully edged his eyes upward, barely making out the silhouettes of two large men.

“Whatever. Let’s hurry this up.”
Returning a dismissive reply, the second man reached down and grabbed him, easily throwing him over their shoulder before proceeding to carry his aching body down a dimly lit hall.

With each step, surges of pain assaulted him as the truth of his dire situation slowly returned.

It was not long before they entered into a large dimly lit chamber with dozens of small square cells separated by thick metal bars.

“Look! AHHAHAHA!! The boy is still awake! You lot owe me half of your dinners!” A man’s excited voice exclaimed joyfully upon their entry.
“I did not agree to that bet!” Another retorted from across the room.
“Guards! When are my family coming to get me out?! Guards??”
“The brat just had to be conscious today of all days, huh? Just my luck.”
Two more voices added, following the echoes of the others.

Not paying any attention to the prisoners, the two guards carried him over to a small cell in a corner of the room and threw him inside, aggravating the pain in his body even more.

“Same time tomorrow, boy.” One of the guards stated before locking the cell door.

“Hugk! GU-…!” Clutching his aching chest, he instinctively clenched his teeth and kept his head down in order to not give them any further reasons to stick around and torment him.

“Food!! Guards, give us FOOD!”
“Boss! Please! I need something to alleviate my boredom!”
“That bastard Patrig attacked me first! I’m innocent here!”
“Shut up! Shut UP! SHUT UP!!”

The usual pleas and shouts continued loudly around him as the guards made a final check around the room and as usual, he too, continued to cower silently on the floor of his own cell while waiting for the guards to leave.

“Hgg… nnnhnn!”
Wrapping his swollen arms around his equally bruised legs, he painfully curled himself into a ball on the floor and lowered his head into his arms. *Sniff* The true nightmare of reality had returned to him and he painfully drew back his tears in an attempt to strengthen himself.

Though the memories of what transpired that day when he lost everything was still fresh on his mind, the world had neither stopped nor waited for him to grieve.

“*Sniff* Ugnnn-!” He quickly gritted his teeth, biting back the tears and pain that was shooting throughout his body.

He could neither recall nor did he know what took place after clutching onto his chest that horrible day, but thirty-four days have passed since he first awoke to being a traitorous prisoner.
Thirty-four days, since his old life of woeful ignorance died and this new life began.

‘Mother… Father…’
Lowering his head further into his knees, he drew his legs tighter around himself as his tears trickled out.

As the only survivor that day, he had been subjected to relentless days of interrogation for answers that he did not have. Answers, pertaining to the whereabouts of the mages who had vanished while massacring his household, along with everyone who had been inside the manor at the time.
That haze of memory had left him even before he woke, and no matter what, he could not explain how he came out alive.
Yet, being the sole survivor of the AnDargus house, he apparently still had his uses. The last of a fallen and traitorous house, made to stand witness as countless others who allegedly aligned themselves with his father are slaughtered and hanged, all in the name of their traitorous house and to take responsibility for it.

Even now with his eyes open, he could still see the hundreds of bodies swinging joyously together upon crooked gallows as if conversing and playing with one another. Once friends of the family and kind folks who had praised the generosity of his kin, their rotting corpses now beckon him closer as their hollowed eyes continue to observe and condemn his very existence.

‘Enough! PLEASE!’ He begged inwardly, wishing for the apparitions to disappear and leave him alone but as usual, they refused and continued swinging within the depths of his thoughts. “I’m sorry!” He cried out as more pain rushed through his throbbing body, forcing him to burst into tears once more. “It wasn’t me! It really wasn’t me…”

“Hey! Guards! The boy is at it again!” A deep croaky voice shouted angrily from the cell beside his.
“Let him be. Least the kid’s sorry about whatever landed him in here. Can’t say the same about you lot.” Another of the other prisoners replied.
“What’ve we got to be sorry for? I thought all of us in here are innocent?” Someone else quipped and a storm of laughter erupted through the cells.

“It wasn’t me… please…” Digging his fingers into his legs, he continued begging and whimpering as their hateful eyes continued to glare down at him.
‘Momma…’ He voiced within the depths of his mind, recalling her words that day. ‘I’m not strong. I’m scared and I can’t do this alone… please momma…’ Failing to hold back his tears, he continued to claw at his legs.

‘Be strong, sweet one.’
Her tender words softly reverberated in his head as if replying to his pleas.

“I can’t.” He sobbed back as his dirty and broken nails pierced skin, sending even more discomfort through his legs. “It hurts. Please… someone hel-”
Before he could finish his words, a sharp pain cleaved itself into the side of his head and the room suddenly shook.

“What was that?!”
“What just happened?!”
Voices filled with surprise overtook the room’s chattering but were quickly quelled.

Having exasperated the suffering within him further, “Ughk!” His tears swelled outward as he weakly pressed both of his hands onto the ground in an effort to brace himself. Already sobbing at his own pitiful state, a stinging pain shot through his arms and chest as he failed to push himself up.
 
It was just like that day.
Powerless, he had been unable to even pull himself toward his mother or father. Especially terrified of what was happening at the time, he had only been able to watch as they both perished before his very eyes.

‘Please! Please spare us!’
The cries of a stable hand who had escaped the slaughter that day, only to be rounded up and hanged with his whole family.
‘No! Why are you doing this?! Somebody help me!! Someone!!’
The wails of a young woman as she was dragged away into a farmhouse for the amusement of the soldiers occupying AnDarg.
‘Young master! Please do something! I beg you!’
The futile pleas of an elder who could do naught but watch as the emperor’s men slaughtered his village.

His father was right.
“Why?”
He questioned in resignation as the obvious truth from all those days ago continued to linger in his mind.

Had he the strength to oppose those who would slaughter his people, would things have changed?
Had he been strong enough to fight with his mother and father instead of sniveling on the ground like a useless child, would they still be alive?
The questions pierced through him like hot blades as regret and shame at having squandered his father’s efforts filled his mind.

“Kuh!” He tried pushing himself up again, only to fall flat back onto the floor as wounds old and new flared up in waves of agony. Unable to even raise himself up from his own misery, “W-why? Why am I so weak!?!” The words painstakingly clawed themselves out of his mouth as if to admonished himself for his incompetence.

‘…Power…’
A voice, one completely unlike his own thoughts answered him. Unknown and unnerving, it quieted and drowned out all the noises around him.

“!?” Taken aback, a cold chill suddenly swept through his body as an indescribable fear descended upon the sunlit room. The atmosphere had completely changed. There was no more bickering from those around him and within his own cell, he could sense the presence of another. Of something else entirely.
Without moving a muscle, he slowly stilled his aching body. “W-who are you?”

‘…Power… Strength…’ The unknown voice answered, its words repeating itself in his head like droplets of water as an unnatural darkness began enveloping everything around his proximity, leaving nothing but himself and his own thoughts.

‘…Power… Strength…’
And as if to prove itself, strength began flowing into his body.
The pain and agony he had been enduring thus far was subsiding with each breath and with surprised caution, he was able to slowly push himself up.
It was like a dream.
Looking around, all the other prisoners had vanished and he was the only one left within the darkening cell chamber. His body too, was growing healthier and stronger and it felt like he could anything.
“Who are you?! What do you want?!” He cried out apprehensively at the unknown presence and for an instant, the world froze as everything became dead silent.

‘… I Am… You…’
The shadows that had covered the room slowly began peeling themselves off the walls, corners, and crevices of the chamber. Swelling together into a thick pool of blood-red liquid, they swept along the ground, melding through the iron bars to rise up before him.
Observing it closely, the pool of liquid slowly shifted and transformed into a featureless silhouette of himself.
‘I Am… Power… Let Me… In…’ It commanded, stretching its dark fluid-like arm out toward him but never touching him. Almost as if it couldn’t. As if something was preventing it from doing it.

His pain and fears completely forgotten, he slowly edged his right hand forward to touch it.
‘Power.’ ‘Strength.’
The words spun in his mind and he lusted for them.
Though he could not tell what the entity was, the thing that he wanted was right there before him and all he had to do, was reach out and take it.

*ZHHHHNNNNNN*

A buzzing exploded around him before he could do so and just like before, his cell shook, destabilizing him and causing him to stumble against the wall.

*ZHNNNN* ‘Master.’

Another buzzing, followed by another voice speaking from within the depths of his mind. Fleeting and glowing within his mind’s eyes, the voice felt like rays of light raining warmly around him, prompting him to instinctively shrink away from the dark entity standing before him.

‘Begone, Caelfarion Whore of Elthe’ Myulnis…’
The new voice spoke again, pulsing furiously within his head as the very space between him and the dark entity began fracturing into cracks of light.

‘So you have come… **** ****.’
Completely different from before, the dark entity’s voice responded with what could only be annoyance. ‘Here to save your Master yet again?’ It questioned as it fell apart and hastily retreated back into to the darkness of the cell chamber.

‘You Will Not Touch Him…’
The protective voice pulsed, sending streaks of light out from within the small rifts into the cell.
‘Not Again…’
Followed by a larger burst of light, brightly illuminating the area around him.

And, “Uhk!? uuhAAAAA!” He screamed as the light echoed throughout his body, burning it from the inside out.

‘Hahahaha! Was that all?!’
The earnest and sincere voice that was offering him power moments ago was no more. In its place, an echo of vicious contempt.

Recoiling upon himself while enduring the burning from within, he begged for the pain to end, but it would not.

‘Master…’
The fracture pulsed, its voice within his mind again as if addressing him directly.
‘You Must Wake.’
It vibrated, shaking the small cell and sending more streaks of light everywhere as the burning within his body intensified.

‘Such futility. He is already MINE. As was before, and will BE.’

The burning within himself immediately vanished upon those words.
Turning in confusion to the direction of the dire proclamation, the room suddenly crumbled around him, revealing an endless void of darkness.
His body immediately froze and his eyes stood agape at what he was witnessing.
‘This place…’ It was just like his nightmare earlier. Like the forgotten nightmare upon that day of loss and slaughter.
The dark and viscous liquid that he thought had dispersed, were already coiled around him and pouring along his body like a second skin.

‘Come…’ The darkness beckoned sweetly and for an instant, he felt a compulsion to comply with its words.
An exhausted desire to just let himself go. To forsake everything and join his parents and brother in the eternal dream.

‘SILENCE, Unclean One!’
Piercing through his mind like a knife, the rifts before him pulsed angrily, rebuking the darkness. “We Have Not Waited All This Time. Countless Millenia, Only For You To Rob Us Of Our Master Yet Again!”

From the pulsating splinter, another torrent of light exploded outward and scorched his body, eradicating the encroaching darkness around him.
And for the span of a single breath, a sense of warmth and familiarity filled his body.
Within its warmth, there was an immeasurable sense of patience and loyalty along with such a fierce desire to be whole, that his body trembled as it swept by.
Though like a warm breeze that is calm and comfortable, it hid an anger hotter than that of any flames he had ever felt before.

‘Such delicate attempts… was that your best?’
The darkness taunted, its viscuous tendrils swiftly swirling around him again, enveloping his body once more as the light dimmed.
‘I too, have been waiting.’
From the darkness, thousands of other tendrils shot forth at the glowing fractures, suffusing through them and obstructing their light.

‘Master…’

The fractures pulsed weakly once more before slowly closing up as the darkness completely blocked them out. Before long, there was nothing but darkness once again.

‘It is time, Son of ***.’
The seductive voice whispered from within their depths.

Feeling the warmth in his body dissipating and witnessing the final glow of the rifts dimming in his mind, he powerlessly relinquished his senses and closed his eyes, allowing a different tranquility to overtake his body.

‘Yes…’ Words filled with triumphant glee surged into and throughout his mind. ‘Remember who you are. Remember why you sought me.’
An intense rush of mana stormed into his mind, strengthening his body while at the same time, eroding away his senses.

‘HAHAHAHAHA!! More! Give me MORE!!’
Distant echoes of his own degenerative laughter from a lifetime ago.
‘What have I…’
A vision of sin, witnessed and recorded by thousands of hollow and empty eyes.

‘Submit to me… for there is only US.’ Prodding at his mind, the darkness continued to overwhelm him. ‘We, are destined. We… are ONE.’ It spoke passionately while lodging itself into the vulnerable cracks of his memories and mind.

‘I am… sorry…’
The final words of a man who had lost everything in his pursuit of power and vengeance. Filled with nothing but hate and regret, they reverberated through him like the very blood in his veins.

“… is that so?”
Lips parting, his words thundered throughout the hopeless realm, instantly silencing the nonsense that was trying to lull him into oblivion.

‘No…’ Unlike the ecstatic laughter that was filled with elated hunger only moments ago, the voice shifted into one rife with surprise.

“I had believed the nightmare from all those years ago to be just that… a nightmare.” By his will, his frozen arm rose up and grasped at the layer of darkness that had wrapped itself around his face. “A simple memory of my imprisonment, a price for my selfish and shameless self to be walking about again after everything I’ve done… But it looks like I was wrong.”

‘We are already one! How?!’ The voice screamed indignantly upon his words.

Like removing a loose mask, he calmly tore the layer of dark liquid off and cast it into the empty void. “To think there was still a shard of you hiding within me all these years… all this time…”

‘No! You are MINE!’
The voice lashed back in anger.

“I am yours no more.” By his will, hundreds of tiny fractures just like the ones earlier ruptured throughout the empty void. From them, power surged back into his body as the dreamlike realm shook in opposition to his determination. “Depriving me of my memories and feeding me illusions again… how dare you.”

‘No! Your oath!’ The void screamed, its disembodied voice grating and hoarse. ‘You are-’

“I AM BEHOLDEN TO NO ONE!” He snarled and the endless night burst into light, burning away the layer of darkness that was still covering his body.
“But you… you need not worry, for I still remember EVERYTHING.”
Stepping upon the sea of nothingness, by his will, the unending abyss began falling apart around him.
“As per the sacred oaths dictated by fate, I will certainly honor our pact. And when I do, I will END you once and for all.” More cracks rippled throughout the unending realm, shredding apart the crumbling darkness and covering him in a sphere of light. “Mark my words, Lovik, for that is my new oath to you.”

Closing his eyes upon the trembling and crumbling dream, he willed himself to wake.

B3 Chapter 6 – Unwavering

-11th Ward Mystiks Guild-

Sneaking a quick glance to his left, Troyle spied his lord and friend Alzin Shuziel Varath quietly looking forward ahead.
The man’s dignified stance and calmness which had visibly declined during their interrogation had already returned and equally terrifying alongside it, a newfound focus.
Seeing his lord’s unwavering demeanor, Troyle quietly smother his own nerves and rigidly straightened himself, unsure of what to expect as the Crucible’s thick double doors began creaking before them.

As the thick metal slabs effortlessly swung open, a gust quickly swept into the room.
Forcing a shiver out of him, Troyle hastily crossed his arms as the bone piercing chill made its way into the gaps of his clothes, licking him lightly before being subdued by the final verses of an incantation.

“There is a carriage awaiting us out front. My colleague and I shall escort you both until we have reached your destination.” A man wearing the white and red of the Mystiks guild spoke, walking forth to stand in the opened doorway. Tall with a defined and robust build even with his red and white guild cloak on, the man was one of two who had withdrawn them from the black cells earlier. “Please, follow me.” With the brief instructions, the man nodded to the other mage behind them and stepped out.

Though still quite early, unlike their dark cell or the dimly lit antechamber in which they were now standing, the light of dawn was already glowing softly outside.

Looking to his left again, Troyle caught his lord taking a deep breath.
Neither a tired yawn nor an exhausted sigh, it was heavy and solemn. Filled with unyielding purpose and determination, it could only be the decisive breath before an irrevocable decision.
With another resolute breath and a swift readjustment to his impeccable posture, Lord Varath followed the mage outside.

