Aerdrin: The Lost Heir of The Sky

[The last night of Edessia has come. The wintry night perished. The ocean of stars banished. The singing fairies vanished. All that's left is nothing but screams of pain and terrors under a dark-shrouded sky. This is a night which no man of sky dares to remember.]

In fluttering tempest, he makes haste. In a fiery rage, he makes quest. After five thousand years ensnared in a timeless agony, the imagery of his arch-enemy still lingers strongly within his memory. The clouds are torn by the swiftness of the raven black and barbed wings. Heavy and impenetrable as Ildirium, the dust and ice that is clattering against his hide will find themselves like nothing but a candle clashed with a knife.

" For centuries I have slumbered, in untold nightmares of desolation. "

" You must have perished long before my awakening, impudent mortal. "

Sargaroth flies towards the floating sky island. To the highest peak of Aerdrin, he soars, only to quench his thirst for revenge. There is nothing that can hinder him, his eyes see through every iron and stone, while his mind reveals every purpose and fabrication.

" Noble as I am, yet the price of such betrayal has to be paid. Either by you, or your blood. Now you may rue in your formless existence, Lorentheus the love-child! "

Within the High Chamber, the king of Edessia, Halius the Gallant summoned all of his lords, ministers, and every important personage in response to the sudden flame and tremor in the northern part of the realm. Gatherings upon the great hall of the sky kingdom Edessia is a must, considering that they know nothing but the stench of primordial malice that defiles the graceful wind of their homeland. Emergency action has been taken, dozens of guards were sent to investigate, All were the most swift, the most experienced, the most competent. Yet full of accomplishment as they are, but none of them has returned.

In the neck-choking atmosphere, he sits, shaking his legs, waiting for his subordinate’s return. There's no mead nor wine that could soothe his anxiety for he desires nothing but to apprehend the bane that lurks under the shadow of night.

" The scouting party has returned, Your Majesty! "

At last, the long-awaited word has presented itself before the king. However, the sounds of the footsteps were peculiar, it's not as noisy as the time they headed out for the task.

Just as they all feared, among the thirty lads, only one 'survived'; half of his body was melted along with his armor, barely clinging to his life with the aid of magic and analgesic. It takes his all to breathe, let alone to speak. Jana The Grand Sorceress immediately casts multiple restoration magic, ensuring the injured lad could bring enlightenment amidst the confusion of the council of the High Chamber.

" It's... a powerful monster. It's wing... so broad, like our walls...

..Its body... as if the northern keep itself is coming towards us...! and... and... the eyes...!

t-those evil eyes...! "

His throat chokes as if his lungs are going to burst out had he not being careful. The grand sorceress, on the other hand, turns pale and began to limp as such heavy magic will surely take its toll.

" We have tried everything... swords, axes... spears... magic... all to no avail. We... have failed you... Y-Your Majesty... "

" Give his family twice the amount of the usual, for he has done a great service to our cause "

With his dying breath, he stands true to his duty. The king cannot do much but ensuring his family gets the death gratuity. Although normally a toast and rites to honor such valiant death are supposed to be held, yet there is not even a time to mourn, let alone for a grandeur. Every single living soul inside the High Chamber turns silent. They are staring at each other like a deer to a river until an old figure stood up and taking the stage for himself.

" 'When the last Sun of the winged land has returned to its rest, the beast of old shall taint the sacred ground. That day, darkness will come, along with the mist of the forgotten past.' Article number 22, Codex of The Rising. The sight that we are beholding in this very second, is neatly recorded in the archives of our forefathers. "

It is to be expected from Eremir of the Elders faction, to be so straightforward and involves The Teaching in any given chance. As for the others, they all truly aware of the prophecy for it is elementary. Yet none of them have the guts to spit it into the table, for they've known that since the death of their queen, King Halius doesn't seem to be so fond of such matter.

" I'm sure it's already known to us that you have genuinely realized what we are facing, Your Majesty. "

" A colossal fiend that rules the sky with its broad-majestic wings, laying waste to whatever lies beneath the two in ineffable might. They come with a force powerful enough to bend nature to its will... The ripples have come long before the very wave itself. I beg you to cast aside the scar of your past, Your Majesty... For if we are to choose the wrong path, there won’t ever be a chance to turn the other way around. "

The king glared at Eremir. His fist clenched and his teeth gritted, those are clear corporeal signs that no one wanted to see them coming from the most powerful man in the kingdom. All heads turned to their knees, steering clear of the scornful eyes of their liege.

" The last time I turned myself on such shameful superstition... a loving, gentle soul died an excruciating death. By her name, never shall I forget the dread, never shall I forget the regret. "

" I, myself, will lead the Silver Legion. "

The council mutters to each other. As for the warlords and their captains, clear and steel are the king's words. Therefore, they make haste to prepare a march, subservient as they should be. But when all seems to be already decided, Eremir suddenly slams the table.

" Long I have been waiting for you to overcome Ruana's death, son of Isalius! To be bested by mourn and keep straying away from the path of light!? Is there no end to your insult towards The Teaching...!? How low you have fallen from your grace! "

The king rose from his throne, so is everyone as to respond. His long-wavy white hair gracefully falls from his broad-stout shoulder. His diadem shines, rivaled only by no other than the glitters of the 'Starfall sapphire' in his royal pendant. Like a cherry on top of a cake, all of his splendors beautified by the glistening light of the chandeliers. He undoubtedly has the appearance of a king.

Elegant as he appears to be, but the fire in his eyes burns to the very core of all that lies before its sight. Enraged and maddened he walks down the throne.

" Come, Faelmir. "

The ring in his right index turns into liquid and reshapes itself into a sword. Faelmir itself is not a mere sword. It's one of the Seven Wisdom, a series of weapon which harbors great power that is used to be wielded by Lords of The Alliance, back in the Third Age.

Faelmir itself is the true name of "Winter Light", a double-edged rapier colored in absolute white from its tip down 'till its end. It's also adorned with an ornament of a horned griffin's head at its marbled hilt. One might present all the sword in the world, but to those who have witnessed the marvelous elegance of Faelmir shall found it hard to be impressed by any other.

King Halius approach Eremir, ready to personally deliver his wrath with The Winter Light in his hand.