There’s no fair or unfair in battle.
( There is only victory or in your case, defeat. )
A storm was coming to the island of New Rhaegar.
It wasn’t an official name, at least not yet. There hadn’t been any official meetings about what the plan was for the island moving forward, as everyone was still well within the range of adapting to two races living there. There hadn’t been any issues between them but given the Rhaegarians being pulled from an entirely different universe and the Xocili tasting the first freedom in many years, the rush to establish any kind of operating government or future plan wasn’t considered top priority. Everyone was trying to feel out their own path. The only reason it had started to be called New Rhaegar was because, simply, the island hadn’t been given a name and simply calling it ‘the island’ was generic and lacking definition. It was a name that started with one person and eventually everyone on the island just began to address it as such.
But that was hardly the issue at the time. Nor was it anywhere near the forefront of Vandrad du Wolff’s mind. In fact, to say that his mind was nothing but a swirling vortex of unfathomable rage was most likely still putting it nicely. He’d held back the gates of his fury for as long as he could; long enough to do what had to be done and finally ridding the world of the infection once known as Thana. She had been hard to fully kill for good but frankly, that just gave the former prince opportunity to hurt her again and again and again. But it had done nothing to quell the storm within; if anything, it had just thrown tinder to the flames and erected an even larger blaze.
When he returned to New Rhaegar, he crashed down on the centralized areas by the docks. And it was evident to everyone in the surrounding area that something was wrong. The impact of his landing fractured the stone walkway beneath his feet and jagged veins spread out far and wide from the epicenter. Miraculously, the semi-crater managed to halt before it uprooted the ground beneath anyone’s feet, though several of them were forced to fall back a few steps to avoid tumbling over. All eyes were caught on the blistering blue blaze of magic that pulsed off of Vandrad, his aura taller and moving more wild than it ever had been. Even the island natives that were up near the top of the island would be able to look down the belly of the island and see the magical dispersal.
Vandrad rose to his feet fully, having landed in a half-crouch. His face was shadowed, despite the vibrant cobalt color that surrounded him on all sides. Once on his feet, he began to walk slowly forward. His feet did not carry the same weight as his landing, his steps leaving the already tousled ground from further damage, but there was an air about the way he moved. Everyone could feel it -- the oxygen all around them seemed to freeze in place, a tension so thick that no weapon or tool was strong enough to cut through it. All of the people had come to a dead stop, frozen in sheer awe and even partial terror at the blistering man as he walked up the street from the docks. No one knew his direction, the target that he was marching to, so all the people could do was stand and stare. Several managed to look away from the sight, if only to look down at where he had come from and see the flaming footprints left in his wake, blue blazes gently billowing where once feet had occupied.
It wasn’t until he came upon the house that his trajectory shifted. He turned to face the building, considering it for a long few beats. His aura seemed to grow in strength as he took in the sight, the magical dispersal gaining even more height. Within the flames, Vandrad’s hands curled into even tighter fists that he broke skin, blood pooling between the digits of his fingers. He moved forward again, his steps bringing him to the door of the home. And then in one swift movement, Vandrad’s arm pulled itself back and rushed forward.
There was no debris as the entire front of the house detonated. The former prince hit the surface with such power and strength that any fractals that should have rightfully blown inwards were instantly vaporized. To everyone watching, it was as if Vandrad had simply deleted the front portion of the building through sheer will and might. With the barrier between them gone, Vandrad’s head shifted just enough so that his gaze would set upon the target of his rage, the foundation of the impossible fury.
Khelban.
All at once, the aura that had grown to the size of a raging forest fire was pulled inwards towards its epicenter. Now no longer surrounded by the blaze, Vandrad stood with a cobalt outline around his entire body. His placement only lasted a second before he moved so quickly that the ground shook beneath him, the house and the street outside. In yet another swift movement, he had grabbed Khelban by the front of his shirt, hoisted him from his spot and lifted him. His path brought them to the inner wall of the home, a load bearing structure that was, most likely, the only thing keeping the house from collapsing in on itself. Khelban would find himself pinned against the wall with such force, the drywall bent inwards against his body. There was no escaping Vandrad’s grip, his face somehow still shadowed as it seemed to stare through Khelban’s body.
"I know what you did,” he finally spoke, his words surprisingly quiet but dreadful nonetheless. There was a venom in each spoken syllable that would have made any living creature shiver in fear. "I know what you did!” he repeated, his voice gaining volume enough that people outside would certainly hear him. "Do you know what you’ve done? Do you even comprehend the damage you have caused?”
Were Khelban to make any attempt to answer, he would find himself pushed harder against the wall, a physical movement to tell him one simple fact: this was not his place or time to speak. "I have allowed you to live on this island for the sake of your people, for the sake of your family. I thought I knew the worst of your crimes. I was wrong.” His grip on Khelban tightened as, finally, his head lifted and the shadows melted away. Cold, sharpened sapphires stared at the Xocili with a deep-seeded rage, shimmering brighter against the fresh tears that lingered against the corners of his eyes and gently ran down his cheeks. "How dare you!” he roared, his voice carrying strength enough to shake the ground once more. "How dare you even show your face here after what you’ve done. You insect! You filth! How dare you hurt her like that. Your own sister!”
Vandrad leaned in, his teeth grinding against one another as he bared them at Khelban. "You don’t deserve to live.” Every moment he spoke, every instant he spent looking at the face that had hurt Mercury, violated Mercury, only made him angrier. He had reined in his aura, collecting the loose expulsion of power so that it would house itself in his body, making him even stronger. This was not a man that came to threaten or terrify. No…
This was a man that had come to kill.
marzia at shine & gs.