Having already made up his own mind alongside the lord, Troyle quickly trailed behind them.

As they silently made their way across the paved pathway, the stillness of early morning was all that accompanied them. Even as they entered the spacious guild hall in which they had passed through a few days ago, the tumultuous warzone that was happening around them then, was nowhere to be found. Instead, the great hall now was more akin to a silent and somber graveyard filled with an eerie calm.

Just as he had seen before, the chamber’s various shifting rooms were still there. The pure whiteness of the marble that seem to glow as they meld into or emerge from the walls continued to do so. Even the men and women who were moving about the four-story grand chamber as if cogs within a larger system, cycled through their actions. There would have been nothing to be wary of, were it not for the lack of suffering that was grossly missing.

“The sick rooms are enveloped with spells of silence.” Someone answered from behind him as if noticing his uneasiness.

Surprised, Troyle turned back to see their other escort watching him curiously. A younger woman, she was perhaps in her mid-twenties.

“It helps to keep those who are in too much pain from waking others up at night, while allowing us to work without distraction.” The mage continued to explain, having easily read the look of curiosity on his face.

“I see…” Taking another look as they approached the center of the guild hall, it was just as she said.
Many of the segmented rooms around them were still occupied by lords and ladies who had suffered a multitude of injuries. While some of them slept peacefully, others were already up and being attended to by members of the guild. Yet, he could hear none of what was happening. No screams filled the hall, no cries from loved ones, and no grunts of pain nor groans of distress from the patients. All that existed around them as they made their way through the great hall, was an eerie peacefulness within the midst of visible agony.

Spotting a delirious man twisting and turning in one of the rooms as they passed, Troyle subconsciously raised his right hand up to his left shoulder, feeling for the nonexistent scar of an injury that was no longer there.
“Kaidus…” He voiced quietly as his thoughts slowly deviated from the few hundreds within the guild’s care to the probable thousands of civilians that were scattered across the various wards. While the guards had sent words that both their families were fine, the same could not be said about many others.
“Where are you?” He wondered, knowing just how invaluable the boy’s unnatural healing abilities were in such times.

“Pardon me my lords, but we’ve got company.”

The mage who had been walking in front of them spoke up and the man’s voice instantly withdrew him from his own sullen thoughts. Shooting a glance ahead, Troyle spotted a familiar man standing outside between the building’s entrance and their carriage.
Both his arms instinctively reached for his swords but quickly halted as he remembered his situation. Weaponless, he cautiously moved in closer behind Lord Varath to keep guard.

With a right arm completely wrapped in bandages along with parts of his left arm and upper torso, Lord Huin Xoras Ravon, the new head of the Ravon house stood patiently as if he had been waiting for them. Supported by his son, there was an amiable, almost spirited smile on the lord’s face.
The man’s son Vion, on the other hand, was armed with what appeared to be a slim one-handed sword.
Mindfully urging his son to release him as they approached, “Heard you two were finally coming out. How was your stay?” The lord straightened himself and greeted them cordially as if nothing had occurred between them.

“Four days in a dark cell? Refreshing. Afforded me plenty of time to think.” Lord Varath sliced back as they approached each other. “How about you, my lord?”

Huin’s smile immediately dissolved. “Alzin… I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Not slowing or halting his pace to exchange pleasantries, Alzin Varath continued walking.

“Alzin wait!” The injured lord hastily grabbed onto Lord Varath’s arm with his own bandaged fist and bit down a pained howl. “There was no other way. The guild would never have believed you without empirical evidence. *COUGH!* You both would have been left to rot in those cells until- *COUGH!* *COUGH!*”

“Father!”
Vion hastily rushed forward, quickly supporting his father as Huin toppled due to the bought of coughing.

Not looking away from the carriage in front of them, “… I saw the look in your eyes, Huin. Not even you believed that I was innocent.”

*Cough!* “Alzin, please…”

Ignoring the plea and without further acknowledgement, Lord Varath proceeded forth toward the carriage.

Following closely behind, “My lord?” Troyle reluctantly stopped as Lord Huin Ravon also painfully took hold of his arm.

“V-Vion.” With a single word from the lord, the man’s son stepped forward and presented something.

He had not paid any attention to the younger man beyond his initial glance, but seeing the weapon, Troyle perked up.

“I believe this belongs to you.” Lord Ravon spoke quickly before muffling another cough.

The weapon was the very sword that he had surrendered to the mages days ago.
From the droplets of moisture upon its fine blade, it was a fair guess that they had been waiting out there in the cold for quite some time.
Reaching out, Troyle took hold of the weapon as it glistened sharply in the morning light.

“About what happened… I had to know. Forgive me.”

An apology filled with shame and regret entered his ears, prompting Troyle to look at the lord.
Possibly a result of his injuries, the man before him appeared haggard. The powerful presence that day in the crucible was nowhere to be felt, the domineering posture then now looked meek, and even his unruly demeanor was docile… almost pitiful.
And yet, he could not forget the man’s overflowing intent that day.
Whether it was blind anger or because of cold logical calculations after hearing what was said in that room, the man’s actions were still not something that could be brushed aside so lightly.
Mindfully recalling the attack that was veering for his friend’s stomach and his own actions that evening, “Apologies, but that is not for me to decide.” He replied, giving a curt nod of appreciation for his sword before quickly excusing himself, completely ignoring the younger man’s subtle change in expression.

 

***

 

-11th ward. Zorin Academy-

Master Keral stood up from his seat and stretched his arms and fingers, yawning tiredly as they cracked and popped. Lethargically mouthing a few words, the two lightstones that had dulled behind him immediately burst into life once more.

Allowing a deep and exhausted sigh to escape him, he sat back down, completely oblivious of the morning light that had already made its way across the room.

On the desk in front of him was a short stack of texts and booklets that he had managed to look through in the past few busy days. Documents that the deceased headmaster was in the process of combing through for reasons unbeknownst to him, or any of the other masters.

With another deep and defeated sigh, Master Keral slumped into his chair as his eyes slowly wandered about, trying to make sense of the thousands of books that had fallen haphazardly around the room.

Much like Ferrent, the headmaster’s office itself was in complete disarray. The shock of the battle had thrown the carefully organized stacks of books all over the room, and now he could no longer tell which pile contained the books that the old man had deemed necessary for his research.

With a few words of command and a tired wave of his hand, three books rose from the mess and hovered over to him.

Exhausted but unwilling to yield, “Just what were you looking for?” Keral questioned as he continued to try and wrap his head around the deceased headmaster’s secretive conducts.

Yet just like those before them and without any clues as to what he was seeking, before long he found himself lost and wandering again in his own mind.
“Grandmaster…” Keral painfully spoke aloud, remembering how just a few days ago, the old man had been in his very position, quietly perusing through whatever was in front of him with purpose.
Looking back at it now, he regretted not pushing the old man about the research.

‘Why are you bothering me so early? Don’t you have a class to tend to?’
Words that he had heard dozens of times before in this very room swirled silently around him and Keral closed his eyes.
‘Needlessly worrying about me will do nothing for the both of us.’
An ancient and weathered face immortalized in exquisite black marble manifested before him. Wrinkled and callous with a playful scowl, as usual, he was no closer to discerning the old man’s expressions or thoughts.

‘No Keral wordlessly thought to himself, remembering his mentor’s face as it was encased in marble. Headmaster Nylen had been smiling.

Even before his committal to the stasis of the eternal, the old man had appeared as if he was at peace.
Upon that evening when they found him, far beyond sorrow and anguish, the headmaster’s frozen expression had been that of a smile. As if he had been grinning in his final moments upon that throne of stone high above the storehouses, quietly overlooking the city one last time… almost like he knew what would happen all along.

“Master?”

A voice called out to him before he even had a chance to notice that the door to the office had been opened. Looking up, Sven, one of the scribes was standing at its doorway.
“Yes?” Keral tiredly replied.

“I was instructed to inform you that Master Drilm has called for an emergency meeting with all available masters.”

There were already seven others within the meeting room by the time he arrived.

Master Drilm Tildton, the person who had called the meeting in the first place stood up and ushered everyone to the table where he had been sitting.

Master Zaele who was standing by the window wordlessly obliged, immediately walking over toward everyone.
Master Hamin along with Master Juvol who had been whispering to one another ceased their isolated discussion and also quickly joined the group.
Already seated and waiting patiently were: Master Gorzon the head of Arkane Studies, Master Borus the head physician, and Master Zara, one of the few supplementation masters.

Keral moved to take a seat and before even sitting down, the room glowed briefly as Master Drilm, Master Zara, and Master Juvol all finished their incantations, completely sealing the room with three different layers of protective magic.

Verifying that they were all present and waiting on him, “I apologize for the inconvenience of pulling you all away from your tasks in such trying times, but this matter cannot wait.” Master Drilm spoke, voice filled with trepidation and secrecy as he pulled out a rectangular parcel from within his master’s robe. “These were hand delivered earlier by the Ice Sage of Dumierre, Lord Darvont Elutus Kalzorr himself. They are also to be burnt after those who can be trusted have seen its contents.” Carefully undoing the parcel onto the table, Master Drilm wordlessly fanned its contents out to reveal over two dozen pages of written documents. “Please, take a look at them.” He shakenly added as he began an incantation.
Except for Master Drilm himself, the various papers began sliding across the table, spreading themselves amongst the others within the room.

Keral held down his curiosity and quietly eyed the written reports before him. Yet, as the words upon the pages surged into life within the confines of his own mind, he could feel his body beginning to tremble.

Of the five documents before him, three of them were filled with statements from those who had been there in the Valaei mountains of southeastern Darsus. Eye witness testaments about an unknown entity that had descend upon the mountain while Ferrent’s expeditionary forces were in the midst of battle.

“Pure white like sunglow, it had taken the form of a man.”  One of the witnesses had specified.
“…it did not fear the mages. Instead, it had massacred all who stood in its path without slowing a single step.” Another statement from a man who had seen what happened to those that attacked the entity.
“Like staring directly at the sun for a prolonged period of time and then closing your eyes.” The apparent and closest explanation for what those who were there at the time had seen.
“It was mana incarnate… so dense and unfathomable that I dared not force myself to move.” A mage belonging to the mercenaries had confessed. It was a sentiment that many of the mages who had been there also shared.

While most reports were the words of those hired for the expedition, all had been verified by four guild mages and a handful of knights who were also there at the time. The incident itself seemed to be largely the reason why the problems there had been resolved so quickly.

Another of the papers was an official report from a guild mage whose team had been tasked with reconnaissance on a particularly group of brigands.
Within, instead of the usual observational report, what was written was a statement full of delirium and fantastical assertions.
A story about a black serpent as large as a hvaral, thrashing through the earth and swallowing whole, the formidable fortress of those they had been watching.
How just like the reports from the Valaei mountains, the presence of such a beast had forced them all to cower and fled for their lives without a second thought about what was happening to those caught within the beast’s grasps.

The fifth and final paper, consisted of a couple statements from those who had been involved in the rushed trial of one Lord Alzin Varath and the head of his guards, Troyle Paltos merely days ago.

Carefully placing the five pages down onto the table before him, Keral voicelessly looked around to see that everyone was just as visibly shaken as he was. He looked at the portly Drilm, and the man gave him a questioning look as if asking to see if he was done.
Keral nodded back.

Without addressing what they all had just read, Master Drilm waved his right hand and the seven stacks of papers shifted around the table.

Quickly recognizing that his first five pages were merely the beginning, Keral quietly began perusing the new pages before him.

As they continued to read in silence with the periodic exchange of papers,
“This can’t be right…”

Keral looked up from his own focus to see that Master Juvol had stood up from her seat. At a glance, he could see that her eyes were filled with curious disbelief while her mouth quivered with apprehension as she hastily moved away from her seat.
“Master Juvol?” He questioned, noticing that the others had also stalled their intrigue.

“I must confirm something.” She hastily replied.

“What do you mean?” Master Drilm questioned from his seat as they all gave her a curious look. “Juvol?”

Halting her steps before the door, Master Juvol turned back to them.
“That report from Drend Myrfire. I have seen one of those names before in the tomes within the Locked Library. If it is what I think it is, then we must be certain.” She answered, voice careful and silent like a whisper as if she had just seen a ghost.

 

B3 Chapter 5 – Innocence

“I couldn’t find you in the courtyard! What are you doing here?!”

“M-mother?” He questioned in astonishment as she grabbed his shoulders, wondering if she had known what he was thinking.

“We have to leave right now.” With those words and without waiting for him, she hastily took his arm and pulled him toward the door. “We have to get to your father.”

He had never seen her like that before, so shaken and afraid. Yet, there was no indication that she had known what he was contemplating. “W-what’s wrong, mother?”

“Hush and come with me!” She snapped sharply, forcefully pulling him along with her as she rushed out the door.

With his room being on the third floor he could not tell what was happening but as they descended toward the first, he quickly took notice that the house mages and servants were also rushing about. Shouting over one another, they all look panicked with most of them wearing an expression much like his mother’s.

“There is a secret passage in your father’s audience chamber. We have to get you out before-”

“Mother, what is happening?!” He screeched and her fingers dug even deeper into his arm as she dragged him along. “Mother! You’re hurting me!”

“Quiet Rhultal!” She hushed.

“My lady, hurry! They are already here!” One of the house mages yelled over to them as they reached the first floor.

“Oliah?!?” He managed to cry out the woman’s name before she disappeared around a corner.

“Come now!” His mother pulled even harder, moving them both in the opposite direction of where the mages and servants were heading.

Taking another look at those rushing past them, he finally took notice of the mages and their battle attires. Some were already wearing their enchanted gears while others were still hastily passing out weapons and armors. Thinking back, Oliah too, had been clad in the silver mail that was bestowed upon her as a mage of their house.

“W-what did Oliah mean?” He questioned as his own sense of fear and dread began taking hold of his body amidst the sound of screaming and clashing in the distance.
His mother did not answer but simply continued pulling him along.
“Please mother!” He screamed again, pulling back in resistance.

“There is no time, Rhultal!”
She lashed back and he could feel her arms strengthening with magic. With a simple tug, she almost lifted him off the ground.

Unable to fight back, he could do naught but follow along.
Moving through the courtyard which was the fastest path to his father’s audience chamber, he caught a glance of a familiar man lying against the western wall of the courtyard next to a tattered and bloodied horse.

Dull golden hair covered the left side of the man’s bearded face, while leaving one of his gray eyes to stare blankly into the distance. There was a stream of blood from the man’s mouth dyeng his golden beard and flowing down to stain his fine auburn cloak along with his gilded collared shirt underneath. The man’s left hand was resting peacefully on his stomach where a large dark stain was covering much of his fine clothes and cloak.

Though bleeding, the injured horse stood tiredly but silently beside its master as if to await the man’s next ride.

“M-mother! Mother that was-”
It was one of the four men whom he had seen earlier that day with his father. The four of them had all left together but why the man was back and in such a state, he could not understand.

“Don’t look.” She pulled him even harder and he could almost feel his arm dislodging.

As they neared the small audience hall, two of their family mages who were guarding it nodded at them and hastily opened the doors.

“Rholan! Are you here?!”

“Come inside!” His father’s voice promptly called out from within and the two guards hurriedly ushered them inside before sealing the doors again behind them.

“F-father? What is happening?” Confused, he called out to the man before them for answers.

“I am a fool…” The man whispered as if speaking to himself.
Moving from one side of the chamber to the back, his father pressed a large glyph on the back wall. From around the room, six other smaller glyphs that were already glowing suddenly burst into flames before surging toward the glyph. Converging into a large fireball, with a word from his father, the flames fell apart to reveal a small cylindrical rod about the size of a finger in its place.

