I've been out there and seen the things she's made
That wasn’t quite the best statement, given how life was going at the moment. All at once, he had been thrown into a situation that had been both the best of his life and the worst. He’d been toiling with his emotions, since they had up and decided to take the form of love for Serilda. It had driven him to anger and fear; two emotions that don’t normally associate with such warm and flighty feelings. But it made sense to him at the time – as far as back he could remember, he had hated humans. They were chaotic, mindless, pain-gifting diseases that only brought ruin wherever they were. They had brought him into the world merely as a vessel; ready to sacrifice him for the greater glory to their own greeds. In truth, it hadn’t been entirely their fault as they had been led astray but that only proved that humans were even more unreliable.
But he’d found spots of light within the cesspool of humanity, igniting a hope that perhaps the race could be saved someday. Serilda had been one of those people and, against his better nature, he had been drawn to her. He had connected to her on a familiar level, rather quickly forging a friendship with the Voidwalker that bordered on something more, even if he would never admit it. Once his feelings came to full fruition, he had pushed her away in a sense – refusing to be intimate with her and keeping her at arm’s length. He fought against the waves of love and hate equally as he tried to sort himself out and figure out where he could go from there on out. In the end, it had been one of her lowest moments that had flicked the light on and made him aware of what he needed to do. He’d been cowering from his fear rather than facing it and attempting to overcome it. He’d allowed himself to become a victim to his own insecurities rather than stand indignant, like he did with so many other aspects of his life. In the wee, early morning hours he had decided to tell Serilda the truth of his feelings and figure his life out with her from there on out.
But Faera had other plans. She sent his father after him, convincing him that the world was going to end within hours of the conversation unless the God Slayer did something. With little time to process it all, he had made the choice to leave and face her, no matter the outcome. He’d left letters for the ones he cared about, tried and failed to convince Gren to stay back and then took off for the doorway. There he had run into his sister – yet another family member he hadn’t known about or expected to see at all. With his emotions pulling him every which way, he hadn’t fully prepared for such a personal fight and she had bested him. From there he had no recollection of what had happened, his memory a blank as he was knocked unconscious. But when he awoke, he had been taken into Faera’s home realm – the one called Kingdom Darkness.
From there, he had scratched and clawed and more notably punched his way out of his shackles and through the mobs of enemies before him. With Gren at his side, he managed to make it all the way to the door between worlds before finally being tracked down and cornered by Archimedes and his minions. When all seemed lost, a blessing had come in the form of Serilda, who had come crashing down with all the wrath a single person could have. She joined the battle, fighting his father tooth and nail and practically to a standstill. She’d even managed to get the upper hand more times than not. During the scuffle, Mythal had been swallowed up by one of the Archangel’s spells, bringing him completely into the presence of the realm’s darkness. It had been there that another version of himself, one that had lain dormant within him, had come forward and told him to fight. It had convinced him that the darkness that was attempting to overwhelm him was his to control, if he chose to make it his own. Kingdom Darkness’ magic was part of his blood after all, with Archimedes being his father. He had followed the specter’s words and given himself to the dark fully, letting in the element and mixing it with his own darkness. It had been enough to help Serilda defeat Archimedes and after that, they had made their hasty escape.
His normal magic, the one he had taken from Faera years ago, was still active and fine. He had tested it out once he returned, to ensure that he hadn’t badly damaged his magical core by taking in the rogue, foreign element, It had been fine and overall he was feeling healthy but still there was something… not quite right. He realized it after the first night back, when he began to feel slight tremors in his magical senses. They were all about him, like the wild pattering of rain upon a metal roof. He’d been exhausted enough that he was able to ignore it but the next day, he could feel the same thing – only less expansive. It was in certain areas, normally from buildings that were around him. It didn’t take him long to figure out that he was ‘feeling’ footsteps and movements from people and animals. But why? Had everything that had happened in Kingdom Darkness affected his senses? His five senses had been heightened upon his theft of Faera’s magic back when he was sixteen as well. He’d had a hard time adjusting to that, along with having just recently lost his adoptive father and home. He had turned to booze to drown out the pain and annoyance of the newfound awarenesses but even that only worked for a time. Eventually he was forced to go and seek alternate methods for his agony and had found himself upon the doorsteps of a monastery.
