The Path Everwinding

It was going to be an interesting day, that much was certain.

Mythal found himself without any orders or paperwork that he needed to go over. He’d filed away all the reports for the day and he had nothing left on his schedule. He was left in his office, deciding what he should do. There was always the possibility of training; he could pretty quickly transport himself to Sin and do some martial work with the beasts of the land. If Aeron was around, it was possible she would come up and work out with him as well. While she didn’t get as much out of training as he did, she seemed to, at the very least, enjoy the company. That and Mythal was itching to get his hands on Darius’ gem and give him a piece of his mind. A lie of omission was still a lie and unfortunately the Director’s ability didn’t extend to information withheld. Darius had a connection to the Dread Masters and hadn’t revealed it, though Mythal hardly could blame him for keeping it mum. And he hadn’t exactly asked Darius about neither the Order nor the Masters.

But as he set himself to teleporting, something else caught his eye. He was just closing up the compartments to his desk when a dark, leather-bound book caught his attention. The padlock was still firmly in place on its metal seal. It was the book that he had snatched from Izrael, the Trumpet of Punishment, during their confrontation at Morgate Town. He’d managed to snatch it from her hands and hand it off to the Dark Guardian, removing what he had thought was a benefit to her. He’d kept it close by ever since then, sure that the Trumpets would make some kind of move to retrieve it. But months had passed since then and it remained still with him. Casting a glance towards his door, he pressed a button on the underside of his desk and locked down the room. Then he pulled the book out from its compartment and placed it on the top of his desk.

When they had returned after their raid and put Vriko in her cell, Mythal and Serilda had perused the book themselves. It was written in a scripture that neither of them could translate, a language that the Darkness King assumed was born in Kingdom Darkness. So even as he unlocked the padlock and swung the tome open, he didn’t expect to find anything new. Just as he’d predicted, the scripture remained on the pages but it was unreadable. His fingers traced over the sheet curiously. His thoughts returned to Darius and he couldn’t help but wonder if the archmage could be any help in deciphering what was written in the pages.

Normally he wouldn’t consider such a route but given the revelations shared from Chishan, Wanda, Vandrad and Victoria, it seemed that his long term goal had a major hiccup. He stated outloud that he’d be satisfied with Faera being locked away and unable to bother him or his world again but the truth was, he didn’t believe that was enough. Every step taken against her had proven to be ineffective in the long run and any affront against her only made her hungrier for vengeance and destruction. It wasn’t her fault; she’d sacrificed her freedom for the love of her siblings and had taken up a position within Kingdom Darkness, effectively murdering the woman she was. But from what he could tell, there was no sign of that caring goddess anymore -- there was only rage and darkness. She needed to be dealt with permanently.

And perhaps something from her own realm could be helpful. As much as Mythal denied being the Darkness King -- and he would never seek to take any kind of ruling position, as far as he was concerned -- there was little denying that he could manipulate the magic from Kingdom Darkness. Even as he thought it, darkness wrapped around his arm and hand, engulfing it in black and purple flames. Much to his surprise, the tome’s lettering began to glow. One by one, the symbols warped and changed into letters, which then became words he could read. He scoffed in shock; the key was his magic all along. The book needed to sense his connection to the dark realm and then it would open its content to him.

All of a sudden, a bright flash of light erupted in the room and Lux appeared, looking out of breath. “I found it!”

“What ya nearly found was yourself splattered on the wall, for gods’ sake, Lux,” Mythal yelled at the Seal. He had been surprised and nearly leapt back, spell ready to cast and launch itself at the intruder. He was experimenting with a book he knew nothing about and it had put him on edge in case something had happened.

“Calm down there, pal. We both know I’d just get up from whatever you-- hey, what are you doing there? the Lightbringer asked, pointing to the grimoire.

“I am apparently translatin’. This is the book Seri and I got from that Trumpet chick. It was all unintelligible until I started touchin’ it with my magic. Now it’s fixin’ the letterin’ and all,” the Director explained, gesturing to the page with his other hand. “What did you mean by ‘you found it’?”

“Huh? Oh right! I found your Christmas gift!” Lux announced proudly.

“Lux, it ain’t even fall yet. Why are ya lookin’ at gifts for Christmas already?”

“Not that, you idiot. I told you last Christmas that I had an idea of a gift but I hadn’t found it yet. I remembered something after I got some portion of magic back, you know, when you got that lacrima shoved in your chest.”

Mythal rolled his eyes. “Yes, I remember.”

Lux grinned. “Well it took a lot more reading than I usually enjoy but I found it.” With a snap of his fingers, Lux summoned a book and slammed it down on the desk right beside the other tome. It was another leather-bound book but it had seen far better days. The leather was cracked and torn and the paper looked about ready to crumble to dust. “I remember when I was created that there were also these other creations. Elemental constructs that embodied existence in its absolute natural form or whatever. Basically the remnants from the birth of the universe. Daddio didn’t want to keep them at home, in case the kids got wily and accidentally shot themselves in the foot or unmade the world. You know how parents are.”