“Lord Ulqurin was right and because of my stubbornness, I have doomed us all.” His lord father spoke, plucking the rod out of the air.

‘Lord Ulqurin?’ His thoughts instantly went back to the bloodied and lifeless lord that was laying against the wall of their courtyard.

“How did they even know?!” His mother questioned anxiously, not letting go of his hand but pulling him along.

“I don’t know, Meryl. But this timing… they must have been onto us for a while.” 

“How can that be!? Is there a traitor amongst us?”

“That- I refuse to believe someone would betray us… especially when we are so close.” His father replied and quickly reeled in his seething anger before approaching the large table made out of blackstone at the center of the room.
With a swift incantation, the top of the stone table split straight down the center and both sides slid away from each other, opening a path to the center support of the table where a small hole was now visible.
With the rod in hand, his father hurried forward and dropped it into the cylindrical opening.

There was a flash of light from inside the hole, then it began shining as waves of warm light flowed outward into the chamber. Swirling around them all like mist, with another word from his lord father, the lights swiftly surged together above the table and coalesced into a small transparent orb.

“The catalyst could only contain enough mana to transport two people.” His father explained, not looking away from the translucent object that was hovering above the table. “Take it.”

“Rholan-”

“Go, Meryl. Take the boy and go before it is too late.”

His mother hesitated for a moment before stepping forward for the crystal.

*BOOM!*
The door to the audience chamber was suddenly blasted open, sending shards of metal, stone, and dust into the room.

“What are you waiting for?! GO!” His father’s voice resounded loudly through the smoke and confusion that had swept over them.

Taken aback, he held onto her as his mother rushed for the crystal that was hovering before them.

*Passhaaaaaaaaa!*
Something else tore through the room and smashed into the crystal before his mother could take hold of it, shattering it into pieces .

Tearfully blocking his face while she quickly attempted to shield him, “M-mother!” He cried out from within her clutches as a number of footsteps rushed into the room.

Heavy and methodical as if on purpose for dramatic effects, another final set of footsteps sauntered coolly into the chamber after the others.
“Before what is too late, my lord?” A stern but effiminate voice questioned them and the dust billowing around was instantly swept away, revealing five people in fine plate armor standing before the rubbles of the shattered entrance. 

At the center and wearing a suit of red plate armor very different from the other four, was a knight carrying the emblem of a broken sword upon their chest plate. Two sharp horns also protruded forward proudly through the knight’s basinet. Like elongated canines and judging from her small yet menacing stature, the person was undoubtedly of the famed Zerakin warrior clan.
Upon a second look, the knight’s armor was not red, but instead covered from head to toe in blood, just like the bloodied short sword in her right hand.

“Urzeil…” His father grumbled cautiously.

With a dignified yet feminine step forward, “Surround them.” The red knight ordered, her soft yet emotionless voice suffusing through the room like a cold rain shower.

Following the zerakin’s command, the four other armored mages rushed to quickly encircle them.

“To send his slaughter hounds, his Majesty must truly want me dead.” Perhaps voicing his nerves, his father immediately took a defensive stance.

Ignoring the remark, the bloodred knight raised her short sword and pointed it forward at them, “Rholan Vox Ethilia AnDargus, Sovereign and Keeper of AnDarg, High Lord of the silver plains. For the crime of conspiring and inciting unholy rebellions in these times of peace, you are hereby stripped of all claims and titles bestowed upon you by his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Avalian Xem Eltera Gulsia, beloved Hero of the people and God King of Honos. By imperial decree, you and yours are hereby sentenced to die.”
The zerakin twisted the sword sideways in her hand, “Have you any last words?”

Not moving a step, his father slowly relaxed himself and brusquely brushed off the dusts on his chest before poising magnificently once more.
“The House of AnDargus will never again kneel before those who can do naught, but take from others. Be them commoners, nobles, kings, or emperors… be them even a god king.”
With a pause, for some unknown reason, his father turned and glanced back at him before returning his attention to the Zerakin.
“I have spent my whole life averting my gaze from the suffering of the people outside my domain. I have allowed them as sacrifices in the hopes of protecting my own… and for my inactions, I have paid dearly.”

“Father…” He dared not look away.

“And while it is now too late for such regrets, I, the Silver Stallion of AnDarg will falter no longer.” His father continued, the words resonating loudly throughout the room. “If today is my day or reckoning and only death awaits me,” extending his right hand outward, a cold draft began surging into the room as a spear of swirling crystal dust slowly began forming in his father’s hand. “Then I will die with pride, knowing that I have finally stood up to fight for what is just and what is right.” The room shook and a thick veil of bluish light could be seen wrapping itself around his father’s body. A coat of visible mana.

“… I will be sure to deliver your last words to his Imperial Majesty. For now, you can perish knowing that we will spare no effort in purging all those who have sided with you from this holy land.” The zerakin calmly spoke from underneath her helmet. Raising her sword above her head, the weapon began to glow with a bluish light. “Commence the execution.”
With a command, the zerakin slashed downward with her upraised sword.

He watched as his lord father’s spear sliced through the air, twisting in unnatural angles while jerking from person to person as the four mages took turns rushing at his father.
He held his tongue as the battle became a blur to his eyes and he listened, as the magically infused room began trembling due to the explosive powers erupting with each attack.

“Rhultal, look at me.” A gentle voice whispered into his ears.

Still clutching tightly onto her, he looked up and his mother was smiling down at him. Her usual pained smile, it was one that he had seen countless times before. One that had never served as anything other than confirmation for a lack of options.

“I am so sorry.” She softly apologized, the forced smile still plastered on her face.

“Momma…?” He whimpered as his body shook in fear from what was happening around them.

“Forgive us, sweet one.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You are faultless, yet you have been pulled into this mess because of our selfishness. At least you alone, must survive.”

“M-momma? What are you saying? Momma?!” He questioned and clung onto her dress as she gracefully stood up. “Momma? Please! Please don’t go!”

“Be strong, sweet Rhul.” She pressed her hands over his own, gently undoing his grasp. “Steel your heart now and wait for your father. When he tells you to run, you run. Alright?”

“I- I can’t…” He painfully replied, hearing the resignation in her voice.

“You can. You are stronger than you think and you will definitely be fine… even if you are alone.” With another smile, she averted her eyes and pulled away.

“NO! Don’t leave me!” He pleaded, feeling his heart sinking as her hands discarded his own.

“Rholan!” His mother’s voice overwhelmed the constant clashing around them and from her body, intense green flames burst forth through the room. 
Burning through her clothes, the flames whipped about furiously, keeping their assailants at bay while cradling him in a protective vortex.

Quickly retreating from the four mages, his father rushed back to their side.

“You promised, Rholan.” A desperate and regretful voice reminded from the flames, “Even if it’s just him, save our- Ugh!” Her face twisting in agony, his mother hastily turned away from his sight.

Seeing her skin cracking and drying up as more flames erupted from the cracks, “No! Momma stop!!!” He screamed powerlessly, held back by his own fear and the flames swirling around him.

“Kuh!” His father stood against the blazes that were erupting around them and clenched his free hand tightly, “Forgive me!”

“NOO!! DON’T!!” He wailed as his father’s reluctant and sorrow filled apology entered his ears.

Shooting the freehand outward, his father pierced his mother’s chest, causing even more flames to burst forth around them. This time, instead of rampaging throughout the room, the flames began swirling into and around his father’s body. Without another word, his father spun around and swung outward with his spear, sending waves of green flames in all directions.

He saw as the four mages all hastily erected thick barriers of their own, barely blocking the barrage of flames in time as it pushed them back toward the walls. On the other hand, the zerakin stepped forward and with a single downward swing of her blade, cleaved the waves of magic that were soaring toward her apart.

“Rholan!”
His mother cried out as a large fissure crackled throughout her scorched body, emerging from where she had been pierced and running down the side of her torso to her knees.

“Ughaaaahhhh!!!”
Screaming in grief, a burst of pure white flames erupted from his mother to coiled around his father, surging into the spear.

“Momma!!” He hollered again as he watched her body go limp and the flames that had been gushing from her sizzle away.

“To go so far as sacrificing yourself for your child… such actions are to be commended.” The zerakin voiced calmly and almost respectfully. Releasing her sword onto the ground, the horned woman reached behind herself and pulled out two shimmering daggers that seem to vibrate and distort the very space around them.

As if having been instructed prior, the other four mages all quickly retreated to the four corners of the audience chamber.

“I apologize for what is being done to you and your family, but his Majesty’s words are absolute.” The zerakin raised her two daggers over her head, crossing them together as they began shining.

With his own weapon in hand, “Aaaahhhhh!!” His father screamed and lunged forth at the horned woman.

Nimbly parrying the spear thrust, the zerakin spun and slashed at his father’s side with one of the daggers. The thick and observable film of mana and flames that were supposed to be protecting his father instantly parted, leaving a streak of red across his father’s torso as the zerakin’s dagger passed.
Not halting his movements, his father dug the spear tip into the ground to catch himself and whipped the weapon backward, hurling it like a bolt of lightning at the horned woman’s head.
The air rumbled between them as the zerakin deftly parried the attack before quickly jumping backwards as an onslaught of translucent spikes shot out at her from the ground.

Forcing his gaze from the battle to his mother, “M-momma…” He cried out for her, his body quivering against his will as the sound of thunderous scraping and clashing rippled tensely through the air around him.

“Momma please…” he begged aloud, but her charred and fractured body remained motionless. Shaking powerlessly, all he could do was stare at her husk as an explosion from behind him shook the room.

“Grk- UuuaaaRRRRHHHHH!!!”
Followed by a scream of pain and the splattering of blood onto the floor.

Taken aback, he turned his head only to spot his father standing rigidly beside the horned woman. Behind them both was a large hole in the side of the mana infused wall.
“F-father?”
There was no longer a layer of mana swirling around his father nor was there any flames now. From the way they were standing, it appeared as if the zerakin was holding his father’s body upright via the hilt of the single dagger embedded into his father’s back. Though two heads shorter, she was effortlessly supporting his father’s weight.
 
*COUGH!*
More blood sprayed down onto the battleworn and disheveled ground.
“GAk- AAAAAHhhHH!!”
The armored woman twisted the dagger, drawing even more pained screams.
With swift and skillful maneuvering, she dragged the weapon across flesh and bone before pivoting around to his father’s front, allowing an explosive trail of blood to gush out from his father’s back.
Moving like lightning, her arms shot out and she plunged both daggers into his father’s chest before swiftly yanking one out again.
Without a single word, she stepped back.
As his father fell to the ground, with a final and practiced motion, the woman’s arm flickered naturally across his father’s neck with the knife.

*Thump*

“Noo…” He stared as his father’s prideful body slumped to the ground, falling onto its side to stare back at him.
*ba-bump*
Unable to look away, he watched as the two silver eyes that had filled him with fear and anxiousness began dimming.

“R-Run…” With a final breath, blood spurted out from his father’s mouth and neck as the light in his father’s eyes died out.

*ba-bump!*
The sound of his own heart was threatening to explode, but his already numb body simply shook as he watched the pool of red liquid continue expanding.
“F-father…”

“There is no need for sadness, child.”

*Ba-bump*
The zerakin’s words entered his ears, but all he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating as he blankly stared at the scene before him.
*ba-bump*
His mother who had sacrificed herself in an attempt to help them escape.
*Ba-bump*
The father who had also given up his life in an attempt to fulfill that sacrifice. 
*Ba-bump!*
The pounding of his heart grew louder as if fear itself was squeezing at his chest.

“It will be it painless. You shall not suffer.”
The zerakin spoke again, and the sound of armored footsteps slowly approached him.

*Ba-BUMP!*
“Huu… *sniff* mother… father…”
Powerless and unable to do anything for them while they were still alive, instead of running as he had been told, he willed himself once more to reach out for them.
“No… don’t leave me…”
Yet again, his own body would not move.
“Please… please d-*Ba-BUMP!*” don’t leave me alone. He wanted to cry out, but the words were drowned out by his own heartbeats.
They were truly gone just like his brother Rolam and no matter how much he begged or cried, none of them would ever return.
*Ba-Bump!*

“My apologies.”

Words ringing with hollow and false compassion descended upon him as he stared at what was before him.
*BA-BUMP!*
They had both died trying to protect him and soon it would be his turn.
*Ba-Bump!* *Ba-BUMP!*
*Ba-Bump!* *Ba-BUMP!*
“Unghh!!!” Unable to hold back the fear and anguish, he clutched at his chest as the pain within imploded upon itself.

“AuhK!?!”

The zerakin grunted in confusion before him, but he did not care.
His mother’s screams of horror filled his ears instead as he recalled the agony she had endured in her last moments.
*Ba-BUMP!* *Ba-BUMP!*
*Ba-BUMP!* *Ba-BUMP!*
No longer able to feel the well of tears that had already dried up within himself earlier that day, “Guh- KguuAAHHHH!!” He cried out loud as the pain she must have felt assaulted him.

“N-?! Wha- what is happening!?”
Someone shouted but their words were swiftly drowned out by his own screams.

“This! this is…?!”
The sound of the zerakin’s surprised voice trembled through the air but it no longer held any impact.

‘The House of AnDargus will never again kneel before those who can do naught, but take from others.’
Two silver eyes manifested in his mind.
No longer an overwhelming coldness of disappointment and scorn, they were filled with sorrow and guilt. Hopeful and tender eyes of love, hidden behind a wall of stoicism and unrivaled expectations.
‘I will die with pride, knowing that I have finally stood up to fight for what is just and what is right.’
Anger. Fear. Joy. Loss. Hate. Love. Sadness. Happiness. REGRET.
Instead of tears, everything that had been suppressed swelled upward.
“UuuuuAAHHHHHH!!!”
And he screamed, unable to contain the raging tempest within as something else filled his eyes in place of tears, dyeing the world an unforgiving red.

*BA-BUMP!* *BA-BUMP!*
*BA-BUMP!* *BA-BUMP!*
*BA-BUMP!* *BA-BUMP!*
*BA-BUMP!* *BA-BUMP!*

“Kill him!!!”
The zerakin’s shaken voice shook the air, this time sounding like it was struggling to approach.

*BA-BUMP!*
*BA-BUMP!*
*BA-BUMP!*
Ignoring whatever it was that had stained his vision and was now rolling down his face, he forced himself to lift his head up in one last act of defiance. A final show of courage and dignity at having been born a man of his prideful house, and to commit an image of the person who would send him into the eternal dream.

*BA-BUMP!*
*BA-BUMP!*
*BA-BUMP!*

Yet instead of blissful severance and sweet release, there was silence.

Like a statue, the the red knight towered before him. Her posture threatening with arms swinging outward as if to deliver a blow, but forever caught in the ocean of time.
“Wh-”
Through the thin slit of her helmet, the zerakin’s piercing blue eyes caught his own and within its cerulean glow, he could see fear and disbelief existing in turmoil.
It was as if something invisible had taken hold of her and she too, was just as surprised as himself.

The day’s incident still intensely fresh on his mind, ‘YOU!’ His devastated innards screamed in anger, willing for her to die. “AAAAAHHHHH!” As he roared in anger.

As if in accordance to his will, with an ungodly wail, the zerakin’s helmet began caving inward into her skull as four other voices screamed out in unison.

“AhghK-!”
A searing pain ripped through his head.

Tearing his eyes away from the gruesome spectacle, the pain whipped him painfully along the left side to his body before surging into his chest.
“UGH! UAAAHHH!!!”
And he screamed even louder, painfully clutching onto his chest as the sound of metal plates hitting stone resounded around the room.
“UGAAARRAAAAHHH!!!!”

