Coronation Craziness

“All hail King Vandrad!”


It was a complete and utter nightmare, at least in Vandrad’s terms. He knew that the coronation was going to be extravagant and over the top. Despite being its own nation with its own legislature and rules, Themesycia had made it very clear that the traditions of royalty would be the same as every other monarchy. Vandrad couldn’t simply sign a paper, receive his crown and have some official decree make him king in the privacy of a small gathered party. No, it had to be a full coronation that included the entirety of  New Rhaegar. The entire island had been decorated for the event, officially named Independence Day, which was made even worse by the fact that it had been set for his birthday of all things. He was painfully aware that Themesycia had planned it that way, probably the entirety of the governing body was in on the joke and nothing he could say could convince them to move it to another day. They knew right well what they were doing and it seemed he had no say, despite his future position.

It had been as gauche and vibrant as he expected. The entirety of the populace couldn’t fit on the manor’s lawn so lacrivision cameras and screens had been set up all over town to broadcast the event to everyone. Given that New Rhaegar didn’t have an official religion, they couldn’t have a minister perform the ceremony so Themesycia had taken it upon herself to act as the official dignitary. The newly crowned king was dressed to impress and was given his crown and scepter to signify him as the ruling monarch. And then by official decree, announced to the island over, Vandrad was pronounced as king of New Rhaegar. The cheers echoed all over the new nation so loud that it was as if the entire population was gathered around him.

Afterward, as to be expected, there was a party. New Rhaegar was an official nation and they had their ruler so it was high time they citizens celebrated. The island was alight with events, filled to the brim with alcohol, food and entertainment. While the rest of the nation enjoyed their own version of celebrating, Themesycia had prepared a special hall just for the occasion. Everance had used her magic to craft a ball room in the undercropping attached to the manor’s underground. Given that they would need to entertain dignitaries from all over, it made sense that they have a room specifically for balls and galas. It was about as precocious as they could come, with massive chandeliers and chairs covered in flaked gold. Usually Vandrad would have put up some kind of resistance but… well, it was a big deal, he supposed. So he simply allowed it to happen.

When he entered with Mercury, the entire room stopped and applauded. Fighting back the growing blush and scowl combination on his face, he finished his entrance as he walked up to his mother and father. “Congratulations again, your highness,” she said, giving him a bow of her head out of respect before embracing him in a hug. Themesycia had gone risque with her outfit, putting herself in a sleek black and red dress that did everything to show off her chest. A hood was attached to the top, gently saddled to the top of her head but pulled back enough to show off her intricate makeup, ruby-studded earrings and silver necklace-choker.

"There’s no need for the posturing,” Vandrad grumbled.

“Pretty sure that crown, scepter an’ title say otherwise,” Gren teased him as he stepped in to hug his son as well. Unlike Themesycia, Gren had gone for one of his usual formal suits, though they still hugged his body tight enough to show off his impressive physique. “How ya feelin’?”

"Like a peacock on display,” Vandrad said with a sigh.

“Well you still have a lot of struttin’ to do, your highness. But first let’s get ya some food and check in with everyone else.”

Clearly Vriko wasn’t planning on joining the rest of them, happy to be in her own little corner. The most upbeat thing she did was to give Saffron a wry smirk at her gesture before turning her gaze askance, leaving them to be joined by Agatha and Ruzatz. The married guild masters were drop dead gorgeous, as they always were, even to a man like Vandrad. There was no denying Ruzatz’ impeccable ability to dress himself like a spectacle and Agatha could probably get away with wearing hospital dressing and still make an impression. She leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek and unlike Serilda and Mythal who would put on a master class of discretion a moment later, the newly crowned king couldn’t fight the blush that invaded his cheeks. "Thank you…” he said, trying to divert attention by slightly looking away.

Of course, Vandrad picked up on the slight rise in both Mythal and Serilda, though it was so small that hardly anyone else would probably notice. It was the slightest fluttering, like if one was close to someone they had a crush on. But he remained silent on the matter, understanding the steep ramifications that would come if their tryst came to light -- especially at the hands of his own fiance. The married guildmasters spoke of the magically-crafted room and inquired about its use as a wedding reception area. Mercury explained that, while possible, they hadn’t been putting as much focus on the engagement, given everything else that had been happening. After they had finished up their minimal snacks, they were off again. They passed by Zemenar and Khelben, who had circled around Vriko and were seemingly the only two that she allowed near her, though she did seem a bit unsteady. They spoke to Dinah as well, who had been invited as a part of their continued discussions on an official alliance. On and on they went, making the rounds to different people and Vandrad having to suffer through congratulatory comments over and over again.

