ASH POV
The world dissolved into a swirling vortex of colors, a chaotic blend of fire's crimson, water's cerulean, earth's ochre, and wind's ethereal white. My consciousness, adrift and disoriented, floated through this ever-shifting landscape.
I found myself standing in a labyrinth, its walls formed of pure elemental energy. The walls pulsed with light, each section representing a different element: crackling lightning for air, molten rock for earth, flowing water for… well, water, and flickering flames for fire. The air buzzed with a low hum, a symphony of elemental forces.
A voice, echoing from all directions, whispered my name. "Ash… Ash…" It was a chorus of voices, familiar yet distorted, like the echoes of my past.
The labyrinth shifted, the walls rearranging themselves, creating new paths and dead ends. I stumbled forward, my feet sinking into the shifting ground, a mixture of sand and water. I saw glimpses of figures in the distance, their forms flickering and indistinct, like memories fading in and out of focus.
Master Aginor appeared, his form shimmering like a mirage, his eyes filled with a sad wisdom.
"Ash," he said, his voice a gentle breeze, "you must find balance. The elements are not your tools, but your allies."
He reached out, his hand a wisp of smoke and light, and offered me a glowing orb. "Take this, Ash. It will guide you."
The orb pulsed with elemental energy, its light shifting and changing, reflecting the colors of the labyrinth. I reached for it, but my hand passed through it, like grasping at smoke.
The labyrinth twisted again, and I found myself standing before a towering wall of ice. Frozen within the ice were faces, familiar and unfamiliar, their expressions frozen in terror. I saw Nyxara, her eyes wide with fear, her form encased in a block of ice. I saw Regal, his face contorted in pain, his body trapped within a frozen prison.
A cold voice, sharp as a shard of ice, echoed through the labyrinth. "They are trapped, Ash. Just as you will be."
Magnus appeared, his eyes glowing with malevolent energy, his form radiating darkness. "You cannot save them," he sneered. "You are weak, Ash. You are dying."
The ice wall began to crack, the frozen figures within screaming in silent agony. I tried to reach them, to break through the ice, but my hands were numb, my body weak.
Suddenly, the labyrinth began to crumble, the walls collapsing, the ground falling away. I was falling, falling into an abyss of darkness.
Then, a blinding light erupted, a beacon of pure elemental energy. My staff, glowing with all the elements, floated before me, its light pushing back the darkness.
A shape came to me. An evil shape in a cage. His eyes is orange ands red with madness, and anger. He made Zaroth look like a baby. I don't remember much else about him. Only his eyes. They held pure beauty with evil, ugliness and fineness. I was amazed and trapped by his power. Only his eye did that. I wondered what he wonders he would bestow on anyone if you looked at his full body. Somehow, I had a guess that he is K'tharos.
Then a voice bellowed
"You are not alone, Ash," the voice echoed, strong and resolute. "You are the balance. You are the hope."
The darkness retreated, the labyrinth fading away, replaced by a swirling vortex of light. I was no longer falling, but rising, rising towards the light.
Then, silence. A profound, echoing silence.
Then, a voice.
"Wake up. Wake up you fool. Dont die because you wanted to save me. Ash. You dolt." A female voice was yelling angrily as her hand attacked my chest rapidly. I am not dead was the first thought that came to me. Then different voices came to me like.
"Is Nyxara dead?."
"What about my dearest friend. Regal.. Is he dead.?"
"Am I in the land of the dead."
"I must be in hell because of all the dreams. The tortoured dreams. Everthing. I am a sinner so hell is coming to get me."
"Xylos the god of the dead is coming to get me"
My eyelids fluttered open, the world a watercolor painting of muted colors and indistinct shapes. Nyxara's face, held worry and a fleeting flicker of anger, hovered above me. Her silver eyes, usually sharp and sardonic, were softened with an uncharacteristic concern, a vulnerability she usually kept tightly guarded.
"Finally," she muttered, her voice laced with a mixture of relief and annoyance, a thin veil over the worry that had clearly gripped her. "I was starting to think I'd have to drag your corpse back to wherever we're going."