As swiftly as it came, the pain quickly vanished.
In its place, an unknown darkness was slowly enveloping his mind, voraciously devouring what little strength he still had left.

The audience chamber had mysteriously gone dead silent and with it, all of his senses.

 

B3 Chapter 4 – Child of the Silver Plains

“NOOOOO!!!” A piercing cry shredded apart the frigid atmosphere.
Drenched in a cold sweat, he frantically opened his horrified eyes and anxiously pushed himself up from the freezing ground.
He was no longer surrounded by darkness, but sitting amidst a world of white.

Ignoring the freezing cold and the thousands of white flakes that were dancing around him, he fearfully willed his arms out.

With unsteady motions, hesitation and confusion grazed at his thoughts as he turned his gaze downward. Shuddering briefly, he felt his body shaking in relief as frigid air filled his lungs.
“Ag- Gukk-”
His arms were still there. Slim and pale as he remembered.
There were a number of still bloody blisters and scratches on the inside of his palms along with welts and bruises along his arms, but nothing out of the ordinary. Bringing both hands together, though freezing, his fingers were tangible and easily moved in correspondence to his will.
With another thought, he commanded his legs to respond and they instantly stirred underneath his frost-covered cloak.
He was still whole.

Still shaken but having confirmed the existence of his limbs, he lifted his unsteady hands up to his face.
“Huh?”
His vision blurred and he felt his eyes watering.
“W-what?” 
The ephemeral nightmare rushed back into his mind, reminding him of the darkness that had so wholly encapsulated him within the endless ocean of nothingness. Yet, it was not the fear or horror that had forced such a reaction.
“Uhhkuh!!”
He gritted his teeth as tears began flowing out against his will.
“Ughuuu!!”
Try as he might, he could not hold them back as loss and loneliness clutched at him from within. It was as if he had lost a part of himself within the darkness, a part of himself that he could no longer recall.
Burying his face into his arms, he silently wept as the unknown emotions slowly weaved together and faded, leaving only the vigorous sound of his beating heart and his own sobbing.

For what felt like an eternity, he sat alone, wallowing in the unknown as thoughts shimmered in his mind like reflections upon a turbulent pond, fleeting and fragmented.

“Over here! He’s awake! Hurry!”

A hoarse and haggard voice grated loudly through the cold atmosphere, startling him and forcing him to end his tears.

“Who had the keys?!”
A different voice rang loudly through the air, followed by the sound of crunching snow and heavy breathing.

Wiping his swollen eyes with the inside of his cloak, he turned toward the disturbance and quickly froze.
Covered in thin veils of snow, dozens of neatly spaced out stones were protruding from the ground all throughout the area around him. In dark drab colors, some appear to have been intricately carved while others were of simpler designs.
Beside him, the spot where he had been sleeping and was now sitting atop, was also itself a grave with a large headstone.

Memories of why he was there in the first place surged back into his mind and he hastily stood up. Tentatively stepping away, he turned his gaze toward the voices once more, this time spotting a number of men behind the cemetery’s set of large gates.
Uncertain as to what was in store for him, he began taking slow and fearful steps backward.

“Rhultal!!”

The powerful voice thundered through the air toward him, evaporating all the falling flakes in its path and instantly quieting the multitude of other chatters.

His insides shriveled at the tone and his gaze unwittingly found itself locking onto a tall slender man with shoulder lengthed silver hair. ‘F-father…’ Jolted wide awake by the man’s undoubtedly furious expression and stern glare, he instinctively lowered his eyes to the ground. With his legs unwilling to move, tears began welling up from within himself once more as the gates screeched open.

“Rhul!”
Unlike his father’s commanding tone, a woman’s voice entered his ears.
Filled with relief and panic, the voice wrapped itself around him like a tender flame as a set of light footsteps hurried toward him.
Edging his face upward, a slender woman with amber eyes and loose brown hair tightly embraced him as she reached him, “What are you doing out here!? Don’t you know how worried we were?!” She shouted, failing to hide her relief behind a mask of anger and panic.

Unable to muster a reply, all he could do was stifle his tears in an attempt to stay strong as the grogginess of sleep vanished and his mind returned to him.

“That is enough, Meryl.” His father’s deep voice intruded as heavy footsteps stalked toward them. Firm and irate, it swept over him like a fierce wind. “You coddle him too much. It is time he grew up.”

“Grow up?!” His mother snapped back, her eyes flaring angrily like an animal’s. “Why do you think he is out here in the first place?! Don’t you know how frail he is?!”

“It was your excessive pampering that has made him this way. I am merely aiming to correct that.”

“He’s nine!”
She quickly lifted up his cloak and took hold of his arms, revealing the crisscrossing lines of old bruises and fresh welts all along his forearms.
“There are better ways to go about it than thrashing him until he cannot move!”

“He must awaken to his potentials… and for that, I will do whatever it takes.” A cold and unfeeling reply without a hint of remorse or sympathy came from the man before them. Even without looking up, he could sense the raw disappointment in his father’s silver glare.

“He is not Rolam. Or are you so blind that you cannot see your son for who he is?” She retorted.

“Weakness is a death sentence and we will not be here to protect him forever. Remember that.” His father finally conceded after a long pause and stepped back. Without a second glance, the man quietly turned around and trudged back toward the gate to where the others were waiting.

Left by themselves, “I- I’m sorry, momma.” He meekly apologized, tears already leaking from his eyes. “I- *sniff* I can’t be strong like Rolam. I-”

“Hush now.” His mother pulled him in closer.

Safe within her arms, his chest swelled further and his face twisted as tears erupted forth like an overflowing spring.

The snow had already stopped by the time his tears dried up. Barely able to keep his eyes open due to the excessive emotions, he tiredly leaned his head against his mother’s chest as they sat before the large headstone.

Stroking his shoulder as she held him close, “Is this cloak you’re wearing the one you got from Rolam?” His mother questioned softly, her voice low and soothing like a warm melody.

“Uhn.”

“I see…” Without saying anything else, she lifted her hand from his shoulder and affectionately ran her fingers through his silver hair, brushing it in a smooth calming rhythm.

“I miss him…” He whispered, his words weak and tired.
Pulling the enchanted black cloak tighter around himself, its warmth continued to wrap around him as it always did.
Just like the first time he donned it, and just like that day underneath the rains when his brother passed.

“I know you do.” Lowering her face to his own, she tenderly stared into his eyes and he could see her beautiful amber eyes darkening and filling with sorrow. “I miss him too.” She added before slowly turning her attention to the slab of beautiful dark marble before them.

There was sorrow and anger within her expression as she stared at the headstone and unable to do anything for her, “I’m sorry.” He meekly apologized.

“Hm? For what exactly?” Tilting her eyes curiously back down to him, there was a melancholic smile on her face.

“For running away.” He timidly replied, recalling his actions and admitting his shame. “For making you worried.”

“As you should be. This is no place to be wandering about for a child, especially alone at night. What if a shambler had found you? Or worse, a planes walker?” His mother probed at the admission, teasing him in turn as her smile brightened.

“T-those are not real, and I-” Halting his words, “I just…”

“I know, sweet one. I know.”
Extending her right hand forward, his mother gently placed her palm against the frosted marble slab and muttered an incantation.

Bright golden flames immediately surged outward from her hand to coil around the headstone, effortlessly melting away the snow that had settled upon it.
With another word, the golden flames brightened intensely for the span of a single breath and then vanished.

The headstone slowly lit up as the inscriptions upon it began glowing faintly.

Rolam Vox Anralt AnDargus.
Inscribed and glistening with the silver of Andarg, the name was all that was left of his venerable elder brother, the pride of the silver plains.
A remnant of the man who had been carrying his parent’s hopes and dreams, and the dreams of their house. A memory of an ally who had always shielded him whether he was right or wrong.

“Have you calmed down?” His mother spoke as a chilling breeze swept around them while they sat in silence. “Your cloak may protect you from this weather, but mine does not and it is awfully cold out here.” She added, making an exaggerated show of the chill.

“I- but what about father?” He reluctantly questioned.

“What about him?”

“He hates me.” He could feel himself shrinking upon his own words.

Holding back a chuckle, his mother smiled. “Your father cherishes you. Why would you think otherwise?”

“He does not.” He grudgingly disputed, his reply low and powerless almost like a whimper. “Father detests me. H-he said that he did not need someone like me. That it should have been me, instead of- instead of…” His lips faltered upon the words as the well of tears within himself began swelling upward again.

“Enough.” Her arms that were still wrapped around him tightened. “Your father was not himself last evening, and I can assure you that he has been regretting his choice of words. He would be a fool to say such nonsense again.”

“But I… I’m weak. And father-”

“You are gentle.” She interrupted. “That is not the same as being weak.”

He slowly edged his head upward to look at his mother. “But-”

“No more buts.” She cut him off again and carefully resumed her gentle strokes through his hair. “He is hurting, you know? He…” She paused and silently gazed at the headstone before them. “Your father blames himself for what happened to Rolam…” She eventually spoke, her voice vibrating softly and reluctantly. “He has been unable to cope with the loss even after all this time and he is hard on you not because of your weakness, but because of his own.” 

Looking upward, he quietly stared at his mother. Though she was putting up a brave front for him, he could see the turmoil that was eating at her from within.

“A weakness of anger and fear, one of being unable to protect his own land, his own people, and his sons.” She continued as her hands slowed upon his hair, “He’s in a lot of pain even now but, being the sort of man that he is, he will never allow himself to show that weakness. Especially to you.” Halting her strokes, she lowered her amber eyes and stared painfully into his again as her long brown hair fell around his face. “He is not as strong as you think, sweet Rhul. He is falling apart. He’s been falling apart ever since your brother, and I fear…” As if hesitating to continue her thoughts, she stopped and her voice slowly trailed off.

Seeing the brave exterior that was filled with sorrow and silent lamentation, even though her eyes were gazing down at him, he could tell that she was looking at something else.
Ashamed at himself for being selfish and childish after the tongue lashing from his father the previous night, “I… I am sorry, momma. I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking.” He could only give an apology.

“And I accept, sweet one.” Lifting her head, she returned a warm and curious smile. “But you… you are not as weak as your father thinks. Coming out here all by yourself. Were you not afraid?”

“A-a little.” He confessed, faintly recalling the edging fear upon waking earlier–a fear he could no longer remember.

“Just a little huh?” Her smile broadened into a teasing grin briefly before disappearing again. Angling her attention back to the headstone, she softly reached out and brushed the name that was still glowing. “It sure has been a long time since we last visited, hasn’t it?”

The AnDargus manor loomed over the dreary horizon like a rotting husk in the midst of Sianoveil. As it was a period of rest and recuperation, the farmlands all around had been burnt after the latest harvest and the fields of crops were now nothing more, than frost covered ashes to help restore and give back to the ever-bountiful land.

A heavy and tense atmosphere began setting in as their mana infused carriage rolled itself through one of the four farming communities that circled their manor.
In strict contrast to the usual celebration and joys of years prior, the air was filled with an uncanny silence that robbed one of self and passion.

Looking out the window, he silently scanned everything that they passed by.
From the few people still wandering about or making their way home, to the increased patrols, and to the various empty houses that were becoming more prevalent. Upon spotting another carriage adorned with the insignia of their house–the silver stallions–being loaded up, his face stiffened and he quietly held down a frown.

As if she had caught the change in his expressions and seen what he saw, “The Jirlfanz.” His mother spoke from where she was sitting opposite him. “They have been reassigned to a different lord and asked to be allowed leave before the year’s end. Your father sent people to help as gratitude for their years of loyal service.”

“…” Silently staring out, he did not reply as there was nothing to ask further nor was there anything that he could do about it.

The reassignment of lordly subjects was handed down from the Imperial Court itself, and to go against such orders would be high treason. All they could do, was to accept it and wait for someone else to be reassigned to them.

As it is, the Jirlfanz were not the first loyal subjects to be removed from his father’s influence and from how things were going, they would not be the last.
Five altogether, the Jirlfanz where but the latest in a series of political maneuvers that had been enforced in ordered to weaken their house.

“We’re almost home.” His mother’s voice quickly drew him out of his thoughts. “There is something I must tend to so I will not be going with you, but I want you to go and apologize to your father once we’ve arrived. Afterwards, you will meet me in the courtyard. There is… something that you must know.”

“Mother?” He questioned, having heard the conflict in her voice and seeing her hesitation.

“There- … there is reason as to why your father has been so harsh. Why he pushes you so…”

“Reason? What reason?”

Instead of answering, his mother turned her attention out the window. “I will tell you once you’ve apologized to your father. After what happened, I don’t think he will be against me telling you…” Her voiced faded off again as she simply stared into the distance.

Understanding her unwillingness to speak further, he quieted himself and also turned his gaze toward the outside.

“We cannot stall much longer!” A voice reverberated through the hall from his father’s closed audience chamber and he quickly slowed his steps. It was a voice he had heard before, but one he could not put his fingers on. “My storehouses barely have enough to see my people through until the next harvest. Even then, due to the increasing number of refugees funneling in from the eastern provinces, it might not be enough.”

“The house of AnDargus will ration its store houses to assist you if that is your primary concern, my lord. But as for the heart of our matter, we will proceed as planned and wait.”

‘Proceed as planned?’ He wondered, hearing his father’s composed voice. Moving closer, he stopped outside of the door, uncertain of whether he should interrupt their curious conversation or not.

“We are gracious for your generosity my lord, but you have been provisioning others from own storage and treasury. I fear at this rate, you may not have enough for yourself and yours with how heavy the taxes have been lately.” A third voice cautioned, their words barely audible through the doors.

“Lord Throlg of Dalacur has already pledged his service to our cause. With his resources, even should I exhaust my own, we will still be alright for the time being.”

“With the way things are going, I do not see how that miser’s assistance or any of this is fine, my lord.” A fourth voice. “And it is not as if we need his assistance. As it is, the House of Jaedine, Mursuvas, and Aulthaur are already in the final stages of preparation. The various guilds have also been preparing for this, and the majority of our forces are also nearing ready. Should you give the orders, we can be marching before the new year.”

‘Forces? Orders? What are they preparing for?’ More questions filled his mind.

“We must not rush. We have already spent three years patiently waiting.” His father spoke, quelling the others. “If we make haste now and fail, how will I explain it to my wife and son? To my people? How will you explain it to yours? Being so close, we cannot allow a moment of uncertainty to cloud our judgement.”

“But my lord. How can we-”

“Lord Sebaran… I am not blind to what has been happening outside of my own domain. The people are suffering, but we cannot be rash. Since we have decided to do this, let us do it right. We cannot not fail. The people deserve that much.”

“I-… as you say, my lord…”

“Indeed. Let us wait for Lord Rholan’s emissaries to return before proceeding further.” A fifth voice added to the discussion.

“Thank you, my lords. Kvanh and Eunso should be back before the year’s end. Let us discuss further once they have returned with their reports.” His father’s voice paused momentarily, then, “Are we in agreement?”

“Aye, my lord.”
“The Star Manor of Vrethral shall await your words.”
“Yes… the House of Ulqurin will bide our time as well.” A somewhat defeated compliance.
“The Scalvang Guild and its subsidiaries will also stand down until it is time.”

Four distinct voices answered his father.

“Then gentlemen… I thank you all for coming, and let us adjourn for now.”
His father dismissed and the sound of chairs moving could be heard before footsteps began approaching the door from the other side.
Glancing back at the corridor that he had trekked to reach the audience chamber, there was nowhere to hide.
“Rhultal.”
The words came from the other side of the door, instantly causing him to tense up.
“Open the door for our guests, would you?”