Mythal sighed. “Your point, Lux?”

The Lightbringer’s grin only got wider. “How would you like to free us both from this mutually annoying partnership?”

That caught the Director’s attention, his brows raising. “What?”

“Each living being has a soul, that’s just how things were created. Even Vicky and me, we have a soul -- it just is like… adjusted to match up with the bloodlines that we have been cursed to. You’re kind of like genetic diseases that keep getting passed down through our existences.”

“I feel like that’s the other way around…”

Lux cut Mythal off. “Anyways, there is a one of these constructs here on Earthland. And it’s exactly the one we need too. The Soul stone.”

The Rune Knight blinked. “The… soul stone.”

“Yes! With its power, you’ll control one of the strongest elements ever created -- spirits! Souls! You’ll be able to morph and play with spirit energy as easily as you do darkness and whatever.”

Mythal began understanding what the Lightbringer was saying. “So you mean, with it…”

“You could separate us and Seri and Victoria. You could split all the Seals from their fleshbags.”

“Wouldn’t that go against your creator’s plan or whatever?” Mythal asked, concerned.

“Nah, he just put us in human bodies because that was more ironic and funny. Humanity being its own worst enemy; really rolls off the karmic tongue. If you use the Soul stone, you could put the Seals into their own bodies and we'd be separated from you. Granted, I still think we’d be attached to your bloodline or whatever but we’d be more like… I dunno, spiritual summons? I think that kind of magic exists.”

Mythal looked up at Lux for a moment before he looked down at the book in front of him. Lux had opened it directly to a journal entry and the Darkness King leaned down to look at it. “So you found someone who found it?”

“Oh yeah and you won’t believe who it was. Quentin Stridor!”

All Mythal could do was stare at the Seal, confusion clear and present on his face. “Who?”

“Quentin -- Are you serious? You’re the Director of the Rune Knights and you don’t know who Quentin Stridor is?!”

“Lux, maybe ya missed the part where I spent nearly thirty years either bein’ home schooled or travelin’ the land with no instruction or education. No, I don’t know who Quentin Stridor is. So elaborate.”

“Quentin Stridor was the first human gifted with magic. He was a Sage and a divine prophet for the one true God. He was handed the keys to the core of magic and was able to wield all elements as he saw fit. Dude was a certifiable genius in magic and theory and shit. He was practically a Seal himself, save for the whole ‘bettering humanity’ thing he did. But he loved his position too much and so its said that he used what he had been blessed with and chained his soul to the world, in hopes of continuing his work even after he died. Of course, because he did that, all of that godly power was stripped from but he would still have his knowledge. ‘Course no one has ever seen his spirit again so that last part is probably trash. But he was put in charge of protecting the Soul stone. And look here. He says…” And then Lux broke into a completely different language, one that was deep and lacking any familiarity to the Director. As Lux finished, Mythal only stared at him. “That’s ancient for “the stone of Soul. It must be where his old home is.”

“Alright but that ain’t much of a help. I ain’t even heard of the guy, let alone where he lived,” Mythal said with a shrug.

“Oh ye of little faith. I know where he lived. Yeah, Vicky and I ran into him once, long long ago when we both happened to be active. Like I said, guy was a genius. I’m pretty sure Vicky had a crush on him. Point is, I know where it is, we can go get it and then you can use it to finally free yourself and Serilda of us always being in your head. You’d get actual solitude. And with two new brats, wouldn’t it be nice to just be an actual family, without us Seals always hanging around?”

It was an enticing thought. While Mythal and Lux were certainly seeing eye to eye lately, there was still the very real threat that the Seals would turn on them. They were created for destruction and they seemed unwilling to break from their destined goal. While Mythal and Serilda had remained in control lately, the Voidwalker had been overtaken by the Seal of Conquest originally. There was no telling if or when that would happen again and what the devastating consequences would be.

Mythal looked up from the journal and at Lux again. “Okay, so where do we start then?”

Later that night, in the mountain village by the Phoenix Mountains, a woman was lugging her bundle of wood into town. She wore a white, monster-like mask, with cracks on the surface and painted red markings. A black gi, customized with red leather padding for pauldrons, hugged her form. A large red cumberband wrapped around her stomach, keeping the gi tight and closed. Red leather gauntlets covered her hands, hanging loose by her hips that were covered in a short, black frilled skirt. She wore black thigh-high boots, covered with a soft linen and bolstered by leather beneath. Hanging off her left hip, attached by a leather strap, was a massive box with several vertical holes carved into the top.