Ironic that he found himself there again. Mythal stood at the bottom of the long, winding staircase that led up to the compound he had called home for years. His eyes traced each step, platforms that were etched into his memory. The cool air swept down from the mountain far above the monastery, as it always had, bringing in an extra frost that seemed to pile on top of the snow every single winter and fall. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if he was trying to work himself up to heading up the steps. With another soft sigh, he finally found the courage to take the first step and head up the stairwell.
Mythal had come here along, though he hadn’t quite received a full blessing to do so. After his sudden disappearance into Kingdom Darkness, he was on very thin ice with Serilda about going off on his own. He had urged her to understand that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere dangerous – he just merely wanted to revisit his old home for a few hours. There wasn’t even a guarantee they would let him in; he hadn’t exactly left on the best of terms. The Midian monks were… good people, helping to raise him and teach him their ways. They had done a lot for him, assisting in his understanding and control of his magic. They had become like an extended family to him and had let him in on a lot of practices that normal outsiders weren’t allowed to take part in. Perhaps that’s why he had left – he had grown too close to them. It seemed he had a track record for pushing away when the going got too real for him. It was a bad habit and now, after everything, he sought to put a permanent end to it. It was only a matter of seeing if he could even be forgiven.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he was met by the two guards that always stood at the front gate. Two muscled, bald men that were near indistinguishable from one another. The twins Unra and Unda – two men around Mythal’s age that had grown up right beside him in training. It seemed they had taken the spots of the former guards, Taeku and Enera, who had bene the twins’ much older cousins. They immediately stiffened at the sight of the strange man, their eyes narrowing as they looked him up and down.
Mythal put his hands up in front of him, showing he meant no harm. “Relax guys… I ain’t here to cause trouble.”
“You’ve caused enough trouble in our lifetimes, Mythal Ragnos, without intent,” Unra spat at him, raising his head a few inches so he could look down his nose at the man.
[color=#dc0404]“Hey, all this hostility over some badly bruised memories over the years? You were never this snarky with me before, even after I kicked both your asses durin’ trainin’,” the God Slayer said with an awkward chuckle. “Is this just because I left?”
“It is for what you brought… or perhaps we should say wrought,” Unda said, snorting loudly through his nostrils. “What are you were for, Mythal? You are not welcome within.”
“Wrought?” Mythal asked suspiciously. “The hell are you two on about?”
“You bring danger to our monastery, you bring death to our family and friends… you are not welcome here!” Unra snapped, puffing out his chest and enunciating the restriction with more force. It seemed like they were ready to fight him right then and there.
But then another man came through the gate; a much smaller, older man. He was nearly half Mythal’s height and far scrawnier, with heavyset wrinkles in his face and his beard hanging nearly a foot off his chin. But he moved with an odd grace, one that befit his age and yet didn’t at the same time. It was almost like he was acting elderly for the sake of seeming such. “Enough, enough,” he barked at the two guards, his voice firm and unwavering in its authority. The two men lost their virulent steam and snapped to attention in the presence of one of their masters. The older man sighed and turned to set his gaze fully on Mythal, wise but troubled amber gems meeting the crimson rubies. “Mythal Ragnos. It has been near six years since you left us in such a… dramatic fashion.”
“Sneakin’ out in the middle of the night ain’t exactly dramatic,” Mythal said with a shrug. “Nice to see you too, Master Ren. Still as chipper as ever.” The God Slayer gave his former master a soft nod, acknowledging his position with the respect he deserved.
“And you, with your attempts at fully understood language skills,” Ren said, an impish smirk tugging on his face. He waved to the God Slayer as he began to turn. “Come, let us have some tea.”
“But Master Ren--!” Unra started, his head snapping to look at the elder man.
“He--!” Unda attempted to finish the thought.
“Silence!” Ren stopped them both with a single word and a firm tone. It silenced them in an instant, their rebellious fire quenched in a moment. With that he waved at Mythal again, who walked past the two men. They may have taken their stoic positions once more but he could feel the ire thrown at him from the corners of their eyes.
“What’s the deal, Master Ren? The twins were always pests but they ain’t never been that hostile. What did they mean by my ‘bringin’ danger here?” Mythal asked, after they had walked a bit away from the gate guards.
