The Storm
'Is this a joke Sol?' Is what he was thinking as he stared disbelievingly at the body of a dead woman that lay in the snow before him. There was no doubt, even though the divine vision that was lent to him had faltered just before he reached the target. This was it. This was what the Angels showed him. It took a mighty effort, even for him, to push through the Herculean stormwinds to pursue the object that the Deities revealed to him. And although a corpse was not what he expected to see, Sol' Ra still risked his neck to bring him here, so this deceased woman must be of some importance.
From the thick braids of brown hair, to the bulging muscles that made up her enormous body, it was obvious that she was a viking. The Risean wore a basic leather chestplate and thick clothing made of animal hide. The grey, fur cloak on her back had a collection of bloodstained claw marks on it, exposing her torn flesh. The trail of blood she left was more or less covered by the snowstorm, but from the looks of it, she had been crawling for quite some time. Pushing against the blistering winds he moved closer to the body and knelt down next to it, to examine the woman. The two horned helmet of legend that the Vikings so infamously wore had slipped off her head, presumably when she died, and made her face visible.
Taking a closer look, her lips were unfrozen, and the color was normal. He cautiously took the dead Risean's hand in his and realized that her body was warm to the touch, all the way up to her fingertips. The deathly coldness of the wintry hellscape didn't bother her in the slightest, she simply succumbed to her wounds. But a couple measly slash marks like these could not possibly be enough to take down a Viking. Which means… Kingston flipped over the body to reveal her utterly mauled frontside, bite marks and claw marks cut deep into her legs and the parts of her stomach that were not protected by armor. But something was off, assuming she was dead, which on all accounts she should be, why was her body still so warm? If you ignored the bloodstained snow and the deep, gashing wounds on her body, it would have looked like she was only sleeping. But she was dead, so whatever rune or whatever power that enabled her to walk around the perilous tundra unaffected should have stopped working long ago. But as he held her hand once more, they didn't feel like the hands of a corpse.
What was even more puzzling though, was that the attackers.. Or more accurately, the predators were nowhere to be found. These marks were clearly made by an animal, most likely quadruped with strong jaws… and he was certain that there were many of them. Judging from the patterns of the lacerations, the different angles and spots they were inflicted upon, the safest guess would be a pack of wolves. But that wouldn't make sense, what predator maims its prey to death then just leaves? Though it wouldn't be outrageous for animals to hunt and evolve differently in this arctic world. Even still, these abrasions were ridiculously large, large enough to convince him that this may have been repeated attacks from a bear. And for a pack of wolves to take down a Risean Viking? There was no way in hell that these were simple beasts.
So what did that make this situation? Was she bait? Or did the pack sustain injuries so grave that they had to abandon their hunt? Or maybe… bringing his hand to her mouth area, the tiny puffs of warm air sent chills up his arm. The stubborn ox was still alive. But of course she was, this was a Viking, it was his mistake to think of her as a regular human being. But if she was alive then…
His eyes gravitated to the faded trail of blood that stretched out into the storm, beyond the distance of what his vision could reach. Then, within the glacial tempest, appeared a pair of hungry blue eyes. Hawking him down. The color was so brilliantly bright that it shone through the blinding polar winds. At first, Kingston was almost sure that he was hallucinating, the position of its eyes just didn't make sense. Why was its head nearly level with his? Slowly he rose, his gaze never leaving the beast in the storm. He didn't want to believe it, but as he fully stood up, the thick, white mane emerged from the roaring blizzard. The animal cautiously stalked towards him, the dense fur that protected its neck was like a lion's, its enormous size rivaled a moose's, and its terrifyingly long claws were comparable to a large bear's. Yet as it strode towards him, it was undoubtedly… 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟.
A low growl pierced through the deafening gales as the beast bared its fangs, revealing the bloody red that painted its teeth. As it neared, another pair of eyes opened from inside the blizzard. Then another. Then another, then another, and another. They had fully circled him using the camouflage of the storm. The particles of magium that were laced into every aspect of this environment, plus their arctic white fur that was akin to Risea's landscape made it impossible for Kingston to detect the pack. Even though they crept on all fours, they were each almost as tall as he was. Looking at the various patches of ruffled fur, painted in blood that was partly their own… and partly not, it seemed like the Viking put up quite the fight. Which should have been enough to dissuade a wolf hunt.