I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness, like a crashing tide, washed over me, and I sank back onto the damp earth. The back of my head throbbed with a dull ache, a persistent drumbeat against my skull, and a sticky warmth spread across my scalp. I reached back, my fingers encountering a matted clump of hair, stiff with a sticky, congealed substance. Blood.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and weak, a dry rasp in the quiet air.
"Magnus happened," Nyxara said, her voice tight with anger, each word clipped and precise. "He knocked you out. You hit your head on a rock. You were bleeding quite a bit."
"Regal?" I asked, my voice filled with a lingering concern, my mind still wrestling with the disjointed fragments of the dream.
"He's fine," Nyxara said, nodding towards a figure standing a short distance away. Regal, his mask still obscuring his features, stood with his arms crossed, his posture tense and alert. He was scanning the surrounding area, his eyes sharp and watchful, like a hawk surveying its territory.
"He's been watching our backs," Nyxara said, her voice softening slightly, a hint of grudging respect in her tone. "He's been… helpful." She does not feel one for me. Respect I mean.
I looked around, taking in our surroundings, trying to piece together the fragments of memory. We were in a small clearing, a pocket of space carved out of the dense foliage of the Whispering Woods. The pre-dawn darkness was beginning to fade, the first rays of a pale dawn filtering through the canopy of trees, revealing the ghostly silhouettes of the surrounding forest. The air was still and cold, heavy with the lingering scent of damp earth and pine needles, a somber stillness that amplified the tension in the air.
"How long was I out?" I asked, my voice still rough, trying to gauge the passage of time.
"Not long," Nyxara replied, her eyes never leaving mine. "An hour. But long enough to make me think you were going to join the ranks of the dead."
I tried to stand again, this time managing to sit up without succumbing to the swirling dizziness. The voices in my head, the chaotic chorus of fear and confusion, had subsided, replaced by a dull ache and a lingering sense of unease, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. The dream, the visions of the elemental labyrinth, the chilling presence of Magnus, still lingered in my mind, a haunting reminder of my brush with death, a chilling premonition of what was to come.
"We need to move," Regal said, his voice cutting through the silence, sharp and decisive. "They'll be searching for us. They won't leave us alone for long."
Nyxara nodded, her expression grim, her eyes reflecting the growing unease. "He's right. We can't stay here. We're too exposed."
I stood up, my legs feeling weak and unsteady, like they belonged to someone else. The world was still a little blurry, the edges of my vision slightly distorted, but the dizziness had subsided, replaced by a dull throb in my head. I looked at Nyxara, her face etched with a lingering concern, and at Regal, his masked features unreadable, his posture radiating a silent determination.
"Let's go," I said, my voice firm, though it still sounded weak to my ears. "We have a lot to do. We can't let Magnus, or Zaroth, get those relics."
"Ash, I can't follow you to get the relics." A voice, low and heavy with regret, broke the silence. It was Regal.
"Why?" I asked, the word a raw rasp in my throat, a sudden hollowness spreading through my chest.
"We are brothers from different mothers. We promised to always aid ourselves forever, till we die," I said, the words a desperate plea, a reminder of a bond I thought unbreakable.
"Yes, we did," Regal replied, his voice strained, "but I have gathered some rebels to help me take back my kingdom. I have like twenty men that consist of Shifters, Warlords, Lesser demons, and other soldiers." His voice was quiet, laced with pain, the words a confession and a farewell.
"Brother," I murmured, the word a breath, a whisper of disbelief.
"I am sorry," Regal said, his shoulders slumping, the weight of his decision evident in his posture. He turned towards his horse, a magnificent black stallion, its coat gleaming in the pale dawn light. He mounted with a fluid motion, his eyes avoiding mine.
"Regal, did you take Tempest?" I asked, my voice rising slightly, a desperate attempt to hold onto the last thread of our connection. I had forged that sword for him, a masterpiece of sun magic, a symbol of our shared past.
"Yes," Regal said, his voice curt, the word a clipped affirmation. He kicked his horse, the animal responding instantly, its hooves striking the earth with a sharp, echoing thud.
I watched him go, my heart sinking with each stride of the horse. Regal and his mount moved with a swift, purposeful gait, disappearing into the dense foliage of the Whispering Woods. The shadows swallowed him whole, leaving only the faint echo of hoofbeats and the lingering scent of his departure.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, my gaze fixed on the vanishing point where he had disappeared. The forest seemed to close in around me, the silence amplifying the hollowness within. The bond we shared, the promise we made, seemed to dissolve into the air, leaving behind only the bitter taste of betrayal.
