Chapter 24: Mount Selvaro
Step by step, we stomped through the dense marsh. Small droplets of apprehensive sweat perspired from my skin as I glanced from side to side, observing the escort circle of royal guards that had formed around me and Sebastian, with the lady of the bunch leading at the front of the formation.
"Uhm, Ma'am?" I addressed her, hoping that she wouldn't be too standoffish with me.
"Yes?" She cooked her helm.
"Your friends here seem to be staring at me quite intently," I said as we walked. I could feel the shielded eyes of the guards all fixating on me. As if Sebastian's presence was nonexistent to them, or mine was just that much more fascinating.
It's a little creepy to be honest. They're not outwardly expressing any outright hostility, but there's still this passive, almost lingering pressure radiating off them. It's giving me shivers.
"Verily, 'tis but the way of fate, for thou art the foremost, after all."
Ugh, if only I could understand that infuriatingly cryptic manner of speaking. I get that they've secluded themselves here all this time, but would it kill them to at least learn a little bit of modern lingo?
If there's ever a day when House Buné's Patriarch can't comprehend them, I can only imagine the laughable disaster of miscommunication that would follow.
"Old man, mind translating that for me?" I had no other choice but to turn to Sebastian for help.
"It's because of your clan trait, that's all. They've never seen a Buné with more than one, so they're expressing their curiosity by staring at you like a bunch of chimpanzees seeing fire for the first time."
Ah, so it's because I'm part Sallos. That makes a lot more sense.
"I beseech thee, Sebastian, to refrain from likening mine esteemed subordinates to mere simians." She shot him a harsh, reprimanding glare.
However, it was clear she understood that she held absolutely no physical leverage against him. Which was probably for the best, I'm not interested in witnessing a massacre prior to my ceremony. It's the last thing my stomach needs right now.
"I call things like I see them," he shrugged. His voice was laced with distinct pretension. "Besides, isn't it about time you stop referring to me as Sebastian? Last I checked, I'm still House Buné's Patriarch, and you're still a servant of said house."
"Thou dost jest not, for I know well the emptiness of thy formalities, which bear no weight in thine heart." She breathed a long, exasperated exhale.
Did I just see the old bastard smile?
No, I must have imagined it. The pressure's probably causing my mind to lose a bit of its sharpness.
Focus Alduin. Focus.
"Yet of greater import," her pace slowed ever so slightly. "I find myself compelled to ponder thy choice to consort with her, of all wretches."
I might not fully understand what she's saying, but I know for a fact she just mentioned Martha in some manner.
"Oh? Not a Sallos fan are we?" He chuckled, notably bemused by her inquiry.
I could feel something within her tense, her pace quickening once more.
"Nay, 'tis not the surname that doth ignite my concern."
In that moment, I detected a chink in her armor of absolute composure, allowing me to get a read on her emotions for a split-second.
She's afraid.
"You wouldn't be the first," Sebastian replied indifferently, as if he had heard the statement thousands upon thousands of times before. "And if anything, you should be grateful to me. Adding her blood to the mix has practically saved our lineage."
"Such truths doth yet linger in the shadows of fate," her pitch dropped, her tone turning grave. "Though thy choice may bear fruit most bounteous, thou art a simpleton if thou thinkest it shall not demand a toll most grave."
Eventually, glistening rays of sunlight began to pierce through the thick canopy looming above our heads, indicating that we were approaching the mouth of the Everglades. My eyes only needed a moment to adjust to the change in brightness.
Holy shit.
And there it was, standing before me in all its esteemed glory.
A mountain. With lush greenness adorning its surface, the likes of which I had never seen, even when I visited the Sitri Clan's territory. Clouds and opaque fog rolled around the formation's summit, accompanied by flocks of bird-like demonic beasts hovering in search of their next meal.
Everything about it screamed perfection.
Except for one part.
The mountain had no peak.
Or rather, its peak had been cleaved off. Replaced by a gargantuan clawmark that filled me with both dread and infatuation.
"Dost thou not perceive the exquisite allure of this realm?" She began, her mood taking a turn for the better as she gazed upon the sight, just like I was. "Dost thou dare to ponder whence springs the origin of yon clawmark?"
"No clue," I shook my head. Inwardly hoping that I had understood her question correctly.
"It's Albion's." Sebastian clarified.
A bit of disappointment brewed within her as he spoke. I think she wanted to be the one to say it herself. Tactless old bastard.
"Albion and Selvaro fought here during the Great War. Selvaro lost. The end." His voice radiated with impatience. "Now, can we please move on? I'm not in the mood for story time."
She let out a pained sigh. "Thou hast yet to comprehend the reverence due to the illustrious deeds of our venerable forebear, the very one who hath fashioned the foundation of all thine possessions this day."
"Hmph, dead men tell no tales. Unlike that snake in the Bael Clan, he failed to preserve himself. Therefore, he deserves to be forgotten. There's nothing more to it." He insisted, advancing past her, seemingly knowing the way forward to wherever it was we're supposed to go.