Vriko was doing very little to disguise herself but, then again, not many knew about this village in the first place. The people living within its borders were friendly but solitary and didn’t make much attempt to interact with the outside world. That suited her fine, though she could do with less pleasantries. Having others talk to her, wanting to get to know her… it was uncomfortable. It was relatively easy to make up stories and facts but she didn’t even want to be bothered to put that much effort in. Luckily they seemed to understand she wanted to be left alone and obliged her unasked request. It made things easier in the long run while she tried to figure out what the hell she could do.

Serethar was gone; the Trumpets had made sure of that. And while every blood-filled vein in her body cried out for her to take vengeance on them, she knew she didn’t stand a chance. She would be killed as pathetically as her fallen friend and in the end, what would that accomplish? Dastardly thoughts of trying to trick Mythal and his annoying fiance into going after the Trumpets drummed up in the back of her head but even then, she was confident in that. The two Rune Knights had humbled her, both in battle and out of it. Her own conflicted feelings, the hypocrisy of her self-imposed hatred for Mythal, still hurt like a festering wound. Why couldn’t she get past it? She had the freedom she had wanted, or at least a portion of it. Sure, the whole Faera-plot group was still alive but she was out now. She could just live in this village without issue and…

What then? What comes next? You’d want to ‘go about your own business’. Okay, that’s fair enough. So what goal, what desires, would fill the void of your vengeance being realized?

Vriko growled softly as the all-too-familiar voice of Serilda once again popped up in her head. Her mind had played it over and over and over again, torturing her with questions she’d never thought to ask, queries she’d never stopped to ponder. Even the very thought of lashing out at them -- any of them -- turned her stomach to poison. And yet just trying to move on with her life seemed to slowly constrict her throat. With a sigh, she opted to clear her mind for the time being and just get back to her house. The villagers had offered to let her stay in one of the abandoned cabins at the end of two. It wasn’t anything to gawk at but, then again, Vriko didn’t really know the difference between elaborate or mediocre. It had four walls, a roof and a bed that was more comfortable than anything else she’d slept on before. It was enough.

She opened the door to the home and immediately caught sight of a fire already roaring in the fireplace. Sitting in a torn and broken chair beside it was a large, buff man, with white hair and a white beard. In an instant Vriko dropped the wood from her hand and reached for her weapon box, prepared to yank out one of her blades.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down there, little lady. We don’t want to be causin’ any kind of commotion that we don’t need to,” the man spoke up, raising his hands up to show he wasn’t armed.

“You should have thought about that before you broke into my house!” Vriko hissed back, bringing forth a sword and bringing it forward in a ready position.

“To be fair, you left the door unlocked. And this is one of those towns where everyone walks into everyone else’s house without knockin’,” he explained.

“What, so, you’re one of the villagers?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve spent some time here, between missions. This house use’ta be mine as a kind of getaway place,” he said, glancing about the room. “Now I’ll tell ya who I am but ya gotta promise not to just attack without first talkin’ it out with me.”

“Idiot, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. I hear something I don’t like, I’m going to make you pay for it,” Vriko snapped back at him.

“Well that ain’t gonna inspire a whole lotta confidence. Plus doin’ so will draw attention, people will get hurt and then it may get the Rune Knights attention. I imagine ya don’t want that, right?” He spoke the words confidently, despite the fact that she was ready to strike him down.

Vriko snarled but her stance tightened in contemplation. He was right; if she caused any kind of scene, the villagers might react poorly. And if she was forced to have to kill them, it would start a trail. The worst part about the thought was that killing the villagers made her feel gross inside. After a moment of consideration, she eased up and lowered her sword, though she kept it in her hands. “Alright asshole. Who the hell are you?”

“Gren Ragnos. I’m Mythal’s adoptive father.”

Her rage returned and she took a few steps forward, pointing her sword directly at him. She bared her teeth at him as fury burned in her crimson gaze. “I fucking knew it. I knew he would find a way to track me. Is he on his way here now? Are you trying to distract me?!”

“Nope. Mythal ain’t got a clue where you are and I ain’t plannin’ no tellin’ him. I followed you for my own reasons,” Gren continued, his words still even and confident, despite the sword only a foot away from him.

“Yeah? And what reason is that?!” Vriko demanded.

“I want to help you.”

That took her by surprise, her face twisting in confusion. “Help me? Help me how?”

“I’d be happy to explain, if yer willin’ to put the sword down,” the former Knight said with a warm smile, gesturing to the weapon.