“A few weeks ago, a woman and a man appeared in our courtyard, right in the middle of our midday training. She wore a white mask and demanded to know your location,” Master Ren explained, tucking his hands behind his back.
“Shit… Vriko…” Mythal hissed, shaking his head.
“When we didn’t provide an answer suitable enough for her, she decided to attack the pupils. Masters Saed and Hanta moved into protect them and were, unfortunately, slain by her. She retreated before we were able to take her into custody. Interestingly enough, she used several different swords that reeked of the same magic that perverts your body,” the master said as he led him down a path through the front garden. It was away from the prying eyes of the rest of the monastery and, since Ren had a small patio set up within the gardens, it would serve for a good place to sit and chat. It was about time for the master to have his tea anyways. Mythal had timed his arrival appropriately.
And inappropriately, it seemed. “Saed and Hanta… shit, I’m sorry, Ren. If I had known…” He started.
The old master waved him off. “You departed from here long ago, child. They came here of their own volition, under ill-conceived knowledge. Assuming that we knew where you had gone after leaving here is absurd, at best. At worst, unintelligent.” Ren had always been one to say things and see things at face value.
“Still…” Mythal murmured, falling silent for a moment. “Apparently she’s my sister. Wants to kill me – who knew?” he said with a scoff.
“Well, you did always have a lovely way of bringing the best out of people,” Master Ren said with a quick snort. “It sounds like your situation has not improved since before you arrived all those years ago. Perhaps you should have never left?” He asked as they entered the small opening in the garden. A wooden table sat in the middle, with two chairs on either side. He gestured to one of them for Mythal as he took a seat in the other.
“Hah… maybe…” Mythal chuckled as he sat down in the offered chair, now directly across from the old master. “So everyone’s a bit on edge then.”
“There is some tension, yes. It’s been a long time since any of our masters or students have faced true enemies in combat and considering how dangerous this ‘Vriko’ was, I am surprised and impressed that we only lost two of our own.” As Ren spoke, he waved his hand in the air and brought forth a steaming metal port of tea, pulling the jug out from his pocket dimension. As he shimmered two cups on the table for the two of them, his eyes focused heavily on Mythal. “That’s not why you are here though – there is an aura about you that is different.”
“Yeah… about that…” And so Mythal spun his tale for the old master, going all the way back to the beginning. He’d never told any of the Midian monks of his past before he arrived, merely limiting his explanation to the knowledge that his father had died and he had no one else. But now he unraveled everything from his birth, Faera’s attempt on him in his teens and so on. By the end of it, he had drunk near two cups of tea. “So now that I’m back, I’ve been getting odd… sensations.”
Master Ren stroked his beard in thought, his eyes narrowed as he placed the pieces together in his mind. “It seems to me that this… Kingdom Darkness has taken root in your magical core. A seed planted in the soil of you, just waiting to be watered and bloomed. It is strange – your other magic is still dark and ominous but the one you speak of isn’t. It isn’t light, mind you, but it doesn’t feel as malevolent as your Fallen God Slaying magic. A strange attribute to be missing, since it hails from the realm this Faera comes from.”
“So you think I can access this magic outside of Kingdom Darkness? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“No more so than you using Faera’s own magic here as well. Magic is a living entity, Mythal – you must remember from my many teachings on the matter. It makes choices and attunes itself much like humans and animals do. It’s entirely possible you’ve become a beacon of darkness for this new magic but you aren’t composed of evil intent and, as such, your magic won’t be either. If I’m being honest, even your other magic has lost a lot of its taint, as it seems your training of it has made it more your own than that goddess’,” Ren mused as he took occasional sips of his tea.
Mythal thought that over for a moment. If he’d taken in Kingdom Darkness, as his other half had told him to do, did that mean he could access it just as easily as Archimedes had? And based on what Ren was saying, it seemed like it would be a different strain of it – much like how he had made the Fallen God Slaying magic more his than Faera’s. It made sense when he heard it from the monk rather than his own mental ramblings. “So I have to garden this new magic… I always had a black thumb,” Mythal joked.
“It seems such a thumb might come in handy in this case,” Ren quipped back, smirking.