Surprised, he quickly grabbed the chamber door’s handle and pushed the large and magically infused double doors. They swung opened without much effort, revealing four men and his father inside the room.
Each was as regally dressed as his own lord father and as they made their way toward him, in an effort to hide the humiliation of what he had done, he quickly stepped aside and lowered his head. Recalling them to each be influential lords with their own respective houses, he did not dare to lift his head until they had all passed.

“Eavesdropping is beneath one belonging to the house of AnDargus.”
A sharp and cold reprimand instantly whipped at his ears as the others disappeared.

“I-I’m sorry. I did not intend to-”

“You are sorry and you did not intend to eavesdrop?” His father’s cold silver eyes shifted to glare down at him. “There were no guards outside. You should have known what that meant.”

“I-…”

“You also made no effort to announce yourself to our guests. Instead, you stood motionless like a common criminal listening in on our conversation and you are telling me you did not mean to do such a thing?”

“I am sorry, father.” He lowered his head in shame, unable to contradict the statement.

“You…”
The glare upon him intensified and even without looking, there was undoubtedly an angry scowl on his father’s face.
“While it pains me, you are a man of the AnDargus House. Next time, you will do as a respectable man of our house does and announce yourself before reputable guests. You are not a child anymore and are old enough to know what is right and what is wrong.”

“Y-yes, father.” He stuttered, not daring to raise his head.

“Now. What is it that you want?” There was neither love nor compassion in the question. Only disdain.

Quickly stepping into the room, he got on his knees and prostrated himself before the man. “I- I was wrong.” He eked out. “A-as a man of the AnDargus house. As someone who is sworn to protect this land of AnDarg… to have fled in the face of adversity and to cower before our ancestors, I apologize. I b-beseech you… please forgive me…” He mustered with all his sincerity while holding down a surprise at not botching the rehearsed words.

“How presumptuous… if you’ve nothing else to say, then go away.”

“Father…” He planted his face on the ground, feeling the dry well of tears bubbling forth once again. “Pl-please…”

“Run to your mother. I have wasted enough time on you this day.”

“Fa-…”
Gritting his teeth in an effort to withstand the impact of those words, without lifting his face he turned around and fled from the room as his father had bade him to do.

The solitude and chill that weaved through the opened windows did nothing to calm his troubled mind as he laid upon the cold stone floor of his own chamber. Instead, as he gazed toward the open windows, thoughts of flinging himself through them entertained him, even beckoning him forth to join his brother in everlasting dream.

Looking away from them, he turned to his side and closed his eyes as the sound of hooves thundered into the courtyard outside and a commotion began.

How peaceful his brother Rolam had looked that day.
It has been over two years since, but he could still remember his elder brother’s face as they encased him in marble in preparation for the eternal journey.
How his father had stood stoically as the mages did their job, even though he had heard the man weeping in secret the night before.
How his mother had cried and begged for the mages not to seal her son, his brother, away until she lost consciousness.

‘Would they do the same for me?’ He thought to himself, wishing it was him instead of Rolam as their father had said.
‘Would father have grieved in silence for me? Would mother have cried every night like she did for Rolam?’
He wondered, angling his head to look back at the opened windows as whatever was happening outside got louder and louder.

“It would probably be better if I was…”
He softly whispered aloud and with weak arms and unsteady legs, slowly pushed himself off the floor and stood up.

*Blam!*
Someone slammed open his chamber doors, halting him in his steps.

Tensely turning around to see who it was, “Rhul!” His mother screamed his name as she rushed over to him.
On her face, there was nothing but terror and panic.

B3 Chapter 3 – Voices

Sylvia groggily opened her eyes.
It was barely the break of dawn yet no matter how much she wanted to, her body would not allow her to slumber any longer.
*Huwahh…* Making due with a tired yawn and lightly stretching her arms, she forced herself to sit up on the bed like she did every morning.
Squinting as silence persist through the room, she waited for her eyes to adjust before turning to the young girl sleeping next to her.
Her lips lethargically curved upward into an amused smile.
 
Anise had kicked her blanket to her feet and was now almost sleeping sideways. A lock of hair was stuck to the side of the girl’s face and the girl’s small right arm seem to have gotten pinned underneath her head.

“How did you even sleep like that in this cold?” Sylvia questioned aloud and reached
over to gently brush back the hair on Anise’s face. Carefully trying to free the young girl’s hand, she stopped as two circular objects around the girl’s neck caught her attention within the dimness of the room.
She had seen them numerous times before, but this time she could not look away.

One was undoubtedly the sleek black ring and the other, an almost dull silver ring. Both looked ordinary enough yet, ordinary they were not.

As she stared at them, ‘… Everything will be fine.’ A reassurance seems to echo from the rings, whispering with a calm, almost ethereal voice.

Sylvia stilled her hands.
Thinking back, she easily recalled the girl’s odd behavior on various occasions.
The many times she went looking for Anise, only to find the girl whispering to herself.
The sudden and awkward silence whenever she made her presence known, along with the girl’s unusual cheerfulness that were always seemingly out of nowhere at times.

‘It’s a secret.’
Remembering Anise’s reluctance upon her inquiry about the ring’s glow, a tinge of pain struck her from within. For the girl to have kept such a thing from her after all their time together, it had been quite a blow.
*Plap!*
Slapping her cheeks, she swiftly discarded her thoughts and hesitation.

Looking at how peacefully Anise was sleeping she could not bring herself to blame the girl. She had seen why it was kept from her, and had personally stood witness as the darkness emerged from the black ring.
An unforgettable feeling of horrific terror, it had looked like the world itself was being swallowed by a never-ending night.
Yet as she clutched onto the girl’s small hand within the pitch-black abyss, instead of fear and panic, the dark embrace had been one of tranquility and calm. Of quiet solace and the knowledge that everything would be fine.
It was then that she had understood why the rings were always with the girl.

“You’re going to catch a cold.” She whispered, reaching down to the edge of the bed and pulling the blanket up over Anise. Carefully taking hold of the girl’s arm, she gently slid it out from under Anise’s head before getting up.
With a quick trip to her wardrobe for something warmer, she departed from her bedroom.

The silence pervading through the house was even more deafening than that of her own chamber and Sylvia shivered, feeling the icy touch of the morning through the thin blanket around her shoulders. The thought of going back for another pressed at her mind but the knowledge that she would soon be bathed in the warmth of glowing flames kept her legs from turning around. With light steps so as not to wake the others, she made her way down to the first floor and toward the kitchen as per her usual routine.

“Hm?”
Her eyes perked up upon seeing that the kitchen was alight.
All their servants had gone home due to the events of the previous day, yet the sound of chopping could be heard coming from within.
Curiously approaching the broken kitchen door, a soft and familiar humming entered her ears.
“Adalina?” She called out upon spotting who it is.

“Good morning, Sylvia. Did I wake you?” The older woman greeted, turning around to face her.
With Lance strapped onto her back, Adalina was standing next to the counter and appeared to be in the middle of chopping something.

“Good morning.” She promptly greeted back and stepped into the kitchen.
There was already a fire going in the stove and on the counter next to Adalina, was half a bowl of peeled tubers and onions. To Adalina’s right were also three lamb shanks and a large pot. “I didn’t think anyone was awake yet.” Sylvia added with a sheepish smile.

“Is that so?” Adalina reciprocated her smile and turned around to resume chopping. “This child woke me and I just couldn’t go back to sleep after feeding him so I thought I would make breakfast. What about you?” Adalina questioned, making a show of the wide-eyed boy on her back.

“I- I couldn’t sleep.” She lied, hiding a hint of embarrassment upon noticing the amount of preparations that were already completed.

“It’s probably the cold air. Lenard said they patched up what they could with wooden boards last evening, but it looks like some of the cracks are still allowing the morning chill inside. Why don’t you come stand by the fire?”

Seeing as her purpose for coming to the kitchen was already being fulfilled by someone more skillful, “Actually, I was wondering if you would like some help?” She asked, offering her assistance.

“Of course.” Adalina turned and there was a warm knowing smile on her face. “Can you finish dicing the onions and chop these up while I get started on the shanks?”

“Sure. What are we making?” Sylvia eagerly replied and walked over to take the knife from Adalina.

“I was thinking something thick and hearty for this cold weather.” The older woman answered, moving the empty pot onto the stove. “Something that we can let simmer until breakfast. What do you think?”

“So stew?”

“Correct.” Adalina grinned and began ladling a spoonful of oil into the pot.

With knife in hand, she picked up one of the onions from the bowl and sliced it into halves before proceeding to dice them.
By the time she was done with the onions and the furuce tubers, Adalina had already finished deboning the shanks and was already cooking them in the pot.

Quietly watching as the older woman began adding the diced onions and a handful of seasonings while casually humming a soft tune, “Adalina…” Sylvia quietly spoke.
She had been trying not to think of it, but the events of the previous day had already made its way back into her thoughts.
“Do you… do you think my father really had something to do with what happened?” She asked, recalling what they had learned from the house guards upon returning home.

“I don’t.” An instant reply. Adalina had stopped humming and was looking back at her. “Your lord father would never do something like that to you all. Like your mother said last evening, it must be a misunderstanding.”

“Mother did say that, but deep down I know she’s scared as well. Her making a fuss about the arrest and yelling at the guards yesterday… I’ve never seen mother like that before.”

“Everyone deals with their worries differently. Her methods are just a little louder than others, so don’t let it bother you. Your mother means well.”

“But you’re not like that. You- you’re different.” She countered, watching as Adalina added a bowl of water to the pot before slowly stirring again.

“Different?” A curious smile crept onto the older woman’s face. “How so?”

“You are calm even in these situations. Are you not worried about Troyle?”

“Calm?” Adalina chuckled. “I am anything but calm right now, honey. It’s just that I’ve learned to live with my worries when it comes to Troyle. There were times in his mercenary days when I didn’t think he would ever return, and when he did, he would always be bloodied and in pain for days. Those times were much worse, and I’ve come to terms that he will do whatever he needs to do, no matter what I say.”

“Oh…” She quietly lowered her head as her unsettling mind wavered between Adalina’s words and her own doubts.
“It is perfectly normal to worry about those you care for, Sylvia.”
As if seeing through her woes, a hand gently pressed itself against the top of her head and she was soon in a warm embrace.
“I understand. It is hard not knowing, but sometimes… sometimes all we can really do is to trust and wait for them to return.”
She lifted her head and Adalina was smiling down at her.

“Preferably with something filling and delicious, of course.” Adalina supplemented, her motherly smile shining brightly.

“You’re strong.” The words came out of her mouth like a whisper. “You know. My father always says that Troyle is the strongest guard he’s ever had. That he’s thankful to have a friend like Troyle watching out for him, but I think- I think you are much stronger.” Sylvia returned an awkward smile.

“Well of course.” Adalina asserted matter-of-factly while raising her nose haughtily in jest.

Seeing the display. “Hehehe. Thanks, Adalina.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” Releasing her from the embrace, Adalina stepped back to the stove.

“Hey, Adalina?” She called out again as something else probed at her curiosity.

“Hm?”

“I um… I wanted to ask you about something.”

“What is it?”

Two rings slowly phased into her thoughts. One black, the other silver.
“Do you know about Anise’s rings and what they can do?” She questioned, looking carefully at Adalina.

An astonished expression appeared on Adalina’s face, followed by a reluctant half smile. “… I do.”

 

***

 

-Malpaars-

The southern forests.

Looking at the overgrowth of dense vegetation before them, “Are you sure this is the same path we took?” Vick questioned, turning to a lanky and dark-haired man beside him.

“As sure as balls on a breeding bull.” The man replied, stepping before the wall of green. “But you are definitely correct in thinking that these bushes and plants weren’t here before.” The man stated and slowly forced his way into the undergrowth. “Come. There is something you need to see.”

“Slek?”

“Come on!” The man shouted back, his tone sounding uneasy as he ventured deeper.

Following the man into the unnatural garden of green, they soon came to a stop. “What is it?” Vick questioned, seeing that the man had turned to look back at him.

“Look at this.” Stepping aside, the man named Slek revealed a waist high plant with sparse and thin forking leaves. “This is a kanelia sapling. It is a fruit tree native to the forests surrounding Anjoul, a small port town on the east coast. You can tell by the forked tips of its thin leaves and how they curl upward, instead of slanting down like other leaves.”

“Okay… what’s the problem then?” Vick questioned, squatting down beside the man to get a closer look at the sapling.

“It wasn’t here the last time we came by. And judging by its size, this sapling is at least a year old.” The man looked to Vick and there was confusion in his eyes.

“How can that be? Are you sure we’re not lost? Or maybe we just missed it before?” Vick queried as a cold chill began to crawl along his arms and up to his shoulders. Standing back up, he quickly glanced around at their surroundings once more.

“I am certain we are on the right track. Also, it’s not just this one. Look over there, and there, and beside that tree.” The man reflexively replied, pointing to a number of other kanelia saplings. “I personally scouted and plotted this path with Yoriig as a secondary escape route. There is no way we could have missed something this out of place, not to mention everything else around here right now. None of these plants were here when we last came through.”

“I don’t like this…” Vick cautiously stepped away from the sapling. “If you are correct and we were just here barely a fortnight ago, then this area here… everything around us should be nothing but wet moss and decaying foliage. How is this even possible?”

“I… I don’t know… I’ve never seen anything like this in my twenty-seven years as a tracker.”

Vick looked to the man. “You said Yoriig went in deeper to investigate?”

“Yes.” Slek fretfully replied, his eyes now darting nervously around them.

“Then let’s go back. We need to stop the group and find a place to rest while we figure out a different route.” Turning around, Vick began trampling through the undergrowth and back the way they came.

“W-wait. What about Yoriig?”

“We find a place to rest first.” Vick shot back. “If there is something unnatural about this part of the woods, I don’t want any of the villagers coming near here. We’ll come search for Yoriig if he doesn’t return by midday, but for now, our priorities are the hundreds of lives that are struggling behind us.”

Following his own tracks back, “What in the world is happening here?” Vick grumbled to himself, having seen the anomaly that the forward scouts were talking about.
It was as if the forest that had shed itself in preparation for the cold of Rinol was suddenly in bloom again, growing even denser and greener than before.

With a short hike, he soon ran into a trail of people.
Intertwining along the forest and stretching far into the distance, there were at least three hundred altogether. Consisting of elders, men, women, and children, they were the villagers who had stayed behind in the Esperen camp with Solio’s team.

One of the scouts swiftly ran over to him as he rejoined the group. A hunter, the man was one of the handful that had come with them from the other group. “Did you see it?”

“I did.” Vick answered, keeping his voice low.

“What are we going to do, Vick?”

“You said you guys took a look around its perimeters. How large was the affected area?”

“No idea.” The scout bluntly replied. “We spent all morning walking along its perimeters but the growth just kept going. Yoriig called us to report back to you before we even found any indication of how far it extended.”

“Haa… fuck.” Vick cursed, remembering how eerie and unnatural that part of forest had felt. “Send words down the line. For now, tell them something has come up and that we’re taking an early lunch break. Hopefully that’ll buy us enough time to come up with a different plan.”

“Alright.”

“And Jonns.” Vick stopped the man. “The supplies have been dwindling. If we have to go around whatever is up ahead, we are going to need-”

“I understand.” The scout replied without waiting for him to finish. “I will talk to a few of the others. We will look for game while you guys figure this out.”

“Thank you.”
Taking a deep breath, Vick watched at as the man began relaying his instructions to the others.

 

 

Stop. Don’t go. Turn back. Voices whispered in his head, reminding him of children’s stories and old wives’ tales. Mainly lore’s of nefarious phraes that would entrance and lure human children into the depths of the forest, only to be preyed upon.

