Descendance (3)

The Embers, night time:

A woman was carrying Vars body through the desert. She stumbled at every step.

Her long dress grabbing at her ankles.

"Huff.", her stamina wouldn't hold out much longer.

******

The Embers, one hour prior:

A bright light flashed throughout the desert. It faded leaving a woman in its place of origin, right in the centre of where the magic circle used to be.

Her name was Dutti and she was mesmerized by the scenery. She was right at the edge of a desert.

A clean cut was separating the sand from the grass. A green landscape stretched out behind the desert.

Her eyes widened with fear. She knew were she was all too well.

Clinging desperately onto her fountain pen, the only thing she brought from her home world.

Dutti was inside of her very own game.

She felt tears welling up inside of her, when her eyes saw Var's cold body.

-Why did he have to die, of all people.-

Her trembling hands reached out towards Var's chest.

But she could no longer feel his warmth, neither hear the sound of his steadily beating heart.

Her favourite character was dead.

******

The Archmage's study, night time:

For the first time in 657 years Vendetta could not fall asleep.

She had her eyes closed, reminiscing about the past. Back then she was travelling all over the empire. There were so many things she didn't yet know, so much to discover.

Her curiosity could never be satisfied, until Vendetta found herself confronted with the Barrier of the Embers.

She remembered feeling helpless and pathetic. No matter what magic formula she used, no matter how many knowledge she acquired and magic theories she read; in the end she couldn't conquer the wall.

Her knowledge would forever remain imperfect.

She slowly opened her eyelids and scoffed at her pathetic past self.

Vendetta tried so desperately to reach the world beyond the empire. Putting all her effort into breaking that damn barrier.

And now a mere boy, who wasn't even a century old, was able to accomplish something she couldn't.

An unfamiliar feeling was making its way to Vendetta's heart.

Inferiority.

And once again, 657 years after Vendetta's greatest failure, the fire of curiosity was flaring in her eyes.

******

The Emperor's Office, two weeks ago:

Cyrim was sitting behind his desk and silently staring at the man in front of him.

The Emperor had never seen him in person, but he knew from the letter's they had exchanged that Var was an unpredictable variable with nothing to loose.

Var's ember eyes met with Cyrim's brown. The two colour's seemingly clashing in the air between them.

"What have you come here for.", The Emperor's voice was as quiet as a whisper, but filled with authority and elegance. There was no one like him.

"I have come to tell your Majesty my farewell."