The sun began to rise, casting long, distorted shadows that danced among the trees, mocking my solitude. I turned away, the weight of Regal's departure settling upon me like a physical burden. The path ahead was uncertain, the challenges daunting, but I knew I had to continue. I had to find the relics, to stop Zaroth, and to protect the world from the darkness that threatened to consume it. Even if I had to do it alone. No. Not Alone. With Nyxara. I hope she wont leave me alone.
We gathered our things and climbed our horses. We rode quietly through the night. We didnt speak at all except when I asked what we should eat. We ate some rabbit pie from the rabbit I killed.
We rode all night, the rhythmic thud of hooves against the worn path a constant drumbeat against the silence, until the first hint of dawn painted the horizon. The biting wind, a relentless tormentor, finally relented as we approached the flickering lights of a small village nestled amongst the rolling hills. A sign, swinging gently in the morning breeze, announced our destination: The Hearthstone Inn.
Pulling our weary horses to a halt, I dismounted, my muscles aching from the long ride. The inn, a two-story structure of weathered stone and timber, exuded a warm, inviting glow, a beacon of hope against the encroaching weariness. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, carrying the promise of a crackling fire and a hot meal.
Nyxara, her face etched with exhaustion, dismounted beside me, her silver eyes scanning the surrounding area, ever vigilant. "Looks… adequate," she murmured, her voice laced with a hint of skepticism.
"Adequate is a vast improvement over sleeping in the woods," I retorted, stretching my stiff limbs. "Besides, I'm starving. And I'm in desperate need of a warm drink."
We led our horses to the stable, a sturdy building attached to the inn, and secured them in comfortable stalls. The stable smelled of hay and leather, a comforting scent that spoke of rest and respite.
As we entered the inn, a wave of warmth washed over us, a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside. The common room was dimly lit, the air thick with the aroma of roasted meat and spiced ale. A large fireplace crackled merrily at one end of the room, casting a warm glow over the worn wooden tables and benches. A handful of patrons, their faces etched with the weariness of travel, sat scattered throughout the room, their voices a low murmur against the crackling fire.
The innkeeper, a stout man with a ruddy complexion and a warm smile, approached us, his eyes twinkling with hospitality. "Welcome, travelers," he boomed, his voice echoing through the room. "Come in, come in. You look like you've had a long ride."
"We have," I replied, returning his smile. "We're looking for rooms for the night, and a hot meal if you have any."
"Of course, of course," the innkeeper said, gesturing towards a table near the fireplace. "We have plenty of rooms, and the stew is just about ready. It'll warm you right up."
He led us to the table, and we settled into the comfortable wooden benches, the warmth of the fire seeping into our bones. Nyxara, despite her initial skepticism, seemed to relax slightly, her shoulders loosening, her gaze softening.
"This is… better than expected," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I told you," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "Sometimes, you just have to trust the warmth of a hearthstone."
The innkeeper, whose name I learned was Thomas, returned with two steaming bowls of stew, the aroma alone enough to make my stomach rumble with anticipation. The stew was thick and hearty, filled with chunks of tender meat, root vegetables, and a savory broth that warmed me from the inside out. A basket of crusty bread accompanied the stew, perfect for soaking up the flavorful liquid.
"Eat up," Thomas said, his eyes twinkling. "You'll feel like new men. And uh woman"
We ate in comfortable silence, the warmth of the stew and the crackling fire lulling us into a sense of peace. Nyxara, surprisingly, seemed to enjoy the meal, her usual sarcastic remarks replaced by contented sighs.
"Not bad," she admitted, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "For inn food."
"I told you," I said, chuckling. "Thomas knows his way around a pot. It seems"
After we finished eating, Thomas showed us to our rooms, two small but comfortable chambers on the second floor. The rooms were simply furnished, with a bed, a small table, and a washbasin, but they were clean and warm, a welcome respite from the cold night.
"If you need anything, just let me know," Thomas said, his voice warm and genuine. "Breakfast will be served at dawn."