Eventually, the banquet was signaled to start, giving him a reprieve from the comments and attention -- for a time. It was only a temporary stay; eventually he would have to be up and dancing and mingling again. So he took his sweet time cutting into the meat and eating it, drawing out the meal as much as possible. The one benefit was that no one could proceed without his say so, meaning he could delay as much as he physically could. Serilda and Mercury talked about the food, a delicacy that had long been a treasured recipe of the du Wolff family. The Silver Wolf mage teased him about a birthday cake as well, Vandrad shooting her a look and a slight scowl. He should have known better than to assume they would have just focused on the coronation.

Agatha came to his defense, partially. It was all in good jest for the most part but that wasn’t going to slow Mercury down. Oh no, she went on about the dancing that was quickly approaching and whatever else Themmy had managed to dream up for the celebration. "If I knew becoming a king would require this much pomp, I would have turned the offer down,” he remarked dismally.

“Oh please, you were a noble in Bellum. You absolutely knew what to expect. It’s probably why you delayed so long in agreeing to it,” Cedric teased him with a grin.

Vandrad fixed him with a narrowed gaze. "And how would you know anything about that?”

“Mostly assuming. But your mother and I talk, occasionally. She tells me stories,” the Dread Master said with a shrug. He went back to eating, ignoring the hardened stare that Vandrad was drilling through him. Whether he was joking about it or not seemed impossible to tell, especially because Mythal was too busy eating and trying not to laugh.

The decision had been made for Jareth rather than including him and, being the proper servant of his master that he was, he was quick to point out that only Mythal and Serilda had been invited. His tone held finality, as if he’d stamped out any attempt to bend the rules, though it wasn’t rude or biting. It was proper etiquette when it came to following one’s line of command, something Vandrad had seen plenty of times before. However, he had no intention of letting the matter go or simply accepting dismissal if it came to it. Luckily, he’d already sensed that it wouldn’t be an issue and his assumption paid off when Serilda spoke up, vouching for their abilities and willing to stand on their behalf before Ozorith. The demon took a moment to look at her, turning the thought over, before he agreed, extending his arm for everyone to touch. Once they all had placed their hands, his magic would whisk them away to Ozorith’s realm, the biting cold as treacherous as the wintery air on the island.

They would only need to partake in a short walk before arriving at a set of double doors that led them into a frozen war room, complete with a map table in the center of the room. It was as elaborate as one would expect from the tales and stories they’d heard about Ozorith. Standing on one side of the table was a man with pushed back brown hair, looking over the vast display of the country. Beyond him were four other mightily different beings, ranging in size, shape and color but all radiating a similar energy. Vandrad’s control over the rage that built up from the Ark had been extraordinarily increased thanks to Victoria, allowing him to conceal the fury before it grew out of control. But he could still sense the effects, enough to know that they were looking upon Jareth and what had to be his Omens. Of course the Prime Sin’s eyes fell on the two uninvited guests first, demanding an answer from Jareth over their inclusion, only for Serilda to speak up and introduce them properly.

Of course, she was brilliant enough to keep some of the more important information from him. Namely, Cedric’s former position. Such an announcement may have caused uncontrollable waves that would have derailed the entire point of the meeting. Ozorith, of course, insisting that pulling in people from the bench without proof of worth seemed foolhardy, given the weight of the task. Serilda, once again, spoke up on their behalf, offering evidence of Vandrad’s abilities while backing both of their potential to offer assistance. As she saw it, dealing with Shepard meant they needed all of their resources at the ready. It was enough to assuage Ozorith’s concerns, if only slightly, though his tone and choice of words didn’t impose much confidence. Mythal sneered and took a half-step forward, already ready to start swinging at the assumption the Prime Sin could talk down to his fiance.

It was Ruzatz who laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave a shake of his head when Mythal turned to look. It wasn’t worth the effort; it would be a fight that went nowhere and Ozorith would, at best, rebuff his anger with disinterest. The Director scoffed in annoyance but breathed outwards to let his annoyance out, focusing it elsewhere at the moment. With that out of the way, Ozorith began the meeting by explaining that his other Omen Oblivion, also known as Ryori, had detected a surge of magical energy matching Shepard’s signature in three different areas. He pointed out the three spots, far and spread apart from one another, and only released on a minimal level. But it had been almost simultaneous and was already beginning to decay beyond reading, only allowing her the opportunity to investigate one spot rather than all three.

Agatha wondered if it was a trap and Ozorith admitted it was possible, all things considered. It could be an attempt to split forces and take down a few of them, thereby weakening their cause. But given that the energy was so minute, it would have been a remarkably unintelligent plan, as it wouldn’t have drawn enough attention. Nonetheless, they lacked the foresight to know anything further and, as Serilda put it, it may just require them to go and spring the traps to verify. But she was curious why he had wasted precious time to summon them, when the window of opportunity was quickly fading. As he put it, they needed all of their advantages if they were going to deal with Shepard. He believed his Omens could handle anything put in front of them but the Trumpet was something else entirely. Plus Shepard knew how to twist a situation to his benefit and how to avoid fights he knew he couldn’t win. Including mortals and Omens together offered them the opportunity to force his belief into catching weakened prey.

