1 Exile (1)

A procession of carriages rode under the bright moon. The loud tones of the galloping of the horses resounded through the night, and the occasional urging on of the riders to their mounts could be heard amidst the darkness.

Tall dark trees loomed up on either side, but the novelty of a forest an night didn't faze the riders. They had all seen much worse.

Although the casual observer wouldn't have noticed, the horses were riding in tight formation. The brilliance of this formation immediately revealed the skill of the riders. No matter the terrain, not a single mount went an inch out of place.

The speed at which the riders executed this feat too was an indicator of their level of skill. These men were surely at the epitome of mankind.

At the direct centre of this formation, was a cage. It was pulled on by two horses, who's rider kept glancing back nervously, not to check behind the procession, but to check the cage.

At every jump and dip on the path, the cage clattered, and all turned to face the cage, with fear scrawled across their hooded faces.

However, the situation in the cage was entirely different. At the far corner of the cage lay a man. He wore a black hood with red lining, and he reclined with his hands behind his head, seemingly asleep.

It seemed an oasis of calm. But if one was to look closely, thick chains extended from the man's wrists and ankles to the corners of the cage. A chain was coiled around his body, preventing body movement.

In fact, it was a mystery as to how he had managed to get into that position in the first place.

Exactly two meters ahead of the formation rode a man. This man wore a clean white robe, and had jet black hair. If observer would wonder, how did such a robe remain spotless after riding at such speed through such terrain? However, if the observer looked closely, each of the black robes of the riders were also devoid of stain.

Of course there were no such observers. The man in front had made sure of that.

---

The horses suddenly ground to a halt. This was the destination.

The forestry scene of before was nowhere to be seen. The procession had long left that area, and had halted hundreds of miles away, in the middle of a desert. The night had long gone, and the sun was now high in the air.

How the riders had managed this feat? Such knowledge was privy only to them and them alone.

The white robed rider slowly but elegantly got off his mount. He looked at the sight that greeted his eyes, with reverence.

The procession had halted in front of two stone monoliths.

These monoliths were as black as night, and were immensely tall. They were carved intricately, with epic imaging and profound quotes from a language long forgotten.

That is, they were long forgotten by Mortals. The white robed man, however, was no Mortal.

He stood there between the two towers, gazing upwards, his eyes darting across the inscriptions on the rock.

After what seemed like hours, the man finally tore his gaze off the monoliths with an air of finality.

By this time, the riders had managed to extract the prisoner from his cage. Despite being held with chains from all directions, the man sat relaxedly on the sand.

The white robed man walked across the sand to the prisoner. His steps were soundless, and not a grain of sand was displaced by his steps.

He stopped in front of the man, and looked him in the eye. He then sighed wearily.

"I'm sorr-"

"No worries."

The prisoner interrupted the man. His voice was cheerful, as if he was having a conversation with a friend at his home.

The white robed man sighed again, his eyes laden with guilt. He hesitated for a moment, before finding his resolve. He extended two fingers, and moved them towards the prisoner's forehead.

His fingers were imbued with a mysterious power, and shone a gold colour. Just before they were about to make contact, his hand faltered again.

It wasn't too late right? All could be undone.

The riders watched on wearily. They were supervisors for this man as well as being guards for the prisoner. They were weaker than him, but they reported back to the highest authority.

The white robed man looked at them for a moment. Then he grimaced, before grimly realising that he had no choice in the matter. Therefore he pushed his trembling fingers forward.

There was a flash. Suddenly, emerging from between the monoliths, was a white light. It descended slowly before meeting the forehead of the prisoner.

The prisoner felt no fear. In fact, he looked up and smiled at the descending light.

There was another flash, and the white robed man turned away from the light.

It lasted for but a moment, but to the white robed man, it felt like days had passed before the light died down.

He turned back to the man, his eyes full of sorrow, pity and most of all, guilt.

The prisoner looked at him. His face was expressionless, but his eyes smiled at him. He didn't blame the white robed man.

The white robed man turned away, rushed towards his horse, before riding away. The riders swiftly followed on behind.

The prisoner watched them leave, a complex expression on his face. He then lifted up his hand as a gesture of farewell, despite knowing that the man wouldn't turn back.

Just before the prisoner vanished from sight, a gleaming white gate of ethereal light appeared in front of the cage-less procession. The white robed man looked up at the door, before rushing through first. The riders, struggling to catch up, entered a minute later.

The door vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

In the realm behind the door, unseen by all, a tear dripped from the white robed man's face. It was understandable. He had just lost a brother.