“Any advice to help me?”
Ren continued to smile. “I may have a scroll or two that could help you with your spiritual conditioning. Yet another practice you found no joy in but with proper practice, you may be able to manipulate your magic as easily as you did within that other realm. Come – let us see what I have in the library.”
But he’d found spots of light within the cesspool of humanity, igniting a hope that perhaps the race could be saved someday. Serilda had been one of those people and, against his better nature, he had been drawn to her. He had connected to her on a familiar level, rather quickly forging a friendship with the Voidwalker that bordered on something more, even if he would never admit it. Once his feelings came to full fruition, he had pushed her away in a sense – refusing to be intimate with her and keeping her at arm’s length. He fought against the waves of love and hate equally as he tried to sort himself out and figure out where he could go from there on out. In the end, it had been one of her lowest moments that had flicked the light on and made him aware of what he needed to do. He’d been cowering from his fear rather than facing it and attempting to overcome it. He’d allowed himself to become a victim to his own insecurities rather than stand indignant, like he did with so many other aspects of his life. In the wee, early morning hours he had decided to tell Serilda the truth of his feelings and figure his life out with her from there on out.
But Faera had other plans. She sent his father after him, convincing him that the world was going to end within hours of the conversation unless the God Slayer did something. With little time to process it all, he had made the choice to leave and face her, no matter the outcome. He’d left letters for the ones he cared about, tried and failed to convince Gren to stay back and then took off for the doorway. There he had run into his sister – yet another family member he hadn’t known about or expected to see at all. With his emotions pulling him every which way, he hadn’t fully prepared for such a personal fight and she had bested him. From there he had no recollection of what had happened, his memory a blank as he was knocked unconscious. But when he awoke, he had been taken into Faera’s home realm – the one called Kingdom Darkness.
From there, he had scratched and clawed and more notably punched his way out of his shackles and through the mobs of enemies before him. With Gren at his side, he managed to make it all the way to the door between worlds before finally being tracked down and cornered by Archimedes and his minions. When all seemed lost, a blessing had come in the form of Serilda, who had come crashing down with all the wrath a single person could have. She joined the battle, fighting his father tooth and nail and practically to a standstill. She’d even managed to get the upper hand more times than not. During the scuffle, Mythal had been swallowed up by one of the Archangel’s spells, bringing him completely into the presence of the realm’s darkness. It had been there that another version of himself, one that had lain dormant within him, had come forward and told him to fight. It had convinced him that the darkness that was attempting to overwhelm him was his to control, if he chose to make it his own. Kingdom Darkness’ magic was part of his blood after all, with Archimedes being his father. He had followed the specter’s words and given himself to the dark fully, letting in the element and mixing it with his own darkness. It had been enough to help Serilda defeat Archimedes and after that, they had made their hasty escape.
His normal magic, the one he had taken from Faera years ago, was still active and fine. He had tested it out once he returned, to ensure that he hadn’t badly damaged his magical core by taking in the rogue, foreign element, It had been fine and overall he was feeling healthy but still there was something… not quite right. He realized it after the first night back, when he began to feel slight tremors in his magical senses. They were all about him, like the wild pattering of rain upon a metal roof. He’d been exhausted enough that he was able to ignore it but the next day, he could feel the same thing – only less expansive. It was in certain areas, normally from buildings that were around him. It didn’t take him long to figure out that he was ‘feeling’ footsteps and movements from people and animals. But why? Had everything that had happened in Kingdom Darkness affected his senses? His five senses had been heightened upon his theft of Faera’s magic back when he was sixteen as well. He’d had a hard time adjusting to that, along with having just recently lost his adoptive father and home. He had turned to booze to drown out the pain and annoyance of the newfound awarenesses but even that only worked for a time. Eventually he was forced to go and seek alternate methods for his agony and had found himself upon the doorsteps of a monastery.
Ironic that he found himself there again. Mythal stood at the bottom of the long, winding staircase that led up to the compound he had called home for years. His eyes traced each step, platforms that were etched into his memory. The cool air swept down from the mountain far above the monastery, as it always had, bringing in an extra frost that seemed to pile on top of the snow every single winter and fall. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if he was trying to work himself up to heading up the steps. With another soft sigh, he finally found the courage to take the first step and head up the stairwell.