It made sense, Vandrad had to admit. A well thought out one that could very easily work. He wanted to create two separate task forces, tying two of them with one of the Omens so that they had a mixed party. With any luck, it would provide the perfect honeytrap for the Trumpet and force him on the attack. Ozorith leveled his gaze with Mythal, asking if they should attempt to take Shepard alive, given that he had once paraded as Branwen. Whether that had been all an act or if the real Branwen was in there was still up for debate. “Yes, take him alive. I need to confirm if it’s Shepard wearin’ Branwen to the prom or if it was all fake from the beginning. I’ll be able to do that if I get a minute with ‘im,” Mythal said, crossing his arms. “Alright, two teams then. What did you have in mind?”

It seemed, if Vandrad and Cedric hadn’t come along, Mythal and Serilda would have been split up and paired with the Omens separately and Ozorith hadn’t been too excited about that. He was worried about them becoming overwhelmed by the sheer might of Shepard’s abilities. But now that the other two had stolen along for the ride, it seemed he could keep the pairing together, unless an alternative was suggested. Serilda nodded in agreement and explained that Vandrad and Cedric should stick together, given their history of fighting together, just like her and Mythal did. The shit-eating grin that the former Dread Master gave the newly crowned king was bright and cheery, earning a rolling of the eyes from Vandrad even as Ozorith set about assigning his Omens to the two pairs of humans. Jareth would be accompanying Mythal and Serilda and the two Ark users would be paired with Eden. Vandrad sensed the slight flutter of the Voidwalker’s emotions as the mention of the woman, his eyes flicking to her briefly before turning to stare at the demon. Though she seemed proper at that very moment, even he could hardly deny the stirring within the Ark as his gaze lingered on her.

Ozorith explained that both of them were the strongest under Ryori and, assumingly, himself and could provide the proper aid if they were to come across Shepard. Serilda armed herself with her swords, with Mythal sighing as he checked to ensure his weaponry was all accounted for. Unfortunately he had learned that he should always keep his weapons on him, even at events that shouldn’t call for it. There had been too many times where he’d been underprepared because there had been no expectation of conflict. Vandrad reached up to his ear and pressed a small mechanical patch behind it, activating the visor that formed out and over his eyes. As the system booted up, Jareth approached Mythal and Serilda and offered his arm. Just before they left, Serilda asked that they be careful, with both men giving her a nod of affirmation before she and Mythal disappeared.

Eden then stepped up and crafted her own form of transportation; an impressively crafted mirror of ice that looked more mirror-esque than anything else. It really was quite the sight that was ruined almost immediately by the woman’s snark, Vandrad’s eyes narrowing slightly. He felt a rumble of excitement and thrill rip through Cedric, the former Dread Master barely suppressing his own smirk as he waited only a beat for the Omen to step through the portal before following after. Vandrad took a moment to look back towards Ruzatz and Agatha, the other Prime Sin giving him an assured nod. Then he, too, passed through into the frozen valley of the glaciers.

The sun was already beginning to set when they emerged into the snow-filled valley. Vandrad took a moment to glance around, the system of his scanner catching up to the various locations he’d been in a short amount of time. Eden looked… amused, for some reason as she stared at them before dismissively insisting that they keep pace with her, as she had no need to ferry around ‘useless humans’. Vandrad could practically hear the manic grin on Cedric’s face. “You hear that, Vandrad? The infernal is worried about us being useless,” the former Dread Master remarked with a chuckle, his tone just as arrogant and condescending as her own. After a moment, she directed them towards the source of Shepard’s energy and led the way, taking to the skies relatively easily. Each man followed after, Vandrad crossing his arms over his chest as their magics lifted them up and puppeted them through the air.

“So, infernal,” Cedric spoke up, the word as hateful as her use of mortals and humans. “Your boss Oz really cut you down to size, didn’t he? No chance against Shepard yet somehow still one of his strongest? It doesn’t really inspire much confidence. Then again, everything I’ve heard about this Ryori seems to tell of a true force of nature. It’s just so sad to see you wearing the bronze in the line up.”

Whether she was willing to admit it or not, something had been touched. If she really didn’t care about their opinions or their thoughts, she would have simply remained silent, content to let them bark at an empty void. But oh no, this Eden felt the absolute need to speak up and insist that their words meant nothing to her, remarking that Cedric’s attempts to bother her hadn’t landed at all. Turning her smug gaze just enough to look over her shoulder at them, she offered Cedric the chance to fight Shepard on his own if he felt so inclined, estimating it would only take seconds for the Trumpet to wipe the floor with him. As far as she saw it, it was the absolute least he would deserve for getting involved in matters that were far beyond their comprehension. Shepard, for her, was worthy of her time, though she sidetracked to curse out Oblivion, insisting that she be put down by Ozorith. And she connected her to them as mortals, generalizing them as scum not worthy of time or attention.