We thanked him and closed the door, the sound of the common room fading into a gentle murmur. I collapsed onto the bed, the soft mattress a welcome relief after hours in the saddle. Nyxara, ever cautious, inspected the room, running her hand along the windowsill and peering under the bed.
"No dust bunnies," she declared, her voice laced with surprise. "Or at least, not many."
"See?" I said, yawning. "I told you this place was decent."
"Decent enough," she conceded, pulling off her boots. "But I'm still keeping my daggers close."
I chuckled, too tired to argue. "Suit yourself. I'm going to sleep."
I closed my eyes, the warmth of the room and the fullness of my stomach lulling me into a deep slumber. The dreams were fragmented and disjointed, a jumble of memories and anxieties, but they were less intense than the visions I had experienced earlier. I slept soundly, undisturbed by the nightmares that had plagued me since Master Aginor's death.
When I awoke, the first rays of dawn were filtering through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. I stretched, my muscles still aching but feeling less stiff than before. Nyxara was already awake, sitting at the table, sharpening her daggers.
"Morning," I said, my voice still thick with sleep.
"Morning," she replied, her eyes fixed on the blade. "Breakfast is almost ready."
We went downstairs, the common room already bustling with activity. Thomas was busy serving breakfast to the patrons, his face flushed with the heat of the kitchen. The aroma of bacon and eggs filled the air, making my stomach rumble with hunger.
We ate a hearty breakfast, fueling ourselves for the day ahead. As we finished, Thomas approached us, his expression serious.
"There's been some talk in the village," he said, his voice low. "About a group of soldiers searching the area. They're asking about two travelers, a man and a woman. Although you are non. You are teens but I sense that you are they. They showed images of you guys."
My heart sank. "Kadian soldiers?" I asked.
Thomas nodded. "That's what they say. They're asking a lot of questions."
"Thank you, Thomas," I said, my voice grim. "We'll be careful."
I was wondering why he hadnt traded us for some gold. Seems like he is a true patriot of his kingdom. I had placed ruins on the bedroom.
We saddled our horses, the leather creaking in the crisp morning air, and set off, leaving the comforting warmth of The Hearthstone Inn behind. The village, nestled in a valley, quickly receded into the distance, swallowed by the rolling hills and the dense foliage of the surrounding forest.
"They'll be on us soon," Nyxara said, her voice tight with tension. "We need to move quickly."
"Where to?" I asked, scanning the horizon. "We can't keep running in circles."
"There's an old abandoned tower, a few days ride to the north," Nyxara said, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. "It's secluded, defensible. We can use it as a temporary base. But warn you, it contains ancient magic and hideous creatures live there. They almost made a meal out of me"
"Abandoned tower?" I raised an eyebrow. "Sounds… inviting."
"It's better than being caught by Kadian soldiers," she retorted, her voice laced with her usual sarcasm. "Besides, it has a roof. Mostly."
We rode in silence, the rhythm of the horses' hooves a steady beat against the backdrop of the whispering woods. The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows that danced among the trees, creating an eerie sense of foreboding.
As we rode, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird.
"Do you feel that?" I asked, my voice low.
Nyxara nodded, her eyes narrowing. "They're close. I can feel their presence."
We pressed on, our pace quickening, the urgency of our situation growing with each passing moment. The path ahead twisted and turned, leading us deeper into the heart of the forest, away from the prying eyes of our pursuers.
Suddenly, a volley of arrows whistled through the air, striking the ground around us. We reined in our horses, drawing our weapons,; which consists of my staff and Nyxara daggers our eyes scanning the surrounding trees.
"Ambush!" Nyxara yelled, her voice sharp and clear.
A group of soldiers emerged from the shadows, their faces grim, their weapons drawn. They wore the distinctive armor of the Kadian army, their eyes filled with a cold determination.
"Surrender!" their leader shouted, his voice echoing through the forest. "You are wanted for questioning by Prince Magnus."
"We have nothing to say to Magnus," I retorted, my staff crackling with elemental energy.
"Nyxara, you traitor. You betrayed the hand that fed you."
"He didnt feed me, you know that as well as I do. He made me kill, torture, and hurt." Nyxara said quietly with venom
"Your last chance to surrender"
"No"
"Then you will die," the leader said, his voice laced with malice.
They attacked.
I am tired of all this fighting, attacking and capturing.