Mythal had come here along, though he hadn’t quite received a full blessing to do so. After his sudden disappearance into Kingdom Darkness, he was on very thin ice with Serilda about going off on his own. He had urged her to understand that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere dangerous – he just merely wanted to revisit his old home for a few hours. There wasn’t even a guarantee they would let him in; he hadn’t exactly left on the best of terms. The Midian monks were… good people, helping to raise him and teach him their ways. They had done a lot for him, assisting in his understanding and control of his magic. They had become like an extended family to him and had let him in on a lot of practices that normal outsiders weren’t allowed to take part in. Perhaps that’s why he had left – he had grown too close to them. It seemed he had a track record for pushing away when the going got too real for him. It was a bad habit and now, after everything, he sought to put a permanent end to it. It was only a matter of seeing if he could even be forgiven.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he was met by the two guards that always stood at the front gate. Two muscled, bald men that were near indistinguishable from one another. The twins Unra and Unda – two men around Mythal’s age that had grown up right beside him in training. It seemed they had taken the spots of the former guards, Taeku and Enera, who had bene the twins’ much older cousins. They immediately stiffened at the sight of the strange man, their eyes narrowing as they looked him up and down.
Mythal put his hands up in front of him, showing he meant no harm. “Relax guys… I ain’t here to cause trouble.”
“You’ve caused enough trouble in our lifetimes, Mythal Ragnos, without intent,” Unra spat at him, raising his head a few inches so he could look down his nose at the man.
[color=#dc0404]“Hey, all this hostility over some badly bruised memories over the years? You were never this snarky with me before, even after I kicked both your asses durin’ trainin’,” the God Slayer said with an awkward chuckle. “Is this just because I left?”
“It is for what you brought… or perhaps we should say wrought,” Unda said, snorting loudly through his nostrils. “What are you were for, Mythal? You are not welcome within.”
“Wrought?” Mythal asked suspiciously. “The hell are you two on about?”
“You bring danger to our monastery, you bring death to our family and friends… you are not welcome here!” Unra snapped, puffing out his chest and enunciating the restriction with more force. It seemed like they were ready to fight him right then and there.
But then another man came through the gate; a much smaller, older man. He was nearly half Mythal’s height and far scrawnier, with heavyset wrinkles in his face and his beard hanging nearly a foot off his chin. But he moved with an odd grace, one that befit his age and yet didn’t at the same time. It was almost like he was acting elderly for the sake of seeming such. “Enough, enough,” he barked at the two guards, his voice firm and unwavering in its authority. The two men lost their virulent steam and snapped to attention in the presence of one of their masters. The older man sighed and turned to set his gaze fully on Mythal, wise but troubled amber gems meeting the crimson rubies. “Mythal Ragnos. It has been near six years since you left us in such a… dramatic fashion.”
“Sneakin’ out in the middle of the night ain’t exactly dramatic,” Mythal said with a shrug. “Nice to see you too, Master Ren. Still as chipper as ever.” The God Slayer gave his former master a soft nod, acknowledging his position with the respect he deserved.
“And you, with your attempts at fully understood language skills,” Ren said, an impish smirk tugging on his face. He waved to the God Slayer as he began to turn. “Come, let us have some tea.”
“But Master Ren--!” Unra started, his head snapping to look at the elder man.
“He--!” Unda attempted to finish the thought.
“Silence!” Ren stopped them both with a single word and a firm tone. It silenced them in an instant, their rebellious fire quenched in a moment. With that he waved at Mythal again, who walked past the two men. They may have taken their stoic positions once more but he could feel the ire thrown at him from the corners of their eyes.
“What’s the deal, Master Ren? The twins were always pests but they ain’t never been that hostile. What did they mean by my ‘bringin’ danger here?” Mythal asked, after they had walked a bit away from the gate guards.
“A few weeks ago, a woman and a man appeared in our courtyard, right in the middle of our midday training. She wore a white mask and demanded to know your location,” Master Ren explained, tucking his hands behind his back.
“Shit… Vriko…” Mythal hissed, shaking his head.