That was the absolute last thing she wanted to do. But something in the way he spoke, in the way he held himself, felt so assuring. His presence was unlike anything she’d ever felt before, an aura of calm about his entire figure. She somehow knew that he didn’t mean any harm and the fact that he’d been honest about who he was made her want to trust him, against her darker judgement. Once more she took a moment to consider before her arm dropped, bringing the sword along with it. She scoffed and slowly inserted it back into the case before walking back to the door and gathering up the wood she had dropped. She half-expected him to act, to lunge at her while her back was turned and maybe that’s why she had gone ahead and turned herself around. It was a test and as each second passed by without a sudden attack, it became obvious that Gren was a man of his word. Vriko turned back and walked over to the fireplace, dropping the wood in a pile next to it.

“So what’s your explanation?” she asked, leaning against the wall and facing Gren.

“Well, first off, I’ll come right out and tell ya that yer little darin’ escape there was planned. Mythal and Serilda orchestrated the whole thing.”

Vriko scowled and shook her head angrily. “I fucking knew it.”

“Seems like you knew a lotta things but still went along with ‘em,” Gren teased her gently. The glare he earned was enough proof that she wasn’t quite ready for that. “Anyways, they helped ya get out so that I could follow after you. Watch you from afar and observe if you got into anythin’... well, violent.”

“So what, I’m just a target to watch? That it?” she snapped at him.

Gren shook his head. “Somethin’ in what you said back in the prison. You want freedom and the chance to see what you can make of yourself.”

“I said whatever I could to get that bitch to shut up.”

“See, I don’t think that’s true. Else you woulda gone back to Morgate and picked up where you’d left off. And even then, you weren’t doin’ a whole lot. Lot of sittin’ around. Truth is, Vriko, yer lost in a world you don’t understand or know. Your prick of a father forged you into a weapon and your mother went right along with it. So what’s a weapon when there is not battle? They didn’t care to find out. But I do.”

Vriko scoffed once more. “You sound like Mythal and Serilda. Trying to find some glimmer of something where there is none. Maybe I’m just tired of being involved. Maybe I wanted to get away from all the bullshit and that’s it.”

Gren shrugged. “And why do you make that sound like some kind of rebellion? I ain’t blamin’ ya for wantin’ to get out -- neither are Mythal or Seri. You forget, he’s been involved in this bullshit longer than you have. The only difference is that fate robbed me of the chance to rescue you as well.” Gren sighed softly. “If I’d known that Faera would try again, I woulda done what I could to save ya. But I didn’t and that’s a badge a’ shame I have to bear.”

Vriko cracked an amused, wicked smirk. “What, you here to play daddy to me too? Make all my bad feelings go away?”

The former Knight chuckled. “Ah, it ain’t that easy. Plus yer not lookin’ for that. I know that you recently lost your only friend. And before ya go shoutin’ at me that he wasn’t your friend, stuff it. Whether ya want to admit it or not, he was your friend. Everythin’ you’ve ever said about him marks him as your friend and you do him disrespect by not givin’ him the due diligence he deserves.” It was surprising how he chastised her, his tone shifting only slightly to shut down her rebellious nature. Her mouth had opened to speak but hung, her words evaporating into air as he cut her down to size. “Right now, yer alone in the world. And I understand if that’s what you want but you gotta lot of empty spaces in ya. I want to help ya fill ‘em out. I ain’t here to push nothin’ on ya; I just want to offer advice if ya want it and insight if ya need it. I’ve been around the world many ‘a time and if there’s anyone that’s gonna help ya see it and figure out what ya want, I like to think I’m a suitable candidate.”

“And what makes you think I want any of that? I don’t need help, I am perfectly capable of finding my own path and forging my own destiny,” Vriko snapped at him.

“And I believe that. But it never hurts to have someone along for the ride. Besides, you’d be doin’ me a favor. My kids don’t really need me around that much, bein’ full adults and such. And frankly, I need a break from everythin’ involving Faera too. I just want go explore the world and who better than with someone experiencin’ it for the first time? I promise, if ya let me stay, I won’t ever tell Mythal or Serilda where yer at. I’ll let ‘em know yer okay and that’s it.”

Once again, Vriko wanted nothing more than to throw the man out on his ass and rip into him. Who did he think he was, making all these assumptions about her and himself? Just because he had been there for Mythal didn’t mean she needed anyone like that in her life. And yet, despite all of her angry thoughts, there was a part of her that was curious. Maybe, if she let him stay, she’d learn more about Mythal and Faera and the rest. In time, he may even provide information that she could use to better defend herself against the goddess. After all, she knew that he had been Faera’s favorite prisoner to torture in Kingdom Darkness. Whatever knowledge he had could greatly help her out -- knowledge about Faera, of course, nothing else.

She considered him for a moment before snorting and shaking her head.  “Whatever, old man. If you want to stay, you better bring something more than just wisdom and words. You better know how to cook as well,” she said dismissively, looking away from him.

The former Knight grinned. “Oh I think yer in for a surprise.”