"Thy sire's demeanor dost crave much refinement," she addressed me.
I don't get it, but I think she said something bad about the old man.
"Can't argue with you there," I idly patted her pauldron. "You should see my mom, they're like two sides of the same coin."
"I possess not a whit of desire to cast myself upon the mercy of a most venomous serpent." She said with disdain.
Fair enough.
I proceeded to follow Sebastian. Instead of progressing upwards to the mountain's summit, we continued to delve further into its base. Arriving at a narrow, slit-like opening embedded into the side. Leading inwards into some sort of cave system.
The Royal Guards all halted in unison, including the lady who was their supposed leader.
"We shall pursue thee no longer, may fortune favor thee in thy trial henceforth. Alduin Sallos-Buné."
"Yeah, thanks." I smiled in return, giving her a light nod. There wasn't any form of natural or artificial light within the cavern, but it didn't matter—devils are nocturnal creatures by nature. Our eyes can adapt to the darkness with ease. "So, who exactly are those royal guards? Are they also members of our bloodline?"
"No," he replied curtly. "They're pathetic, artificial existences created by Selvaro to accomplish absolutely nothing. There's nothing royal about them. Trying to converse with them is a blatant waste of time."
I blinked repeatedly, my eyes widening in consternation. "Selvaro created people? That's one hell of a feat!"
He snickered crudely. "How so? If the creation is flawed, then so is the creator. The archives state that he attempted to create artificial members of the Buné Clan out of concern for our future population. Yet, those lowly guardsmen never became dragons. Only a flimsy imitation."
"Imitation?" I scratched my temple.
"They're Wyverns. Pathetic existences compared to the draconic blood of a true Buné. If you pass your ceremony, you'll immediately be capable of defeating every last one of them on your lonesome—with ease, despite their millennia' worth of experience."
Seriously? I probably shouldn't debate him when it comes to fighting knowledge. However, there is one part of his statement with which I can't agree.
Those royal guards definitely serve a purpose. I refuse to believe they exist just for the sake of existing. There's more to them. I can feel it in my bones. Selvaro had to have placed them here for a reason.
As to what that reason was? Well, that's a research topic for another time.
We continued our stroll, finding ourselves within the confines of what I could describe as a shrine of sorts. Laced with all kinds of millennia-old furniture, papers, and instruments, I couldn't even begin to discern.
And blood.
A lot of blood, all of it dried and sprawled across the rigid, stone walls of the place.
"They're all failed awakenings," he clarified.
That means Ladora's blood is somewhere up there as well.
There was also a statue, carved entirely out of some sort of marble-like material. It depicted a man with a powerful face, more imposing than any I had ever seen.
Like mine, his hair was as spiky as a porcupine's behind—and its length reached all the way down to his waist, his shoulder-length bangs covering the side of his face. His expression was placid, much like Sebastian's, his arms folded across his chest as if he were deep in contemplation.
His horns were pretty much the same shape—save for being a touch longer. And attire-wise, he wore some kind of plated armor guarding his chest, waist, shoulder, and thighs.
This must be Selvaro.
It's a shame we couldn't meet, but I'll try to at least live up to your memory. Starting here, with this ceremony.
"Enough gawking." My thoughts were disturbed by Sebastian's usual chiding. "Sit here," he pointed to a stone slab—elevated by a flight of stairs carved out of rock.
I did as he asked, and he handed me a reddish, flat cup—almost like one intended for sake.
Ba-dump!
And then he pulled out a vial, one teeming with a bright-purple, luminescent, viscous sludge-like liquid.
That must be Tannin's blood!
"Oh?" He lifted an eyebrow, impressed for some reason currently unbeknownst to me. "You're a lot more composed than I thought. I was half-expecting you to reach out and try to snag it from me. Not that you'd have any chance of succeeding."
Shit! I internally panicked a little.
"You're the one who kept pounding the concept of emotional control into my skull, you shouldn't be surprised that it's showing results." I hurried to muster up a response, desperate to ensure that he didn't catch on to anything being awry.
Serafall was right. Tannin's blood doesn't even begin to compare to Tiamat's. I definitely experienced somewhat of a reaction just now, but the intensity wasn't even a thousandth of what it was when I met with them.
"Me teaching you is one thing, you actually listening is another." He said, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
I swear I've heard those words before.
"Oh well, I'm not one to complain about pleasant surprises." He uncorked the vial, the vigorous scent of draconic blood wafting through my nostrils, causing my pupils to constrict.
Alright, now that he's uncapped it I'm starting to feel the effect. Still, I can't help but wonder, and almost fear, what'll happen to me once I'm fully exposed to Tiamat's sanguine juice. I can only hope I'll be better prepared once that time comes.
I watched as he emptied the vial into the cup, my hands adjusting to the minor increase in weight.
"Drink up," he instructed plainly. As if this wasn't one of, if not the most pivotal moments of my life.
"Any last-minute tips you might want to throw my way?" I chuckled nervously.