Mindfully disregarding the childish thoughts, the tracker Yoriig slowly made his way toward the opening that he had spotted through the trees.
There was neither fatigue nor hunger in his body and he could not recall how long he had been slogging through the unnatural undergrowth, but he did not care. Something had caused the drastic change to the forest and he was determined to find out what.

The sky opened up before him and muffling his approach, Yoriig quickly hid himself behind a large overhanging tree that was leafing out of season.
As he surveyed the clearing, it quickly became apparent that the spacious opening was circular in design and extremely unnatural. There were no stumps, no fallen or decaying trees, or any indication that it used to be a forest.
Instead, it looked like something had plucked out all the trees from within and replaced it with a garden of various plants including shrubs, sprouts, flowers, and weeds, all blooming beautifully and evenly across the clearing.
Even more unnerving, was the fact that the he could not hear the sound of a single insect or animal coming from within such a lush environment.

It is not safe. Leave.
His gut feelings wisped around his mind, but he quickly shut them off.
Narrowing his eyes for a more focused look, “What is that?” Yoriig whispered to himself, spotting what appears to be the top of a large spherical object within the amalgam of vegetation. Before he could even think about it, his legs were already moving toward the object.

Stop. Turn back now. He is waking.
‘He?’
The word struck him and Yoriig immediately froze. The voices he thought to be his own had just cautioned him a warning.
The Destroyer. He will wake soon.
More voices echoed in his mind and he could hear the sound of his heart beating frantically upon realizing that he was not alone.
A bout of fear suddenly rippled through his body and with all his might, he fearfully and instinctively turned his gaze toward the clearing.

The dark spherical object was now glowing. Pulsing softly like a heartbeat, it was becoming brighter and brighter as whatever was covering it began peeling off.

As if it had been waiting, “RAAAUUURR!” A piercing roar shattered the unnerving silence, shredding through the area with a powerful shockwave.
From within the serene garden, hundreds of thin green vines erupted into the air and shot toward the glowing sphere, quickly wrapping around it and blotting out its light.

“W-w-wha-” Yoriig stammered as he stumbled backward onto the ground, having been abandoned by any semblance of a coherent word.

RUN!

The displaced voice of a child’s shrill cry resounded loudly in his ears and without taking a second glance at what was happening in the clearing, he fled.

 

 

‘You are beholden. You WILL find me. I WILL be FREED.’
The words echoed loudly throughout his body as if they were a part of him.

Heart racing uncontrollably, he willed his eyes to open.
‘No. No. NO. NO! NO!’
The entity formerly known as Rhultal screamed.
Forced awake from his slumber and the transient dream, he was back within the ocean of darkness and floating amongst loss and empty regrets.

‘How?! This is not real! I cannot be here!’
He shouted again but in here, he had no voice.

‘Get your swords.’
He blinked within the darkness and an image of a red-haired man swinging two swords slowly disintegrated before his eyes.
‘Kaidus’
He turned toward the voice and glimpsed a tender smile before it faded into the darkness amidst an aroma of nostalgia.
‘Kai!’
As the childish voice reverberated through his incorporeal body, he could not help but feel emotions welling up from within.

Everything was vanishing into the empty void. The brief life he had lived, memories of the dream.

‘No… there is one more. Please! Please…’
He begged, unable to bring himself to recall who it was that he was trying to remember.

‘Did you think you can escape me, Son of ***?’
A different voice spoke from within the abyss. Resounding loudly through the darkness, the voice gripped at his heart, crushing it.
‘You are MINE.’

Though he could no longer envision the fleeting dream, the new voice was one he could never forget.
One of death, it was a voice that had been born of a broken pact.
The voice, of an old enemy.

B3 Chapter 2 – Reckoning

The surrounding fields had been razed and roads upturned, yet Zorin Academy itself stood alone and unscathed. A wall of earth had sprung up around its perimeters like a dense barrier and the only addition that seem to have impacted the institute’s cleanliness, were splotches of blood and entrails littering the broken southern gates.

Weary and exhausted, Master Hamin Quinz took one look at the carnage around himself and tiredly stepped through the gates. It had been a long day and the unfortunate passing of fools were the least of his worries.

Master Keral followed, nodding graciously to the attentive feline that had come to greet them. Unlike its usual coloration of dried moss, the cat was covered from head to tail in what could only be blood.

Upon entering, tears flooded his eyes and Master Zaele knelt down onto the academy grounds. His body still flushed with mana, he gently laid out the body of his mentor onto the grass as his emotions overtook him.

“Zaele…” Keral whispered, seeing the younger master’s anguish.

“Guh- they… none of them even recognized him!” Zaele lashed out, barely able to contain his voice. “He gave up his life for this city and yet none… not one of them even knew what he did. No one even recognized the sacrifice he made!” He bellowed, planting his forehead onto the ground beside the corpse of the deceased headmaster. “KUH! AaaaGuuaHHH!!!”

“Such was the grandmaster. Were he alive, he would not fault the common folks for their ignorance. You should know that by now.” Hamin chided, his face a stoic and inflexible mask.

Out of respect, they had personally carried the headmaster’s lifeless body all the way from the 1st ward, giving it a last glimpse of the city that it loved.
Yet with the happenings around the city, they were but another trio carrying their dead amongst thousands of others.

“There is still much to do. Gather yourself and show the old man that his sacrifice was not in vain. He deserves at least that much from us.” Hamin added.

“F-forgive me. I just… I just need a moment to-” The ground shuddered beneath him and Zaele immediately paused. Slowly turning around, Keral and Hamin were already looking past the gates and toward the horizon.

“W-what is…?” Keral’s inquiry trailed into nothingness and his already pale face turned even whiter.

Though incomparable to what appeared earlier that day, a vast concentration of mana had manifested in the direction of the 11th ward Mystiks guild.

From his position on the ground, “This feeling… it is the same…” Zaele cautiously eked out, his tormented expression now replaced with uncertain fear.

“Why? Why is this happening again?” Hamin questioned alongside them.
Unlike his calm appearance, his tone was vexed and filled with dread as if a bone chilling wind had just swept through him.
“Kuh!” Shaking his head, Hamin muttered a swift incantation and a thin veil of mana flashed briefly around his vicinity, then vanished into his body.
Without looking to Zaele or Keral, “We will grieve when I return.”
He dashed out of Zorin, not waiting for a response.

 

 

“Please stop!”
Full of desperation, a man’s voice resounded through the room.
“I know you can understand me! I’m begging you, please!”

Dazed and confused, the taste of blood filled his mouth as the voice continued. ‘W-what happened?’ Huin Xoras Ravon wordlessly questioned, having regained consciousness.
Spitting out the wad of blood congealing in his mouth, “Ughkuuu?!” He groaned in agony as a sharp pain pulsed angrily throughout his body. A burning pain, it ripped across his chest like someone had struck him with a large cudgel. ‘Father…’ The hole in his father’s chest quickly surfaced in his mind.
“Haaak-uhhh…” Taking deep breaths in an effort to stabilize himself, he slowly glanced around the area.
The cold against his back and the dimness of the poorly lit room easily revealed that he was still within the trial chamber and lying against the wall.

“Stop! I order you to stop!” The voice screamed.

An image of his sword slicing through Alzin Varath’s upper torso flashed into his mind and, “No… I- GAaaruurggg-!”
Huin immediately clenched his teeth as excruciating pain shot through his right arm. With an almost tearful gaze, he carefully looked down at himself.  
Though his left arm was merely stinging, he could barely feel his right without biting down more pain. His sleeves were in strips and looking closer, there were deep and bloody gashes along his right forearm all the way up to his shoulder.
“Ugh! Ghaaa-” He groaned as the throbbing pain swept through his body again. Unable to move, he shakily refocused his unsteady vision toward the center of the room instead.

Troyle, the red headed guard was now standing where Alzin Varath had been. The man had his arms out and appeared to be pleading to someone within the room.
On their side of the table, none of the five mages were moving or saying anything. All of their eyes were in the direction of Alzin’s guard.

Aligning his gaze with theirs, Huin quickly spotted what they were looking at. The pain within his body seem to abruptly vanish.

Standing before the Varath guard and obscured by the walls of the chamber, was a silhouette even darker than night.
Pitch black and without features, an enormous amount of mana was emanating from it along with an overpowering sense of death.

‘It was real… it IS real…’ The thoughts corrected themselves in his mind as what transpired surged back into his memories.

The moment that he drew his sword, the red headed guard had also lunged at Alzin.
Along with the guard’s explosive movement, a torrent of mana had burst forth from beneath them, instantly blowing away the enchantment infused into his sword.
Like living threads, hundreds of dark fibers had caught his attack in midair and sliced apart his sword before driving themselves into his right arm.
Next thing he knew, his chest was burning and he was sailing across the room while gasping for air.

“In my son’s name, I beg of you. Please stop!” The guard helplessly cried out.

“… Our Warnings Go Unheeded… A Price Of Blood Must Be Paid.” A different voice crackled through the room. Cold and unnatural, it reverberated around the chamber as if originating from the very bricks lining the Crucible itself.

‘It speaks!’ The pain in his chest swelled even hotter, but Huin dared not look away.

“Please!” The Varath guard fearfully begged, not moving from the entity’s path. Hanging his head down, “Y-you have protected me again, and I am grateful. But p-please… please just leave it at that. I beg of you.” His voice was trembling. “These- these people here just wanted the truth and you have already p-proven our words. Please… if you kill any of them, I fear we will truly become enemies of this city.”

“An Inconsequential Fear.” The entity’s voice slowed into an ominous grating. “The Destruction Of This Ungrateful City… Is But A Simple Matter.”

Huin instinctively clutched his chest with his left hand. The burning pain seared through his body once more, yet all he could feel was the cold chill running down the back of his neck.

“No!” The guard shouted, holding his arms out fervently as if to hold back the entity. “No more! Please!”

“… So Be It.” The dark silhouette finally replied, and a number of black threads slowly unraveled themselves from the five mages. Surging back toward itself, the threads were absorbed into the dark creature’s main body. The sound of shifting sand vibrated through the air and the entity began dissolving, its featureless form slowly melting into what looked like sludge before vanishing into the floor.

As if their legs had gone limp, the mages all fell from their standing positions. Some stumbled to the floor in relief, while others fell back onto their seats in terror.

Sensing the overbearing pressure disappear, “Haaa… haaahahaha…” Huin painfully exhausted a laughter in defeat, having once again noticed the pain that was throbbing in his body.
“Y-you were right, father. Guh-!” He gripped at his chest again, ignoring the agony that came with each heartbeat.
The pieces were there all along. All he had to do, was watch and listen as his father had bade him to do. As his father would have done. “He- haaa… he was indeed the future of this city, but I… I am not so sure anymore. Not after what we’ve- what I have done…”

“M-my lord!”

One of the mages cried out, finally noticing his sorry situation as his body slumped to the floor.

 

 

Freed from her shackles, Evelyn could do naught, but quietly stare at her trembling hands.

In the blink of an eye, the barrier she had hastily cast against Lord Ravon was swallowed up and before she could even react, the lord was flying across the room.
Thousands of black threads had pierced through the magically reinforced floor like a water spout, and were already swirling around the red headed guard like a shimmering cloak.
In awe of the explosive spectacle, she could not help but stare.
By the time the thought of shielding herself came into her mind, it was already too late as she had already been rendered powerless by its tendrils.
With the threads digging into her body, she had been unable to do anything but watch, as the entity congregated into a being of pitch black night before her very eyes.

An overpowering presence, the feeling from it was reminiscent of the unnatural darkness that had appeared throughout the city earlier that day. But unlike their foolish assumptions prior, they could not dismiss the phenomena as the doings of their enemies.

“This… this is not good. We must get him to the physicians. Quick, help me!”

One of the mage’s shaken voice undulated through the room, but Evelyn did not dare to look. Staring down at her own hands, her lips began quivering, “Aa… Asiran. Enzar- No. En- Enve- Enveratas, Z-za- El- No… no no no.” No matter how much she willed it, the simple fire incantation would not reveal itself to her. ‘W-why? Why?!’ Her mind screamed, unable to sense the flow of magic within her own body. ‘Why can’t I – Ugh!’

‘Our warnings go unheeded… Destruction… A Simple Matter.’

The words replayed themselves like a waterwheel, churning round and round, echoing clearly and dreadfully within the midst of her mind.
She quickly hid her face in her hands, covering her own frustration and weakness. “U-GUuuH!” Unable to hide from her own fears, the thought of death continued to loom over her, encompassing her from within as the truth became all too clear.

Had the Varath guard not pleaded for them, they all would have perished.
Should the entity turn its ire against Ferrent, even with all the current mages of the three wards, they would be unable to delay the city’s destruction.

*Clunk!!*
The sound of the Crucible’s double doors slamming open resounded from downstairs, followed by the sound of shouting along with dozens of footsteps.

Feeling pathetic and doubtful of herself, she tiredly turned her attention to the two who were still standing across from her. The red headed guard Troyle, along with Lord Alzin Varath had yet to move from their side of the table.
On their faces were the same terrified expressions as her own.

 

 

Drained to the point where he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a dark corner and sleep, Master Hamin fleet footedly halted before one of the grand halls. 
Behind him, a few other mages had also arrived. Looking haggard and singed with some panic on their faces but appearing to be in good health, they had undoubtedly returned to the guild for the same reason he did.

‘What happened?’ He wondered, stepping into the grand hall.
The upwelling of mana had disappeared before he even arrived, but no matter where he looked, the mages moving about were in a constant state of agitation. The only ones who did not look troubled, were their magicless assistants. 

Not sticking around, he immediately made his way through the hall and toward the Crucible.

Spotting a mage three years his junior, “Byrthan.” Hamin greeted, seeing that the man was guarding the entrance to the black dome.

“L-Lord Quinz?!” The mage responded with a guarded yet surprised exuberance. “What are-” The man paused, eyeing him carefully. “… you too?”

“So you know why I’m here. What happened here?” He quickly countered.

The man looked around cautiously, then refocused his gaze onto Hamin. “I don’t know. It happened inside, and no one is saying anything.”

“Then-”

“What I do know, is that Lord Alzin Varath and his personal guard were brought inside earlier on quite the grievous charges.” The mage continued.

Hamin’s eyes widened at the news.

“His Lordship Huin Ravon came to us as well and was also led inside by Lady Evelyn. Then-” The mage hesitated momentarily before opening his mouth again, “Then that horrible feeling. Like being dragged under water with your legs and arms chained to a sinking boulder.” Byrthan averted his eyes away from Hamin’s. “None of us had dared to enter until it was gone…” The sound of defeat in the man’s voice was clear and obvious.

‘Huin Ravon?’ A tinge of curiosity assaulted his thoughts but, “What of those who were inside? Where is Lord Varath and his guard?” Hamin hastily queried, fearing for the worse.

“Lady Evelyn and the other mages should be in the Shattered Hall of Lys. As for his Lordship Huin Ravon, the lord has been taken to the Sapphire Room.”

“The Sapphire Room?” The guild’s resplendent room of healing surfaced in the corner of his mind. It was a place reserved only for those with the direst of conditions.

“He was quite badly injured.”

“Wha- no. Never mind. What of Varath and his guard?” Hamin repeated, dismissing the former.

“In the black cells.” Byrthan tentatively replied, taking a quick glance back at the double doors behind him. “They had insisted to stay in there for now.”

The tension in his tired body suddenly evaporated. “Haa…” Breathing a breath of relief and thankful that nothing had happened, “Any casualties?”

“No. Thankfully…”

“Thankfully indeed…” He echoed, slouching forward to place his hands on his knees to keep himself from falling over.

