Emptiness filled his soul, like an awful nothing feasting on his spirit. His mind struggled against the horrid desolation within as he awoke in this realm for the first time. He had no knowledge of himself. No past or future. Nothing but a soul-crushing void, as if the realm itself had stolen away everything that made him, him.
And yet, even in such a state, the young man's spirit somehow recalled the words he needed to speak.
As his mouth drifted open, the world around him seemed to respond, stirring with wrath. A dreadful grey fog of corruption swelled from all directions, as if it was aware that someone dared to resist its malevolent will, the emptiness within him growing stronger as the fog pressed closer.
His tongue lay heavy, the corruption stealing his will once more. Yet sacred words are powerful things. They carried a will of their own, subtle and fleeting, they could not be relied upon. Now, for whatever reason, they chose to tip the odds in the young man's favor.
A tortured grimace spread across his features as he forced out the stuttered words, his very being straining and cracking beneath a burden far heavier than an emptied soul should bear.
"Vo-Voluntas Lucis!"
The angry fog of corruption rippled violently with each word he forced out. When the final syllable left his lips, the fog began to still, and all the world went silent. Then, a small ember of burning will ignited in his chest, a lighthouse in the darkest abyss, chasing away the profane nothingness that had taken root inside him. His being returned piece by piece, like a candle melting its way free from a block of ice.
The confusion in his eyes faded, the grimace falling from his face and giving way to stunned recognition.
"I am… Leor… of the house of the flame, ours is the Will of light!"
As the words left his mouth, strength began to flow back into his body. He shook the unnatural cold from his arms, his brow furrowing at the sight of the grey, mist-like corruption that had nearly consumed his soul. By some miracle, he had been spared. But to fall so deeply into the embrace of such defilement was a death sentence. How had he survived such a thing?
His confusion gave way to rage, heat flooding his chest as he glared at the defiled realm around him.
"How dare you, disgusting thing?!" he cursed. "How could a realm fall in such a vile way, strangling the spirit of those who live within it? Like a mother drowning her own child! May the flame consume you!"
His memories had nearly fully returned. He was Leor, a seventeen year old Initiate of the House of the Flame. With his long training nearly completed, he was finally going to join the struggle against the defilement that had lasted over a thousand years.
The immortals who should have guarded the realms, Elyon of Light and Eres of Chaos, vanished just as the first taint began to spread through the greater web of realms, leaving Orders like the House of the Flame as their defense. Nevertheless, one ancient civilization after another was consumed by the unrelenting scourge. Entire realms became fallen hells, their inhabitants warped into dark and malevolent things.
Luckily, Leor's people were safely tucked away deep in the heart of the Realm of Light. He was a follower of the Volantis Lucis, the Will of the Light, a sacred faith embraced by many in the realm, including the House of the Flame. Leor's house made it their mission to stand against the defilement as warriors, explorers, and fellows of a quasi-religious order. Committed to the Realm of Light, their harsh training and unwavering faith helped them become strong enough to stand against the corruption.
He was to be sent to a lesser corrupted realm, where he could prove himself by redeeming a soul from that place, or, if none were worthy of redemption, ending their defilement permanently. Either way would benefit Leor. Redemption added to the Order's numbers, while slaying strengthened his own Will. Flames grow stronger when they are fed, after all.
But something had clearly gone very wrong. The last thing he remembered was stepping through the portal; the next, he was waking to find himself consumed by defilement.
This place was no lesser realm. The defilement that had taken hold here was like an abyss, deep and ancient. This realm had likely fallen long before he was born. But how could that be? How could his house make such a terrible mistake? It didn't make any sense.
The other initiates, Alina especially, might better understand the situation. He needed to find them.
It was already a miracle that an initiate like him had recovered his sense of self in such a corrupted land. By all rights, he should have died, or been swallowed by defilement forever. The worrying thought that the others might already have succumbed gnawed at him.