As Cedric chuckled in amusement, it was Vandrad that spoke up, a dismissive sound escaping his mouth. "Tsk,” he scoffed. "This gibbering oaf never said anything about Shepard being weak. He just simply implied that you’re weak, your arrogant sow.” He was doing his best to remain as neutral as possible, considering the weight of the situation. But this Eden was pushing his buttons, portraying herself as something superior to them like she wasn’t going to get the words shoved back down her throat. Her views were about as racist as they could come and the newly crowned king did not take kindly to being referred to as shit. Memories attempted to surface in his mind, flashes of a past he often kept buried behind steel-thick walls. He shook them away even as Cedric’s laughter got louder.

“Oh now you’ve gone and ticked Vandrad off too. That’s usually the last thing his enemies ever get to see,” the former Dread Master said with a grin. “And what about that bravo little speech was supposed to make me believe that the ‘chirping of insects means very little to me’? It certainly sounds like this particular insect caught you monologuing. And I hate to break it to you, infernal, but I understand more about these forces than you do. Far more.”

The same manic, maddened look showed on his face, as if a wild bloodlust was just praying to break through the minimal defenses Cedric had. “Besides, look who's talking. I’m a demon so I hate humanity because they’re beneath me. Did you pick up a dictionary, look up the words ‘generic demon’ and base your entire personality on it? My Gods, the rest of them had more personality in their looks than you have in your entire body. And honey, I hate to tell you, but that comment about Oblivion? Jealousy never looks good on anyone. Don’t worry, I’m sure daddy Ozzie loves you just as much as he does his human.”

Vandrad glanced over at Cedric. There was no denying that Cedric was, quite clearly, trying to start something here. But at what cost? Fighting Eden would only draw attention to them if Shepard was in the area. It seemed the former Dread Master cared very little for that, his desire for violence outweighing his usual calm, composed self. Yet he knew he couldn’t say anything; trying to cool him off would simply give Eden more ammo that would, inevitably, piss Vandrad off as well. All he could hope was that the very thin line of alliance would hold out long enough for them to verify if the Trumpet was near them or not.

And if he wasn’t… well, the icy wasteland was probably going to get even more wasted.

Vandrad saw no reason to correct her belief that they were weak. In fact, he wasn’t even going as far as to believe that Eden was weak; Ozorith claimed she was one of his strongest Omens and that had to carry some weight, in spite of everything. But the arrogance that came from it, the brash attitude that made her think she could look down her nose at them like they were nothing, was unforgivable and deplorable. Let her believe what she wanted; if things kept on the way they were, she was going to find out firsthand just how powerful the two of them were. She wasn’t moved by assertions or threats, almost bored with the comments made her way, though she was quick to point out that their rebellious words were just as original as her demeanor. Though Vandrad felt the comparison was… less than viable as a witty retort, trying to play upon the ever impending doom that was mortality. As if the two of them weren’t painfully and personally acquainted with death’s door.

But that was neither here nor there. After a moment, she changed her tune slightly. She pointed out that the two of them were different from other mortals, though it didn’t seem like it was going to be along any complimentary path. She nodded to Vandrad first, remarking that he had something akin to a divine spark, which wasn’t entirely untrue. The more comparisons that they made to the immortals of the world and the Rhaegarians found a lot of parallels, namely their longevity and special abilities. Vandrad himself may not have called it ‘divinity’ but everyone had their own way of viewing it. It was when she turned her attention to Cedric that the crowned king could feel a special kind of dark amusement rising up in the demoness. She saw him as something special, made up of something that she couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t a compliment; as she saw it, it made him even less than human, a mashed up plaything pretending to be a mortal to try and fit in. As she put it, an imposter.

That got Vandrad’s blood to boil. He would be the first to stand in line and comment on Cedric for a lot of different reasons, always happy to bring down his playful, too-cheerful demeanor. But he understood the peril and pain that the former Dread Master had gone through at the hands of the organization they’d almost completely crumbled. The mental, physical and emotional abuse that had stunted him, broke a part of him inside that he’d spent a long time trying to remedy. It was only in the connections he’d made with himself and the others around him that had started to pull him out of the shadows and into a place where he could discover himself. And this bitch had the audacity to try and bring all that down, to crush a still swelling sense of self with her sharp words. Vandrad’s lip twitched, tension spreading to his neck as already he was forming his next move, the first attack.