“Lord Quinz, are you-”

“It’s okay. I am fine.” Holding one hand up, he halted the man’s help. “I will head to Shattered Hall. Take care, Byrthan.”

“You too, Lord Quinz.” The mage replied, giving him a curt bow as he turned away.

Filled with a number of work spaces and lounges separated only by waist high dividers, it was not hard to spot the green locks of the Lithius family as he entered the Shattered Hall.

Sitting alone in one of the open lounges, Evelyn was quietly staring at the snacks placed out before her. Appearing to be lost in her own thoughts, she did not look like she had much of an appetite. As he approached her, she immediately turned to face him and stood up.

“Master Hamin.” She greeted, calling him by his title before quickly lowering her head in respect. “What brought you? Would you care to join me?” There was an inflection in her usually clear and vibrant voice.

Though he could see that the invitation was merely a courtesy on her part, there were things that he needed to discuss with her.
“Thank you.” Nodding, Hamin stepped into the small open lounge.
Taking a seat on the cushioned divan across from Evelyn, he took a moment to observe her.

Though there was a time when she was his student, the woman before him was now as powerful as himself, if not stronger. Gifted as a member of the Lithius house, she had always been someone who attempted to rationalize everything internally, before voicing her own thoughts. It was a trait that had hampered her greatly during her early years at the academy, and one that had brought quite a bit of trouble to himself and the other masters.

A slow and stilted moment passed by them both, and like the old days, it sauntered by without a word.
Seeing her discomfort, “Are you alright?” He finally questioned.

“W-what do you mean?” An unnerved reply, as if she had been caught doing something untoward.

“Evelyn.” With a swift incantation, he erected a sound barrier around their small area. “I heard that you were inside the Crucible when it happened.” Without circling the issue, he immediately got to the root of why he was there. “What did you hear? What did you see?”

After another long silence, “We- we all thought it was a lie.” Evelyn finally answered, her voice barely above that of a whisper. “That a familiar, one capable of thrashing someone like Lord Torkux to the brink of death was… was impossible. That such a thing couldn’t exist… for no mage could possibly subdue such a spirit.” She gazed at her knees. “Lord Syndrig had claimed it to be an elaborate ruse. A tale fabricated by Lord Varath in order to buy time for their collaborators… h-how wrong we were…”

Listening to Evelyn, he could see that she was visibly shaken. There was even a bead of tear trickling down the left side of her face. “That is enough, Evelyn.”

“I was so terrified that I- I couldn’t do anything! I couldn’t even move…”

“Do not blame yourself.”

“What have we done, Master?” Evelyn lifted her head and her eyes were filled with doubts, fear, and shame. “What was that- that thing? What did we see?”

*Ba-bump*
A child with hair of silver, standing like an irreproachable specter under the midnight sun.
*Ba-bump*
Glowing eyes that pierced through flesh and spirit alike, flattening all that would stand before them.
An immeasurable strength that had easily forced a Malizur to his knees.
The fateful night vividly flashed before his eyes.

“… Some call it a monster.” Hamin carefully replied, looking back at Evelyn. “Others believe them to be portents of disaster.” He paused, recalling the headmaster’s words–of the promise they had all sworn to uphold ever since hearing the old man’s thoughts. “The deceased headmaster considered him a blessing. Someone who will bring change to this static and dying world.”

Upon his words, Evelyn’s eyes lit up in shock along with a mixture of emotions. “What. What did you just-”

“You heard correctly,” Taking a deep breath, Hamin composed himself on his seat, “Ferrent’s Malizur has passed away. The grandmaster died protecting this city.”

“Nn… nuuu- UguuuAHH!” Unable to compose herself, Evelyn lowered her face into her palms.

‘I am sorry.’ He silently apologized.

Not because of the day’s loss or her pain, but because of what was to come.
People had seen it and the whole city had felt it.
There was no way to contain such delicate information anymore.
The Mystiks guild itself will be forced to thoroughly investigate the entity’s existence, and should the truth be revealed, there will undoubtedly be more bloodshed.

‘You may do as you will, young Dvitus…’ The old man’s words from that inauspicious night echoed loudly in his ears and unable to deny it, Hamin quietly closed his tired eyes.

 

 

Alzin blankly stared at the ceiling of the cell as the day’s events continued to shuffle through his thoughts–carefully rearranging themselves in order.

A picturesque memory of the breakfast that had been cooked by his youngest daughter early that morning. His sharp jabbing remarks at his eldest daughter’s incessant protest of marriage. He closed his eyes, and he could almost feel the kiss he had shared with his wife before Troyle’s arrival. Even now, his legs could still feel the vibrations of their carriage as they made their way toward the royal ward.

Anger swelled from within him and Alzin irritably pushed himself up from the flimsy cot.
It was to be a day of reckoning. They had obtained written confessions speaking out against the Vatenger boy. There were even statements elaborating on the conspiracy that had cost two of his guards. Yet just like that, everything had gone to shit.

“My lord?” Troyle’s voice came from his right side and he turned to see that Troyle had also gotten up. “Can’t sleep?”

“Too much on my mind.” Alzin replied, keeping his irritation hidden.
They were in the black cells, and the two of them had been placed in the same cell as per his request. Though the chamber itself was fiercely lacking in accommodations, after the day they both had, it was a welcomed respite.

“For a place dubbed the black cells, it really isn’t as bad as I thought.” Troyle quipped, leaning his head back against the wall and staring up at the dim crystal lighting their cell.

Unable to bring himself to laugh at the half-hearted joke because of Troyle’s less than cheerful expression, Alzin hunched himself forward and stared at the floor between them.

“My lord. If we-”

“Troyle.” He interrupted, stopping Troyle’s words short. Calmly looking up at Troyle, “My family has an estate to the east of Losboros. It’s been with us for as long as anyone can remember, and it was where my father was born along with his before him.”

Confusion reared itself on Troyle’s face. “I… I faintly recall you mentioning something about the land that was bestowed upon your family. Is that it?”

“It is.” Alzin steadily replied. “Though I’ve only been there a few times, the land is good and could be suitable for farming if some of the trees are taken down. The manor might need some renovating but it has been routinely looked after, and should be habitable with plenty of living quarters.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Haaa…” Sighing deeply, “I don’t know if my family can live in this city anymore after what happened today.” Alzin paused and carefully considered his words. “My faith toward the crown has been wavering these days, and even if we are exonerated from these allegations, I fear the people will not put such things out of their minds. As you’ve surely seen for yourself, we nobles can be quite vindictive and irrational at times.” Taking another deep breath, “I will not deny the fact that I am an ambitious man. Were I not, I would not be where I am today. But that is no secret, and my ambitions have always been open for all to see should they wish. Yet, because of my family’s deficiencies, our lack of magical abilities, I have had to prove myself time and time again, only to be seen as lesser amongst my peers.”

“My lord…”

“I tire of it, Troyle.” Alzin calmly stood up. Walking over to Troyle, he extended his right hand forward. “You are my protector, but first and foremost, you are my friend. Speaking as one man to another. If I were to leave Ferrent with my family, would you and yours come with us?”

B3 Chapter 1 – Bladed One

-Darsus-

“Troyle.”
Alzin Varath spoke as the iron gates of the 11th ward Mystiks Guild came into full view.

Startled and taken aback by the sudden mention of his name, Troyle turned his weary gaze away from the window. “Yes?” He answered, finally noticing that his legs had been drumming nervously against the side of the carriage.
Vastly different from his own despondent expression, the lord’s face was calm and collected. Even against the egregious claims levied against his name, Lord Varath had yet to lose his composure and even now, was still evaluating their situation.

“We will be there soon. Have you cleared your thoughts?”

Troyle’s body tensed.
Though it was but a misunderstanding, there was no denying the fact that he was becoming more apprehensive as they drew closer to their destination. “I… my lord. What is going to happen to us?” The intonation in his own voice felt like nails through his very being.

“I am uncertain, for the intricate workings of the Mystiks guild still eludes me. But what I do know, is that the judiciary powers granted to the guild is absolute. Were we to be declared guilty of this confusion, it could mean our immediate executions.” Lord Varath candidly replied, not mincing words. “Or at the very least, the seizure of all my assets and the exile of my household. Of course, that goes double for yours as well.”         

“Execution…” Troyle echoed the word as fear descended upon him. Different from the distinct terror of being locked in mortal combat, the terror of the unknown was gripping tightly at his flesh.

“Troyle.”
He looked up to see the lord carefully scrutinizing him.
“That thing from your sword- your son’s familiar. Can you call upon it?”

Seeing the Lord’s hopeful eyes, Troyle lowered his head. “No.”
He had tried on various occasions after learning of the familiar’s existence. Yet all his attempts had ended in failure.

“I see…” Lord Varath groused silently and laid himself back on the carriage seat.

Lamenting what he had done, he looked down at his helpless and unarmed self.
Kaidus’ familiar had disappeared without a trace, and not wanting to make the misunderstanding even worse, he had allowed his other sword to be confiscated.
He was naked. A swordsman without a sword riding into the unfamiliar. It was the worst kind of situation.

“Looks like we’re out of options. For now, once we arrive at the guild, walk behind me and keep your eyes peeled as usual. Let me do the talking. I will try and clear our names.”

Troyle lifted his head and looked up.
There was a determined expression on the lord’s face. It was one that seldom revealed itself, but it was evident that the man was quite serious in whatever endeavor was to come.
Taking a breath to calm his nerves, “Understood.”

It did not take long before their carriage was through the iron gates and they were being escorted toward the guild’s grand hall.

At least four stories tall and constructed of white stones, they entered into a large and extensive chamber with dozens of adjourning walls that seem to rise from, or meld into the ground.
The shifting walls had created dozens of rooms throughout the chamber and within those compartments, a number of notable lords and ladies were in the process of recuperating.
Throughout the chamber, stairs to the upper floors were manifesting and dematerializing as physicians hurried along, moving from room to room with their assistances in tow.

Not speaking a single word, their two escorts led them through the busy room and further in the depths of the organization that was the Mystiks Guild.

Sunlight trailed down onto them and Troyle looked up to see that they were outside.
Surveying their surroundings, the large building they had just passed through was but one of three interconnecting structures linked together by a number of arches and footpaths. He looked ahead, and saw that each of the buildings had a route leading directly to a large black dome at the center of the clearing.
His astonishment immediately ceased upon spotting a handful of figures clad in the red, black, and white of the Mystiks Guild standing before the structure.

“The Crucible…”
Lord Varath’s precarious voice wafted back to him and Troyle quickly adjusted his stride, seeing that the lord’s steps had suddenly lessened.

As they advanced toward the group, the mages who had been waiting deftly fanned out and surrounded them.
“You both may go.” A woman bade, not moving from her position before the black structure.

A number of years younger than them both, the woman was undoubtedly an exceptional beauty even amongst her peers. Her green eyes captivated them as they approached, and from her unwavering gaze, it was as if she was analyzing their every step. Tied in long green locks, her emerald hair flowed down to her side like a calm river alongside her beautiful pale face. Unlike the others who wore the duo colors of the Mystik’s guild, she was clad in a pure black robe with golden inlays around her shoulders. At the center of her robe was a golden crown, denoting her position as a mage of the royal ward.

With respectful bows toward the woman, the two mages who had been accompanying them immediately turned around and departed.

“I am Evelyn Lithius, the Iridescent Flame and court mage of his majesty King Sarjace J. Roulus Dalzon the Twelfth. I believe you both have been made aware of why you are here. Please, if you will.” She gestured to the building.

“Does the guild mean to have a trial right here and now?” Lord Varath asked aloud, his calm all but relinquished as they stood within the circle of mages.

“An issue of this magnitude cannot be postponed, my lord. The allegations against you are quite… heavy.” The woman curtly replied. Turning away, she began moving toward the doors that were now opening on their own.

“Wait!” Lord Varath cried out, halting the woman’s steps once again. “I assure you. This is all a mistake. An honest misunderstanding! If you would allow us to speak to Lord Torkux, we can-”

“Four broken ribs, a dislocated jaw, fractures in both arms, and multiple bruises throughout his body.” The woman interrupted, listing a number of injuries without turning to look at them. “Along with internal bleeding and a punctured lung, my colleague Lord Valk Torkux, the Incandescent Flame may not even survive through the night.”

“That… that can’t be. We didn’t…” Lord Varath’s stringent tone immediately deflated into a stammer.

“One of the Fives named you upon the grounds where we found him. As another of the Five Flames, I am here on his behalf to oversee this matter.” The woman stated solemnly and stepped toward the black double doors that were now wide open. “Let us not waste any more time. Seeking the truth at leisure benefits no one.”

Troyle stood frozen, vividly recalling what had transpired.
Kaidus’ familiar had indeed fought the guild mage, throwing the man around like a doll. Yet never in his wildest dreams had he thought to consider that it could have inflicted such damages.

“Go on.” One of the mages ordered from behind.

With heavy steps, Lord Varath stalked toward the entrance.
Discarding thoughts of fleeing and barely clinging onto his dignity, Troyle reluctantly followed after.

 

 

Holding tightly onto the reins of his father’s large diumsha, Huin Xoras Ravon stormed through the beaten streets of the 11th ward as thoughts of why and how circulated in his mind. His frantic pursuit had led him to the Varath household, but he had been too late and was now racing to the Mystiks guild.

‘Why did you do it? How did you do it?’
The questions hounded his relentless mind as the allegations from the mages locked itself in his thoughts.

Of those within the nobility, the Varath household and his very own Ravon house had always gotten along. His father had been a friend of the deceased former Varath head and even now, their children were close due to the nature of their two households.
 
“Why, Alzin?” He questioned against the thundering hooves of the diumsha.
The man was neither a mage nor a warrior. Beyond the man’s wits and acuity, even a newly trained squire could best him. Yet for his own father, the Knight Commander and a Raiha spellblade to have suffered defeat at the hands of such a person, it was inconceivable.

Arriving at the Mystiks guild, he passed the exhausted beast off to one of the many aids and rushed into the grand hall.

“Gerard!” Huin shouted, catching sight of the first person he recognized.

“Lord Ravon. Welcome.” Much younger than himself, the mage returned a polite bow.

“Alzin and his personal guard. I know they were brought here. Where are they?”

“They-” As if noticing the urgency on his face, the mage’s curious expression stilled. “In the Crucible, my lord. They were led inside not too long ago.”

“Thank you.” Without further words, he turned and rushed toward the back exit.

The Crucible stood in the distance as he left the grand hall behind him.
Though two stories tall and quite a large construct in itself, the structure was but its entrance.
The true body of the Crucible extended far into the earth, and stretched almost as wide as the guild’s three great halls combined. It was where enemies of the crown and mages were imprisoned, and where the darker aspects of the guild hid itself from prying eyes.

“My lord. What business do you have with the guild today?” A man stopped Huin as he approached the Crucible’s interlocking double doors.
Wearing the guild’s trademark white and red, the man was on alert as denoted by the traces of mana exuding from him.

“I have come to see my father’s murderers with my own eyes. To hear their answers with my own ears, and to deliver retribution with my own two hands.”

“The Lord Knight Commander’s death is a great loss for us all.” The man made a solemn bow. “But this is a different matter, my lord. I implore you to wait for the guild’s verdict.”

“I washed his blood away with my own two hands!” Huin shouted, recalling the state of his father’s body when they first brought him back to the manor. “I will not stand here and twiddle my thumbs while you all sit around asking one pointless question after another. You will allow me inside, Byrthan, or I will make my way inside.”

“Ha…” The mage gave a disappointed sigh. “You know I can’t do that, Huin. Please don’t try to force your way inside again.” The man stepped forward and with an incantation, six thick shafts of metal ruptured forth between the two of them.