A shiver crept up his spine at the thought of his friends' bodies becoming twisted husks, the defilement snuffing out their spirits and using them for its own profane purposes.
Each realm fell in its own way, but usually it started off the same. Small corruption was ignored, until it spread beyond control. The realm chosen for the initiates' final trial should have been such a realm of light corruption, where they would need to use their training to hunt down the budding defilement.
This dreadful place, however, was so deeply fallen that Leor could hardly see. The empowered senses of an Initiate that allowed him to observe the corruption were now blinding him. Such a thing should hardly be possible, and yet the proof of it was pressing in all around him.
"It's like I've been dropped into the deepest layer of the abyss…" he muttered through shallow breaths, clenching his hands together anxiously.
Worse yet, the defilement here was uniquely deadly. Filled with a soul-destroying despair, it was trying to overcome his Will even now. It wanted to make him forget his own name, his love for his friends, and even his desire to live!
"Even standing still here is dangerous… what will happen when I face real danger?"
He stood frozen for a moment as his terrible circumstances fully sunk in. The corrupted mist was so thick he could hardly see a few meters away. His training was woefully inadequate for such a thing. Each initiate was trained in the teachings of the Volantis Lucis. Taught to empower their Will with the sacred flame, pushing back against the defiled influence of fallen realms. But he was only an initiate. His Will wasn't strong enough to contend with such powerful corruption.
The defilement of a realm could be gauged by the density of its corruption. This mist-like manifestation of defilement was visible only to those who had awakened the power of will. In a newly fallen world, an initiate's willpower should have been strong enough to hold the corruption back in a wide sphere, keeping it at bay. But here, that was not the case.
Taking a deep breath, he spoke the sacred words again, exerting his Will as he had been taught. The corruption rippled and flowed, but continued pressuring him like the weight of a great sea. Gritting his teeth, he pushed with all his might. Using every ounce of his inner strength, he forced it back a few inches, creating a bubble of will only a sword length wide.
"Damnable thing!"
A feeling of dread began to fill his chest as he realized the extent of the trouble he was in. If he couldn't even maintain a proper zone of Will, he had no way of returning home.
He slid the leather pack from his shoulders and pulled out a small stone tablet. With hurried hands, he pressed it flat against the rocky ground, his eyes fixed on the ornate flaming torch engraved upon its surface. The holy symbol of the House of Flame represented the realm of light itself, a beacon by which the masters of his house could locate the tablet and open a return portal.
His will began to seep into the symbol from all sides, as if the stone tablet were parchment soaking up vivid ink. A relieved grin spread across his lips as the edges of the symbol filled with color. It was going to work.
The power of his will began to color in the symbol from all sides, as if the stone tablet was a parchment paper, soaking up brightly colored pain. A relieved grin spread across his lips as he watched the willpower fill the symbol. It was going to work!
Just as the dread in his chest began to subside, he noticed from the corner of his vision as the corruption around him began to flow more quickly, and the pressure it exerted against him slowly intensified. He watched in horror as the willpower outside his body was mercilessly crushed and consumed before it could fill even half the sacred symbol.
Gritting his teeth, Leor hurled his will against the corruption again and again, until exhaustion spread through his heart from the strain.
Each time his attempt to portal home was thwarted in the same way. The corruption was too strong. This was one of the myriad reasons entering fallen realms was so dangerous. The greater the defilement, the more powerful a wielder of the flame needed to be in order to portal home. The defilement would instinctively snuff out any foreign will that tried to take root in its domain. Trying to empower the holy symbol with the will of a foreign realm was like kicking a hornet's nest—the fallen realm would certainly fight back.
He was way out of his depth. He had known it the moment he saw the thickness of the corruption in this realm, he just hadn't wanted to believe it.
Somehow, Leor had been cast into a fallen realm of the deepest defilement. The choking thickness of the corruption was such that even a team of adepts would struggle to endure it. In truth, only a band of masters might hope to explore this place without being slain by the horrors lurking in its depths.