It was Cedric’s own hand that brought him to a stop, held out to catch his gaze. It was a quiet gesture asking for him to calm down and not to jump to any rash conclusions. Vandrad looked over at the former Dread Master, whose attention was still solely focused on the Omen just partially in front of them with cruel amusement on his face. “Trust me, sweetheart; there’s only one of me,” he said simply as he chuckled. “Now be a good hellhound and sniff out Shepard for us. Then we can run back to your master and he can give you the head pet you clearly so desperately need to try and be relevant.”

Cedric was happy to let her think she had won. If only because starting a fight, mid-flight, while trying to also focus on the task at hand was more complicated than they really needed to deal with at the moment. Easier to just show like he had nothing else to say and let her relish in her self-believed victory. He calmly held his hand in place until he was sure Vandrad wasn’t going to do anything rash and then let himself return to his form, satisfied to fly in silence in the meantime while Vandrad fumed and Eden patted herself on the back, mostly because she didn’t have anyone else there to do it. They would only be flying for a few moments longer before the Omen came to an abrupt stop, pointing down to the mountains. Below them, the mouth of the cave yawned open against the cliff face, barely distinguishable against the oncoming darkness of night. The three dipped down and landed just outside the hole, with the Omen activating her magic to create a flurry of snowflakes that somehow carried light in them, illuminating their path.

Vandrad moved in behind Eden as she led the way, putting himself between the former Dread Master and the Omen. They wouldn’t have to walk long before they entered a much larger cave, Eden’s magical snow filling the room enough to fully map the cavern in light. It was a dead end, from the look of it; no other crevices or paths curved off beyond the one they had come in. Eden spoke up, instructing them to look around and investigate for any signs of Shepard or what he may have been looking into. Her tone wasn’t as sharp as it was before, mostly because they were now on site for their investigation. Vandrad and Cedric went about looking, not bothering to acknowledge the command and simply following their own means of looking about. She explained that she was going to try and focus on finding out anything about the energy and attuned her senses to it, focusing on it with her eyes closed.

Unfortunately, there was nothing left or sticking out for either of the men. Vandrad had plenty of experience having to look for tracks and evidence and that was pretty much Cedric’s main operation with the Dread Masters. They each took their time looking about, though there really wasn’t much to look at. It was essentially an abandoned cave, left to the raw power of nature without a hint of civilization. Why Shepard had opted to use his power here was beyond understanding and comprehension. Vandrad came to a stop after doing his full circle, scowling in annoyance. A fool’s errand it seemed. Eden spoke up, cursing Shepard’s wiliness and stating that whatever he had done hadn’t had enough impact to leave any kind of impression. “Senseless to appear in a place and use your magic like a telegraph. It would seemingly be to split forces up so as to snap closed a trap but…” Well, he supposed they wouldn’t know until the other two investigating parties voiced in. He imagined if things went south quickly, Ozorith would be letting Eden know that they were needed as back up.

Not that they needed to wait around in some dank, icy cave to be recalled. “Dead end it is. And here I was hoping to see if you really live up to everything your pompous master made you out to be,” Cedric remarked with a shrug, already looking towards the exit with purpose.

In truth, this was exactly what Cedric was hoping would happen. Of course, Vandrad wasn’t fully privy of that -- he understood that the former Dread Master was pushing buttons but he didn’t think that Eden or Cedric would, truly, be as stupid as to attack one another. Though that wasn’t saying much, considering how ready for a fight he was only minutes ago when they were flying. Still, it made no advantageous sense. Yet even as Cedric remarked that they wouldn’t get a chance to see all of the build up of her dangerous abilities, black ice materialized into existence in their path, locking them out of the only way out of the cave. Vandrad narrowed his gaze as it flicked to Eden, smirking in pride of herself as she questioned why they thought they weren’t getting a display. The already frigid air seemed to drop down even more degrees, making it substantially colder.

She admitted that their -- namely Cedric’s -- attempts to bait her had been obvious, if not wildly reaching. But given that she wasn’t going to get a chance to use her abilities against Shepard, someone she considered worthy, her only options seemed to be the two men. Equating them to an appetizer more than a meal, she lamented that she wouldn’t be fully fed but admitted that as long as she had food, she would be satisfied. Her sword pulled out from its scabbard, the metal scraping echoing off the icy chamber they were sealed in. She looked as manic as one could be as she giggled and insisted that they stay alive long enough to work out her excitement. "You’re making a mistake,” Vandrad snapped, his legs shifting slightly into a defensive position.

“Then let her make it!” Cedric snapped at the king, a thoroughly amused grin on his face. Already tendrils of his magic were beginning to surge up into the air around him. “Monarch only,” he said just as the torrential wind ripped into existence, further trapping them in a hurricane of snow and frost. In one swift movement, Cedric ascended to his Rose Grade Empowerment, chuckling as magic fueled itself onto his hand in the form of a blade.