Lowering his posture and placing a hand on his sword, “I’m serious, Byrthan. I will not think twice about stepping over your unconscious body again.” Huin shot back at the mage.

“I let my guard down the last time.” The man replied, bringing his hands out before him in a circular motion as if he was molding the air. “This time will not be the same.”

“I’m not here to play. If you will not move, I will force you once more.”

“My apologies, but I have been strictly instructed to not allow anyone through until the trial is over. Not even for someone such as yourself.” The mage replied with an unyielding stance.

“Then please pardon my transgression… again.” Gripping the hilt of his sword, ‘Ravon blade, 5th form. Blooming.’ Concentrating mana into his arm and then into the weapon, Huin Ravon flicked forward with lightning speed, sending a horizontal shockwave through the air.

“Tch!” Clasping his hands together, “Expand!” The mage shouted, immediately drawing his hands apart as if pulling something malleable.

The iron shafts quickly stretched like dough, forming an elongated wall of steel between them both and absorbing the shock.

Not waiting for his acquaintance to make the next move, Huin dashed forth at the wall. His body enhanced by mana and his sword rippling with power, he slashed through the metal like paper and kicked them away while making his way forward.

Bringing both arms in front of him in a defensive stance to catch the flying sheets, the mage quickly stepped back and slammed the ground with the tip of his right foot. Bending down, he smashed a fist into the ground and a blast of stone burst outward before him.

Seeing the magic attack, Huin twisted his body to the left as the jet of rocks grazed the side of his leather jerkin. Quickly lowering his center of gravity, he swiftly closed the gap between himself and the mage. Changing his grip on the sword, he swung at the mage with the hilt of his sword, aiming for the man’s side. “Ku-!” Unlike the last time, his attack was solidly repelled by a swirl of mana.

“Don’t underestimate me!” Dragging his right foot across the ground in a semicircle, the mage spun forward with a swift upward kick.
The ground where his foot had scraped exploded upward and dozens of fibrous vines whipped through the air, thrashing in conjunction with his movements.

Catching something else in his periphery, Huin hurriedly parried the vines and hastily backed away from the mage. As he retreated, sheets of metals began raining down on his positions, forcing him even further back.

“Like I said. This time is going to be different.” The mage declared, seeing the metal barriers between them.

“We’ll see about that.” Huin irately replied as he stood up. Changing his posture into that of a two-handed stance, he bought his sword before him, ‘Ravon blade, 5th form. Blooming.’ He tightly clutched the weapon with both hands and angled it forward toward the mage.
Pouring an abundance of his mana into the sword, the blade began glowing as the weapon heated up within his hands.

Seeing the outpouring of mana, “W-wait! There’s no need to go that far!” The mage screamed while frantically trying to put up a magical defense of his own.

Raising the sword with both hands, “True form, Crescent.” Huin edged forward with his right foot and swung downward.

A beam of light flashed outward like the crescent moon, surging along the path of the swing in a diagonal arc.
Etching a deep smoldering scar along the ground, it stretched as it flew through the air, searing through the handful of metal walls like they were made of water.

Yet before his attack could reach the mage, dozens of mana barriers quickly manifested in between them. As each barrier burst into thousands of light fragments, others quickly emerged to take their place, slowly absorbing the force of the powerful swordarte.

“Stop this at once!” A woman’s voice thundered through the air.

“L-Lady Evelyn. Hahaha…” The mage gave a stunned laugh, thankful to be unharmed.

“What is going on here, Byrthan?” Evelyn questioned, stepping out from the Crucible’s double doors. From her body, an explosion of mana was spilling outward and swallowing the entire area.

Brought back to his senses, Huin slowly looked around them.
Not only did the Iridescent Flame Evelyn Lithius herself come out to stop them, a dozen of others mages had surrounded them and were still casting barriers.
Sheathing his sword, “Lady Evelyn.” Huin quickly lowered his head to hide his embarrassment at the uncouth display, “I have come to see my father’s killers.”

“My lord. If I say no, what will you do?”

“I am a brash man, so I will definitely do something that I may regret.” Huin replied, not lifting his head. “But allow me this favor to see Alzin Varath. Allow me to seek my answers, and the Ravon house shall be in your debt.”

“It sounds like I do not have much of a choice, do I?”

“I hope you will accept my apologies should you refuse.”

“Huin, haven’t you had enough?” The mage Byrthan interrupted. “This is the Mystiks guild. Even if you are the next Lord Knight Commander, the ceremony of transference has yet to be performed. What you’re doing right now can only be taken as an attack against his majesty’s peace.”

“Peace be damned, Byrthan!! Did you not see what happened today or are you really that blind?” Huin spat back. “Our Lord Knight Commander is dead. My FATHER is dead! I believe I am entitled to some answers from those who were there at the time of his death.”

“You do know that there is-”

Evelyn quickly moved in front of Byrthan, stopping the man. “I am sorry for your loss.” She voiced, lowering her head sincerely toward Huin. “Though the inquisition has already started, if you would like to witness it, please follow me.” Lifting her head, she straightened her robes and strolled back through the double doors.

“No matter how you bend my words, we did not kill Lord Gelrin!”
A familiar voice echoed down to them as they ascended the spiral stairs toward the trial chamber–located on the top floor of the Crucible.

Looking ahead, the walls had come to an end and the beginning of the domed ceiling was already curving overhead.

“But you do not deny the grave injuries inflicted upon Lord Torkux, the Incandescent Flame, do you?” More voices resonated down to them.

“Do not mind it. I will cast a sound barrier once we have arrived.” Evelyn reassured, seeing Huin’s odd glances.

“Of course. Such a feat is nothing for one as yourself. Forgive me.”

“There is no need, my lord.” Evelyn politely replied as the top floor came into view.

A spacious second floor, the stairs had brought them up to the inside of the dome. Protruding from the back walls were rows of stone seats stretching throughout and around the room, all facing the center where a large semicircular table was situated.

Sitting on the rounded end of the stone table were five guild mages in their guild cloaks.
On the flat end of the table, was the head of the Varath house Alzin Shuziel Varath, along with his personal guard the red headed swordsman Troyle Paltos.

Whispering an incantation, Evelyn’s mana surged through the room and she quickly ushered them toward the table.

“Ridiculous!” An old but not yet elderly man roared, “A simple familiar would not have been able to do anything to one of the Five Flames. Had Lord Torkux wanted you dead, it would have been as easy as spitting for him!”

‘A familiar?’ Huin stopped as the word entered his ears.
The encroaching darkness earlier that day quickly came to mind, along with the face of a young black-haired youth.

“It is the truth whether you believe it or not. His lordship mistook us for the commander’s killer after my guard here had already dispatched the real killer, that of an aleithian man. What happened to Lord Torkux was unfortunate but it happened in our defense.”

“And yet you have been unable to prove the existence of that which aided you both. Where is this familiar?” The mages countered.

“I’ve already explained that!” Alzin Varath exclaimed angrily before quickly calming back down. “It disappeared into the ground after clashing with Lord Torkux.” He tiredly eyed the five mages. “As you are all well aware, I am but a powerless Mahj. My guard here is a magicless swordsman. Do you all really believe that we can overcome one of the Five Flames? That the two of us, can defeat a man who is known for his outstanding magical capacity and combat prowess?” 

The five guild mages looked at each other. “This is not getting us anywhere.”

“We’ve told you everything. You will not believe what we have said, and we cannot prove ourselves.” Alzin Varath concluded, sitting irritably on his chair. “What happens now?”

“If that is your final stance on the matter, then you and your guard will be condemned to the black cells.” Evelyn skillfully intercepted the conversation and calmly sat herself down on one of the vacant seats next to the other mages.  

Having not moved toward the table at all ever since hearing words of a familiar, Huin quietly stood and watched from behind.

“The black cells?” Alzin Varath repeated, his voice shaken up a bit. “For how long?”

“Until the guild has done a thorough investigation of both your houses.” Evelyn promptly replied. “Of course, that would mean investigating your businesses, partners, outside connections or affiliations, and so forth. I hope you understand.”

“You… you hope I understand?” Alzin Varath sat up straight and slowly took a deep breath. *BLAM!* “How do you have the nerves to sit there and ask me to understand this?!” He screamed, having slammed both fists onto the table. “My household lost two innocent guards and I have been fighting tooth and nail for the past turn, trying to bring their families some semblance of justice. Yet because the offender is related to the crown, I have been forced to wait and crawl around mindlessly like a fool, only to be turned away without my issues ever being acknowledged. Where was the Mystiks guild in that?!” Clenching his teeth in anger, he eyed the mages with fury. “Today… this city succumbed to the most devastating attack I have ever witnessed. Hundreds, maybe even thousands are dead and instead of spending your time out there… instead of spending MY resources that I have poured into this city to help those that have been impacted by this- this cowardly attack, we are instead here in the holiest of grounds to accuse me of colluding with the enemy? Where is the justice for my men? Where is the proof that I have acted against this city? Acted against the crown?”

Shocked by the tirade, a dazed silence quietly pervaded through the room.

“We are innocent in this. What happened to Lord Torkux is truly tragic and if I must, I will take full responsibility for the matter.” Alzin Varath continued, having broken the awkward stillness and claimed their attention. “But after having faithfully served this city my entire life, I will not sit here and quietly accept that I am a traitor. That I or my house had anything to do with what happened this day. That my guard or myself had any hand in orchestrating the Lord Knight Commander’s death.” Holding his ground, he did not dare to back down.

“… I believe you.” Evelyn finally conceded. “The Varath house has always performed their duties faithfully, and their contributions have always been generous. Rest assured, as a member of the Lithius house, I will personally see to it that your innocence comes to light.” Standing up from her seat, she lowered her head. “But please, I beg of you both. Until your innocence has been proven, please stay here for now. I fear that should words of what allegedly happened get out, you will both be in danger.”

“There is no need to wait.” Huin finally addressed the room and made his way to the table. “If it is just confirming their innocence, then we can sort that out right now.”

““My lord.”” The mages all greeted and nodded to him one after another.

“Huin? What are you doing here?”

Not taking his eyes off Alzin, Huin stepped to stand in front of the normally impeccably dressed man. Looking him up and down, Alzin’s fine clothes were marred with dirt, scrapes, and sweat. There was even a charred mark running down the man’s left shoulder.
He then looked over to the red headed guard.
From both of their ruffled appearances, they had undoubtedly been arrested and brought to the guild before having a chance to change or do anything.
“I have only one question for you, Alzin.”

“Huin. If it’s about your father, we didn’t do it.”

“I want you to answer me with complete honesty, or I don’t know what I will do.” 

“Please, Huin. You know me.”

“Answer me truthfully. Did you or your guard kill my father?” He demanded, staring sternly into Alzin’s eyes.

“No.” Alzin Varath replied, his voice firm and unyielding. “I would rather die, than betray your father or this city.”

“I see…” Taking a step back, Huin lowered his hand to his sword. “Alzin. Please die for my father and this city.”

“Stay your hand!” Evelyn screamed from the other side of the table, seeing what was happening.

With a firm grip on his sword, Huin unleashed a burst of mana and slashed out at the man before him.

B3 Prologue – Rhul

With a smile on his face and eyes filled with admiration, a young boy silently watched the sky as a slow chant continued throughout the area.
A clod of gray clouds began forming in the horizon and the boy’s smile widened.

With another series of voices a gentle breeze swept past him from behind and the silken wheat fields before him began undulating in unison like a silver wave, glistening beautifully across the plains.
As the farmers initiated the final phase of their spells, he quietly observed as the dark cloud began expanding to encompass the farmlands.

“Come milord, it is time we returned.” One of the farmer’s called from behind, having finished their duty. “Wouldn’t want to catch another cold now, would you? Should that happen, your lord father would never allow you out here again.”

“It is okay, Gallas.” The young boy replied, grinning smartly as he turned to face the older man. “Big brother got this cloak for me last time he and father visited the capital.” He added, making a show of the beautiful black cloak around him. “See? I’m not even cold under here.”

“I see.” The man returned a heartwarming smile, having sensed the mana emanating from the cloak. “Don’t dawdle around for too long then.”

“I won’t, Gallas. I’ll be right behind you all.”
Turning back around, the young boy stood still and peacefully watched as light rainfall began drizzling onto the fields.

He had always enjoyed being out here around this time of the year.
With the swaying of the breeze and the light shower upon them, the fields were a beautiful silver.
Their hoary coloration was a testament of the care involved in growing them. To know that those who are under their care would not go hungry even with another year of heavy taxation, it was something to be proud of.

“To cultivate and cherish the land is to cherish one’s life. He who provides and cherishes the land, shall be provided for and cherished by the land.”
The young boy spoke, reciting the words that his father had always spoken whenever they were out amongst the common folks. “It is just as father said…”
It was not just a wheat field, but the very essence of life itself.

As the rain arrived and began drizzling onto him as well,
“Milord!”
Another voice called out to him.

“I’m coming!” He shouted back, not turning his gaze away from the mesmerizing fields.

“Your lord father summons you!” The voice cried out again, this time louder and closer.

Unsure as to what was so urgent, he finally turned around to spot one of the stable hands, a young man who was a few years older than himself.
“My father?”

“His lordship requests that you returned home right now. Something has happened.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” The stable hand lowered his head slightly. “But the mages have returned.”

The young boy’s eyes lit up. “Elder brother is back!” Filled with joy, he took one last look at the farmlands and hurried away.

The festive atmosphere he had been expecting upon returning home was nonexistent. In its place were grave and somber faces. Eyes filled with sympathy watched him as he rushed to the door of the manor.

“Father!” He called out upon arriving at his father’s small audience chamber. Dozens of others were already present, and he could hear the muffled sound of crying coming from within the crowd.

Pushing through, the family mages spotted him and slowly stepped aside to allow him to the center.

The boy quickly spotted his father kneeling on the ground. “Father?”
His prideful father who was always upright, always standing with shoulders wide and straight, was now kneeling and hunched over.
“Father, what is-” The boy stopped. His insides constricted within themselves and his legs wilted. “B-big brother?” The young boy’s vision suddenly blurred and the world darkened.

“Rhul!” His mother cried out, embracing him and catching the boy as he fell to the ground.

Laid out on the floor before them all, was the battered and lifeless corpse of a young man barely in his twenties. The young man was missing his left arm along with half of his upper torso, and his legs had been broken. Though his proud face was untouched, the young man’s silver hair was now bleached a dark bloody color and his head had been separated from his shoulders. He had been tortured and then executed.

B2 Epilogue

-Malpaar’s southern forest-

A large circular cavity stood within the midst of the forest’s dense canopy.
Different from the surrounding perimeter of tall trees darkly packed together, it was a lush meadow filled with vibrant brushes, flowers, and saplings.

An extensive circle of new growth, at its center was a large white sphere being engulfed by hundreds of thin vines.
From within the sphere, a soft light was pulsing rhythmically as if in tune with that of a beating heart.

“KrrRaauuuHH!!” Zirus roared, sending the vines that were encroaching upon its position writhing back down to the ground. With its wings already unfurled menacingly, it hissed at the creature beneath it.

“Guurrr!” A small feline frustratingly growled back, its coat shining brightly with an emerald green glow in the sunlight.
Lowering itself, the small cat agilely jumped upward and a vine thrashed out from its small body, whipping at the black serpent.

“KRAUUUU!” Zirus roared again, sending out a shock-wave and blasting the creature backward through the air.

Catching its landing, “Gurrr!” The small cat growled again, and mana began swirling around its body. Its green coat quickly turning darker and posturing itself, “GRAAAAAARRRR!” It roared.

The lush green meadow instantly blossomed into life as a field of grass exploded upward.