Clenching his teeth so hard they nearly bled, Leor took out his frustration on the ground before him. He pounded his fist against the rocky soil as his anger was slowly replaced by hopeless despair. It was fitting—this was a realm of despair anyway. Pressing his hands over his eyes, his head slouched down toward the ground in defeat. Leor sat like that for a great deal of time, before his troubled soul began to calm. Slowly taking a deep breath and glancing through his fingers at the symbol of the flaming torch still lying on the ground beside him.
As he gazed at the sacred symbol, his hands slipped into his lap and he released a long, weary breath. Shame stirred in his chest at his weakness. Doomed or not, he had sworn an oath to carry the Will of the light to his final breath. Even if all hope was lost, his vow remained.
Bowing his head toward the flaming torch, he closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips together, steepling his hands and arms into an upward-facing arrow.
"Strengthen my Will, and guide my action, great light. Voluntas Lucis." he whispered.
After saying his prayer, he slowly rose to his feet and wrapped his fingers around the initiate's sword that hung by his waist, drawing it from its sheath. Nothing fancy, just a short sword forged from blessed steel, capable of being imbued with a small amount of will. This was a weapon capable of destroying the defilement within fallen creatures. Perfect for initiates.
He also reached into his pack and drew out a plain brass bar with a grip on one side. With a gentle flow of his Will, a ghostly white flame rippled to life at its tip.
The torch couldn't help him push back the mist of corruption, but it could help him see through it at the very least. If he wanted to find a way through this disaster, he would need to see what he was up against. As the light spread, his surroundings were finally made visible to him, even if the corruption made it difficult to make things out clearly.
As the darkness receded, he found himself near the top of a barren hill, its rocky slopes strewn with scattered boulders. Overhead, the moon glowed faintly, and by its position in the sky Leor could tell dawn was near. Behind him stretched an endless sea of misty corruption, with the faint outline of a dark forest at the hill's base. Stepping forward, he climbed to the peak, his breath suddenly caught in his chest as he beheld the scene beyond for the first time.
On the far side of the great hill lay the ruins of a sprawling ruins of a desolate city, with row upon row of strange and alien buildings. The architecture was calming and natural, almost as if an extension of the forest surrounding it. Many of the luminous magic stones that lined the pathways of the city still shone even now, making for a ghostly scene of desolation. As he started at the city through the corrupted fog he felt an eerie unease, like his instincts warning of the great danger of that place.
This must have been an elven city once, it was obvious by the architecture and luminous stones, but Leor could not even begin to guess at what lost civilization had created this place. It all lay abandoned and lifeless in total silence in the darkness of the night, completely surrounded by flowing oceans of corruption. All except for the towering abomination of twisting darkness that rose from the city's center. A black tower that looked like it was made of interconnecting webs of darkness. Incredibly out of place in an elven city.
The tower at the city's center was monstrously vast, dwarfing even the great hill on which Leor stood. It loomed like a cancer at the heart of the ruins, its colossal crown split open into a gaping maw a mile wide, from which endless corruption poured into the sky.
Leor's eyes widened as the truth struck him, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. The tower was venting corruption into the sky. It was thickening the corruption in the sky artificially!
That tinge of hope was enough to spark a flame of desire in Leor's chest, he could feel his will strengthening as he immediately began moving down the slope of the great hill. Even after a few minutes, he could already feel the oppressive corruption in the air becoming thinner! Because of the nature of the corruption released by the smokestack, it was much thicker towards the top of the hill. Behaving as a cloud would behave, it rose into the sky.
This realm was still far beyond anything an initiate should face, yet it might not be as hopeless as he first feared. He could never survive a clash with the powerful creatures that surely roamed here, but perhaps he could stay hidden long enough to find a place below where the corruption thinned enough to open a portal home.
"Maybe I can-"
Leor's words died in his throat, hope smothering in his chest as movement flickered on the hillside. He froze, staring as a massive, slithering form slid from the shadow of a nearby boulder.