Vandrad snorted in annoyance. This was not going to end well. His magic wrapped around him, enshrouding him in Cobalt Grade as layers of magic formed over his limbs. Eden brought up her hand and summoned a storm of icicles, sharp and pointed directly at them. With a casual move of her hand, she sent the torrent at both of them, the sheer number daunting, especially for the size of the cavern. Vandrad threw up both hands in front of him and funneled his magic into his defensive barrier, causing the icicles to shatter against him. Monarch only, he’d said. So Cedric wasn’t wanting them to use the Ark against the Omen, despite the obvious advantage it would give them. For what purpose could that be? He grit his teeth as several icicles managed to breach his barrier enough to impale his leg and arms, though not very deep.

Cedric swung his bladed hand wildly as he cut the incoming icicles to icy shrapnel that clattered against the wall behind him. He was laughing the entire time, the sound only ending when the threatening assault had come to an end. “Expansion,” he said softly, pressing his hand against the ground briefly. He used that touch to launch himself forward, a blaze of pink magic surrounding him as he came down onto Eden with his sword hand, swinging several times at her.

Vandrad pulled the icicles from his arms and leg, crushing them in his fist as his wounds already began to heal. He raised his hand up in a fist aimed towards Eden and from his wrist, a cylinder of pressurized air shot out. At the same instance it had left his hand, he was already reappearing behind her, the same fist now cocked and ready as it came soaring up towards the back of her head.

Of course she had to have wings. Vandrad thought he may have had a slight advantage by taking her off guard but she sprouted wings and managed to block not only the compressed wind blast but the punch that came in after. Luckily he had grounded himself so when it kept coming in, attempting to knock him away, it only took a small surge of magic into his feet to keep himself from moving too far. Ethernano flowed into his fists as he took up a brawler position, coming at her from the opposite side of Cedric. The demoness remarked about the former Dread Master’s supposed knowledge, insinuating that she wasn’t impressed yet with what he was bringing to her, as she was only just warming up.

She’d come back even stronger, even faster and both Vandrad and Cedric rose to meet her on even ground, pushing themselves closer to their limits. The three traded strikes clashing into defenses, a flurry of violent action that echoed all around them in the hollow frozen chamber. After several minutes of deadeven combat, she insisted that she was going to push the fight to the next level. She snapped and suddenly the cave, that had been icy but naturally so, was suddenly altered to be made up of clean, prismatic mirrors of ice. Both Vandrad and Cedric took a second to look at their surroundings, pulling themselves back as she seemingly disappeared into the icy sheets. The rush of magic caught both of their attention as a frozen beam of shrapnel exploded out from one of the mirrors, forcing the two men to jump out of the way. It should have crashed down but instead it was reflected, soaring over to a different mirror and picking up speed.

Now forced on the defensive, Cedric and Vandrad went on the move, zipping around the room with their magic to pick up the ever-increasing speed of the vicious ray. There were a few times that it almost caught one of them, forcing them to have to readjust and make a landing that was anything but pretty. "This is getting annoying!” Vandrad barked as he back flipped out of the way and then disappeared, only to reappear in the middle of the room. Cedric quickly dodged the beam and did the same, finding up back to back with Vandrad. Both men wrapped their auras around them, pulling the energy in close and tight before they pushed it outwards. The mixture of colorful magic would erupt outwards in a dome of destructive power, vaporizing the rain for the most part, though a few shards managed to slice into Cedric’s lower limbs. They also pressed their energies up against the icy mirrors, holding the dome at its full capacity for several seconds before finally letting it disperse, leaving the room far warmer and smokier than it was before.

Vandrad and Cedric landed on the ground, Vandrad managing to do it with grace while Cedric was forced to catch himself. Blood was oozing out of the wounds on his legs and it seemed her damned magic wasn’t allowing the wounds to heal right away. Still he rose to his feet, a pained but still bloodlusted smirk on his face. His eyes looked around in the mirrors, trying to spot the woman. “That all you got?” he taunted her, giving his leg a hard slap to shake off the pain.

She was a wily one, that much was sure. Not that Vandrad had expected anything less from a woman that was touted as one of Ozorith’s strongest generals. She had a lot of tricks and that wasn’t even counting the things that she undoubtedly had hidden still. The mirrors and the ice stream was a devastating attack, one that would have ended far less experienced fighters. Even then, they hadn’t come out of it unscathed; Cedric’s leg was injured and bleeding and the frigid temperature and the black ice itself was hindering his magic’s ability to heal. Still he wanted to fight, practically begging her to carry on and prove her worth. She disregarded his attempts to continue to insult her. She admitted that she had just been playing around, testing their limits while amusing herself with their attempts to fight against what she considered fate. But as she saw it, they were done with the introduction and it was time to bring the curtain down and prove to them just how superior they were.