The battle erupted with a fury that mirrored my own frustration. Nyxara, a whirlwind of shadow and steel, moved with a predatory grace, her daggers a blur of deadly precision. With a flick of her wrist, she launched a dagger, its trajectory a silver arc cutting through the air. It found its mark with chilling accuracy, impaling a soldier with a shock of gold hair through the chest. He crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide with surprise and disbelief.
"Globus Ignis!" I roared, channeling my frustration into raw power. A blazing sphere of fire erupted from my staff, hurtling towards the oncoming soldiers. It struck one of them with explosive force, engulfing him in a fiery inferno. His screams were cut short as the flames consumed him, leaving behind only a charred silhouette.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, pushing back the weariness. I charged into the fray, my staff a conduit for the elements. "Globus Aqua!" I yelled, summoning a swirling sphere of water that slammed into a group of soldiers, knocking them off their feet and sending them sprawling across the forest floor. "Globus Terra!" The ground beneath them erupted, sending shards of rock flying, impaling limbs and shattering armor. "Globus Ventus!" A whirlwind of compressed air exploded outwards, flinging soldiers through the air like rag dolls, their cries lost in the roar of the wind.
I weaved through the chaos, a dancer of destruction, my movements fueled by a desperate need to survive. Each spell, each strike, was a release of pent-up frustration, a defiance of the relentless pursuit.
Meanwhile, Nyxara had engaged the leader of the soldiers, a hulking brute with a cruel grin and a bloodstained sword. Their blades clashed in a flurry of sparks, their movements a blur of deadly intent. Nyxara, despite her smaller stature, fought with a ferocity that belied her delicate frame. She parried his blows with lightning reflexes, her daggers finding gaps in his defenses, leaving trails of blood across his armor.
The leader roared in frustration, his attacks growing wilder, his movements less precise. Nyxara seized the opportunity, slipping under his guard, her dagger finding its mark with a sickening thud. He staggered back, his eyes widening in shock, a crimson stain blooming across his chest. He collapsed to his knees, his sword clattering to the ground, his lifeblood seeping into the earth.
With their leader fallen, the remaining soldiers faltered, their resolve crumbling. They retreated, their movements disorganized and panicked, leaving behind a trail of fallen comrades.
We stood amidst the carnage, our bodies bruised and battered, our breath coming in ragged gasps. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackling of the dying fire and the distant calls of birds. We won again but at what cost. Killing, Burning and so on.
Why do they keep calling Nyxara a traitor?. I mean, she is just a warlord that the king likes. She is just a soldier. Thats why. But they say that she bit the hand that fed them. I remembered what Magnus had said.
"I dont trust Nyxara."
"Well, you have never trusted her" Zaroth had replied.
A soldier can never be in the palace as early. Zaroth had spoken like he had known her for like ever. Also, she doesnt fight like a soldier. She is far skilled. Who is she?. Her fighting skill is foreign you might say. It kind of has a mix of the Kadia fighting and another one. The 'other one' is what I dont know. Who is she. She doesnt even look like a Kadian or like someone from my kingdom. Her behavior. She behaves like she does not have any feeling. Like she is cold and evil. But she isnt. I remember how her voice was when I was unconscious. It was fearful. Who is she?. She can bend shadows to her will. She walks like she is ready to fight or sleep. She walks like an assassin. Like she expects someone to stab her back. The ability to bend shadow is an ability that only a high demon can manage. Or....Or a shadow sorcerer. Those dont exist. They are extint. Maybe she is. A high demon and a sorcerer according to myth are almost like mages. But a sorcerer control fire, water, earth, or air. One of them. Whats the different between a mage and a sorcerer?. Oh. Yes. A mage needs to say spells for the chanelling to work. A sorcerer is born with his ability but a mage. A mage ability is awakened. Its like a candle that is sprang to life. If you use it up, you die. But then, some mages are born with the ability. Like me but that's one of a kind. A high demon works with darkness and light and other elements like time, sound, metal, void, chaos, and others. Does this mean that Nyxara is a high demon or sorcerer. She is one of them. But saying a sorcerer controls darkness haven't been proven. No names. No nothing. Only a high demon with shadow magic have been proven.
"Nyxara?. Who are you?." I asked.