“When we didn’t provide an answer suitable enough for her, she decided to attack the pupils. Masters Saed and Hanta moved into protect them and were, unfortunately, slain by her. She retreated before we were able to take her into custody. Interestingly enough, she used several different swords that reeked of the same magic that perverts your body,” the master said as he led him down a path through the front garden. It was away from the prying eyes of the rest of the monastery and, since Ren had a small patio set up within the gardens, it would serve for a good place to sit and chat. It was about time for the master to have his tea anyways. Mythal had timed his arrival appropriately.
And inappropriately, it seemed. “Saed and Hanta… shit, I’m sorry, Ren. If I had known…” He started.
The old master waved him off. “You departed from here long ago, child. They came here of their own volition, under ill-conceived knowledge. Assuming that we knew where you had gone after leaving here is absurd, at best. At worst, unintelligent.” Ren had always been one to say things and see things at face value.
“Still…” Mythal murmured, falling silent for a moment. “Apparently she’s my sister. Wants to kill me – who knew?” he said with a scoff.
“Well, you did always have a lovely way of bringing the best out of people,” Master Ren said with a quick snort. “It sounds like your situation has not improved since before you arrived all those years ago. Perhaps you should have never left?” He asked as they entered the small opening in the garden. A wooden table sat in the middle, with two chairs on either side. He gestured to one of them for Mythal as he took a seat in the other.
“Hah… maybe…” Mythal chuckled as he sat down in the offered chair, now directly across from the old master. “So everyone’s a bit on edge then.”
“There is some tension, yes. It’s been a long time since any of our masters or students have faced true enemies in combat and considering how dangerous this ‘Vriko’ was, I am surprised and impressed that we only lost two of our own.” As Ren spoke, he waved his hand in the air and brought forth a steaming metal port of tea, pulling the jug out from his pocket dimension. As he shimmered two cups on the table for the two of them, his eyes focused heavily on Mythal. “That’s not why you are here though – there is an aura about you that is different.”
“Yeah… about that…” And so Mythal spun his tale for the old master, going all the way back to the beginning. He’d never told any of the Midian monks of his past before he arrived, merely limiting his explanation to the knowledge that his father had died and he had no one else. But now he unraveled everything from his birth, Faera’s attempt on him in his teens and so on. By the end of it, he had drunk near two cups of tea. “So now that I’m back, I’ve been getting odd… sensations.”
Master Ren stroked his beard in thought, his eyes narrowed as he placed the pieces together in his mind. “It seems to me that this… Kingdom Darkness has taken root in your magical core. A seed planted in the soil of you, just waiting to be watered and bloomed. It is strange – your other magic is still dark and ominous but the one you speak of isn’t. It isn’t light, mind you, but it doesn’t feel as malevolent as your Fallen God Slaying magic. A strange attribute to be missing, since it hails from the realm this Faera comes from.”
“So you think I can access this magic outside of Kingdom Darkness? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“No more so than you using Faera’s own magic here as well. Magic is a living entity, Mythal – you must remember from my many teachings on the matter. It makes choices and attunes itself much like humans and animals do. It’s entirely possible you’ve become a beacon of darkness for this new magic but you aren’t composed of evil intent and, as such, your magic won’t be either. If I’m being honest, even your other magic has lost a lot of its taint, as it seems your training of it has made it more your own than that goddess’,” Ren mused as he took occasional sips of his tea.
Mythal thought that over for a moment. If he’d taken in Kingdom Darkness, as his other half had told him to do, did that mean he could access it just as easily as Archimedes had? And based on what Ren was saying, it seemed like it would be a different strain of it – much like how he had made the Fallen God Slaying magic more his than Faera’s. It made sense when he heard it from the monk rather than his own mental ramblings. “So I have to garden this new magic… I always had a black thumb,” Mythal joked.
“It seems such a thumb might come in handy in this case,” Ren quipped back, smirking.
“Any advice to help me?”
Ren continued to smile. “I may have a scroll or two that could help you with your spiritual conditioning. Yet another practice you found no joy in but with proper practice, you may be able to manipulate your magic as easily as you did within that other realm. Come – let us see what I have in the library.”
| Phoenix Mountains | Rune Knights |
| 2948/2000 | |
Let me tell you, they are fear.
✿