The Omen appeared, both men turning to face her as the snow from the room took her form. She gave them one final warning, parting words of dismissal at any woe they would have at their fate once they had passed on. Her hands came up in front of her, facing one another and the incredible demonic magic she had brought together was palpable in the air. The weight of it bore down on each of them, harking back to the encounter with Faera in Mythal’s body for Vandrad. But it was more primed, far more refined than that was and the lethality of it was without question. She declared it ‘Absolute Zero’ and then clapped her hands together, destroying the orb in one simple motion and engaging the true capacity of the spell. And both of them were dipped into a cold beyond understanding. It hit hard and fast, infecting their bodies with its sharp agony. The air around them froze, leaving no air to gasp into. Their Empowerments flashed out of existence as the ethernano, too, found itself a frozen statue of what it was before.

The Ark, naturally, kicked in and surrounded them in a thin layer of dreadether, the first sign that something was amiss for Eden. It wasn’t fully strong enough to counter the strength of her spell, merely a last gasp attempt for them to escape. And it seemed that was exactly what Vandrad had in mind. "Cedric, you need to get us out of here,” Vandrad snapped at him.

Despite the situation, completely in spite of the mortal danger they were both in, Cedric began to… laugh. “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible, Vandrad,” he replied coolly, irony intended.

"What?!”

“I’m not entirely certain she has locked in here. But even if she didn’t… I did. Once I had confirmed that this hellspawn wench was truly going to fight us, I engaged Expansion; the first step in a deathmatch with an immortal. No one can leave, no one can call for help -- not until the immortal is dead or the user of the Ark of the Dread Masters is,” Cedric explained, casually using up the minimal oxygen the Ark had granted him. Gray eyes, illuminated by the refraction of light from Eden’s mirrors, looked up at the demoness with amusement and bloody delight. “But I figured I’d have some time before I had to use my little trick. Ah well; I can’t say I didn’t goad her into this myself.”

The thin barrier of dreadether that surrounded him burst, his last defense exhausted. For a brief moment, it looked like Cedric had succumbed to the spell instantly… until flames erupted out of him, surging outwards in a spiraling wall just below his and Vandrad’s knees. Hellfire, demonic-infused fire formed a perfect circle around the former Dread Master and his ally as he continued to grin. “You’re about to be very angry with me, Vandrad. I promise you, I’ll give you an explanation after.”

Within his mind, Cedric stood before the cage, the one he’d formed in his mind. He sighed internally. Perhaps there was still a small part of him that was still Scourge. The latch opened and the metal grate swung open, opening the cage fully. And the darkness rushed out to meet him. Outwards, a pulse of infernal magic erupted from Cedric’s core and he let out a strangled yell as a fiery light shot out from beneath his suit. The ground rumbled violently around them, the rustle of the icy glass echoing in the chamber as the shirt and suit caught fire, vaporizing into embers. Cedric’s chest too was seemingly burning up, blackening his skin with red veins that ran up his chest and towards his neck. His arms shook and then stiffened as blazing fur appeared on his forearms, his fingernails becoming sharp talons. A tail, made up of flame and fur, ripped out from his lower back and swung up and around to hang just behind him. Cedric’s cheeks expanded, as if he was holding his breath before his mouth opened in a yell, flames shooting out from deep within him. The fiery display doubled back and engulfed his head in the wicked flames, a blackened portrait of the former Dread Master’s skull briefly flashing in the fire.

And then the flames swelled up and melded with his hair, his skull a matchstick lit and brimming. His flesh had become redder as well, save for his face that was completely blackened. Round, glowing eyes stared at Eden as his mouth opened once more, letting out a ragged growl, baring his fangs at the demoness. She would know his magical aura instantly, that of Omigen, the Foremost Hunger under Illgan.

He was standing in his position for only a moment before he reappeared in front of her, his arm already in motion. A hard, devastating punch that would send her through the cavern walls, soaring out into the open air of the snowy region. But he was already in her way, a leg primed and kicking up into her spine as she came to meet him. Yet her didn’t stop, zooming upwards and hit her back and forth like pedals to a pinball. Up into the air she would go, only stopping once he’d freed her but only because he’d shot upwards of her, arm wrenched back. Down he came, slamming his fist into her core as he drove her back down towards the ground. The flames ignited around him, swallowing up both Cedric and Eden as the fiery comet came crashing down into the ravine, rumbling the earth and shattering the long resting stone outcrop.