"Not really," he stroked his chin, briefly falling into thought. "I suppose, it'd do you good not to lose sight of what you desire most. That's about all the help I can give you—besides the years of training I've done to prepare you for this moment, that is."
"Fair enough," I flicked my brow.
"Just make sure you pass, if you end up deviating—then I'll be the one to put you down myself."
Gee, real supportive.
At least the suspicion from his voice has dissipated.
Whelp, here goes nothing.
I raised the rim of the rose-colored cup to my lips, delicately pouring the liquid down my mouth, careful to waste not even a drop of the Blaze Meteor Dragon's blood.
Instantly, I could feel my throat start to scald, the searing sensation millions of times worse than what I felt upon consuming the wine Sebastian adored back home. The same one he imported from the Phenex Clan.
But that was only the beginning.
The real pain was yet to come.
"Kuh!" I clasped my hands around my throat, feeling my windpipe close up entirely out of the blue.
Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
My BPM flared to life like a racing engine. My veins bulged out of my skin, centrally around my throat. It felt like someone had dissected them out of my body and replaced them with molten lava. In that instant, all the pain I had endured at the hands of Sebastian and Martha felt like nothing in comparison.
"Relax, it may feel like you're dying, but you aren't. You'll pass out soon enough, and that's when your trial will really begin."
I keeled over, Sebastian's words barely even registering to me as my side hit the hard flooring. My mind was convinced that I was on the verge of a spasm.
However, his statement soon proved to be true.
Pain was replaced with weakness, and the light around me was swallowed whole by darkness. My consciousness is fading out, and leaving me in a slumber.
A slumber that hardly lasted a second. I mean, that's what all sleep feels like, but I digress.
When I came to, the scenery around me had morphed. The area around me didn't even resemble the shrine I was just in.
The ground beneath me was littered with dead leaves, mushrooms, and all sorts of decomposers that you'd usually find at the bottom-most layer of a rainforest. Which also meant—there were insects. Gross. Isn't this place supposed to be some kind of mindscape? Couldn't I do without the bugs?
Damn my own brain.
"Yo."
Startled by the sudden, grainy voice, I turned around. Finding myself met with a sight that rivaled even that of Mount Selvaro in all of its historic glory.
Sweet mother of Lilith!
There stood a tree. A tree so large it seemed to stretch upwards all the way to heaven itself. Each root was thicker than a mammoth's trunk, and each individual leaf broader than a dragon's wing. It was a sight so grand that I hardly even felt worthy of standing in its presence, despite the underlying fact that this was my own mindscape.
And at the base of it all, remained a humble chair that had been crafted entirely out of roots. With a figure, presumably the origin of the voice I had just heard, sitting atop its composition.
A figure that looked like me, but also didn't at the same time.
For starters, he was taller—pretty much level with Sebastian's height who was probably around the 6'2 range. His physique was noticeably more muscular, and faint-green light, patterned like veins crawling beneath his skin, was visible.
On top of his head rested a surprising four, long, slightly curved draconic horns, two on each side. The front pairs faced forwards, and the back pairs faced backwards. How strange. But it's also kind of cool-looking at the same time.
His irises were the exact same verdant shade as mine, only draconic in nature, which spelled out exactly who he was in bright neon letters.
"So, you're my dragon."
I was face-to-face with the one who would test me.
"Yeah, that's me." He clasped his hands behind his back, staring at me inquisitively. "You're here because you want to be a dragon, isn't that right?"
"Obviously," I scoffed. What kind of nonsensical question is that?
"I see," he hummed, nodding to himself. "I think that's a foolish wish."
"Pardon?"
Instead of offering me an immediate response, he stomped his foot against the ground. Roots rising from the earth and forming into the shape of a spear—the exact same technique I used in my training sessions with Martha.
He plucked it from its foundation, twirling it around seamlessly before pointing its tip at me.
"Tell me, Alduin Buné, what does it matter if—you—become a dragon? That band of mortality will always be around your head."
"Great, more cryptic nonsense. Just what I needed." I rolled my eyes.
"Even if you make it out of here successfully. Even if you reach Thora. Even if you reach Martha and Sebastian. Even if you go higher than that, aspiring to the likes of Selvaro himself. You can keep going as far as you like. It won't change a thing. You'll always be shackled. You'll always be caged. You'll always be mortal."
"Mind putting it in terms I can actually understand?" I asked while flippantly picking my ear.
"I'm asking you for a reason—a reason to let you become a dragon. Because the way I see it, there's no point in doing so." He unfolded his palm, idly creating a few flowers as if my presence was of no consequence to him. "If anything, I feel like I'd be doing you a service by preventing you from stepping on that path."
"I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with you there." I mimicked him, creating a spear of my own and adopting a challenging posture. "I must become a dragon, it's not up for debate. You're clearly here to stand in the way of that, which is why I'm going to destroy you just as Sebastian did."
He sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly.
"Very well then," he replicated my battle stance. "Come forth, child of the moon. Let us begin this futile ceremony with a foregone conclusion."
———
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