In the crater of their impact, Cedric pulled her up from the rocky debris by her neck. His other hand was coated in a blaze as it curved into a flat edge. Two swift movements, incapable of being seen by human eyes, sliced through her arms at the shoulders, divorcing her upper limbs from her torso. He would toss her up into the air, flames lapping at his lips before he shot out a fiery blast that would explode on her form, sending her flying back into the half-collapsed cavern they’d originated in. Vandrad was still there, lost for words but freed from his peril. He could only watch as Eden landed hard on the frozen ground, followed almost instantly by the transformed Cedric landing on her again, his legs standing right on hers.

“I guess it’s you who is going to die too quickly,” the transformed former Dread Master snarled down at her. A rumbling, lava-bubbling-like laugh emerged from his mouth.
“Who’s worthless now?!” Both hands came down and stabbed their claws up into her ribcage, pressing inwards. Painful for sure, but Eden would feel something far more horrifying. Her essence, her soul, the very elemental power that made her her was somehow gripped and held. “Domination: Infernal.” Cedric growled, engaging the primary action of the Ark of the Dread Master. Eden would only get a second to feel the agony of her physical pain before suddenly, there would be a torment beyond words. Her body would begin to break apart as dreadether surged into her soul and caged it, corrupting it and wiping the person she was from it. And then it would bring her into the Ark, her essence suctioned into a cage where it would be well and truly emptied of her being.

In the end, all that would be left would be a stone statue of Eden, frozen at the peak of her agony. Still showing all the damage from her ‘fight’, her body would forever stay, a monument to her defeat at the hands of a mortal. Cedric reared back as the flames began to wash off of him, surging back into the core they had erupted from. His demonic features dissipated as he stumbled back a step or two, fully realized in his human form once more. “Damn, that…hurt so much more than I thought it would,” he quipped as his muscles twitched and violently cramped.

"Cedric,” Vandrad spoke up, drawing the former Dread Master’s attention. His face had paled slightly, his eyes wide in shock and awe. "What the fuck did you just do?”

Cedric didn’t answer right away, trying to catch his breath. He knew that using the form was going to take a lot out of him but he hadn’t been prepared for how much. It had been a complete and constant drain on his magic, altering it to its very core. Worse, though Omigen was well and truly gone from the essence, that didn’t keep the powerful demonic power from being unwieldy at very best. He’d been waging a two-pronged battle; one with Eden and one with control over the power he’d called over himself. And now he was exhausted, barely able to stand on his feet. He recognized that Vandrad had asked a question but it hadn’t truly registered the words of it yet. “Huh?” he asked in slight wonder.

"I asked you what the hell that was. What did you just do,” Vandrad demanded.

“Oh,” the former Dread Master replied, giving a small shake of his head. “It was a Take Over… of sorts. And I just used the Ark to absorb her power. The power of a power ice demon, of Ozorith’s court…” he let a small, tired smirk tug on his lips as he closed his hand into a triumphant fist. “That makes me feel much better.”

"Putting aside this oafish celebration of a victory, do you understand the predicament you have put us into? Put Mythal and Serilda into?” Vandrad asked, walking closer to the former Dread Master. "We just killed one of Ozorith’s Omens. That is going to cause a problem.”

“She attacked us. She lost her life at the expense of our own self defense,” Cedric tried to explain away the consequences.

"A factor that I doubt will carry much weight,” Vandrad said with a scoff. "We’ve no means to return to Ozorith’s realm now either.”

“Yeah but Serilda and Mythal are here. We can go over to them quickly and…” Well, he hadn’t thought about what Jareth might say in this instance. Would he be upset that Eden was dead? Would he attempt to take vengeance on them before they even got back to Ozorith? The weight of his actions were, finally, starting to carry some substance.

Vandrad seemed to pick up on Cedric’s train of thought. As much as he didn’t want to endanger Mythal or Serilda at the hands of Jareth, simply running back to the island would create, arguably, worse problems. “Tsk,” Vandrad scoffed again. “Never mind, we’ll work it out as we go. Take us to Mythal and Serilda now before you pass out from exhaustion. Once we’ve braved the waters of your consequences, then you’ll explain exactly what it was that you did.”

Cedric stared at Vandrad for a moment before he snorted in amusement. He reached out and planted his hand on the newly crowned king’s shoulder. “I did warn you that you would be angry with me,” he remarked as he fixated on Serilda’s magical signature.

Before they warped, Vandrad extended his hand to the ashen statue of what remained of Eden. Magic funneled into his palm and erupted outwards, vaporizing the form and the ground beneath it. "We don’t need evidence of the Ark being left about for anyone to find. Especially anyone of Ozorith’s ilk,” Vandrad explained, giving his comrade a nod. A moment later, they disappeared from the newly founded grave, leaving the icy cavern much worse than it had started.

They reappeared only feet away from Mythal and Serilda, Cedric looking a bit worse for wear. “Hello all,” he greeted the three. “I do hope your investigation has gone better than ours.”