But here they were, relentlessly advancing on Kingston, despite him showing no signs of fear. So not only was their physiological evolution entirely different from their cousins in the south. Their psychology was also completely unalike. They did not share the same instincts, they did not possess the same tendencies. They stalked a prey much stronger than they were, and even with the extreme resistance the viking showed, they were willing to engage in a full fledged, frontal assault. Injuring her to near death, and instead of finishing her off, they kept their distance and waited for the prey to succumb to its wounds.
This irregular behavior was dangerous, It was unpredictable. It was something that not even Kingston could prepare for. One of the laws of survival that all creatures of the earth must obey, evolution. When an animal is born into a domain as poisonous as The Polar North, its surroundings act as a vicious filter, letting only the species that could evolve and adapt to the environment survive. So after years of weeding out the weak genera, the result was a fatal wasteland of ice and snow, inhabited by the most murderous animals that were yet to be discovered. He would soon find out, if he made a grave mistake of underestimating the lethal environment of Risea.
Black mist mixed with white snow, the dark wisps of his runic essence swirled up his arms. The sable curls slipped off of his fingertips, swept up into the air by the chaotic blizzard that surrounded him. He counted six of them. All similar in size and presumably strength. The fabled stories of Risea's monsters could not have been more inaccurate. He couldn't believe it but… the legends of the polar north's lightning wolves were actually watered down. It wasn't just their colossal size, each of them had enough magian essence to dwarf an even Apex mage's reserves. How was an animal able to acquire runic energy? In an instant, one of the wolves lunged at him, slashing at his chest. Kingston was able to dodge the attack by simply stepping backwards. And he would have avoided the attack completely… but as its nails streaked by him, a wave of lighting surged out of its claws, striking his chest.
The blast caused him to stagger backwards in shock, the electric smoke that rose from his seared clothing confirmed what he had just witnessed. These wolves… had runes. All at once the pack pounced on him, a flurry of lightning quick slashes and biting all missed him by just a hair. Ripples of electricity blackened the snow beneath them as the ferocious attack continued. Much to his displeasure, Kingston was on the defensive, each strike he dodged was surely lethal, and in spite of their monstrous size, they were fast. Incredibly fast. But they were animals after all, there was no technique or strategy and all of their attacks were telegraphed and easy to avoid. It was an all out, neverending blitz.
Sporadic blasts of blue lightning came at random whenever the wolves swung their claws at him, each time they lunged and missed, the landing would shake the ground nearby his feet. Unlike regular wolves, there was no elegance or cohesion in their hunt. Again and again they would pounce at him with their endless stamina and gnash their teeth as they missed him. Finally deciding to strike back, Kingston slipped under one of the beasts and instantly shot his arm upwards, increasing the density of his fist while simultaneously decreasing its weight. Turning a simple punch into a lightning quick attack with the force of a falling building, all focused into one point. He fully expected his arm to impale the animal, but instead it felt like he had just punched a solid stone wall. Other than being thrown off balance midair, the wolf didn't even react.
Shit. Usually, densifying a small point on his hand was enough to cut through his enemies, but giant arctic wolf hide was obviously thicker than human flesh. Still, he put quite a bit of force into that punch, yet the wolf wasn't harmed in the slightest. This encounter alone was enough for these animals to be considered stronger than the Priesthood of Apostles and maybe even stronger than Primordial sorcerers. "I see." The Shepherd murmured. These beasts must have evolved after the War of the North. When the Ten Pillars withdrew their forces from Risea. In their absence the land evolved. The relentless storm fostered a race of wolves stronger than their own mages, unbeknownst to them. Risean Wolves. He had anticipated the lands of Risea would be perilous… but these animals exceeded even those expectations.
Darkness crept into his eyes and flooded into his runes, the plentiful essence billowed out of his markings, coalescing into clouds of black mist. Everytime he called on his power, there was always an unfamiliar shadow that seemed to be disturbed by his summons. That baleful feeling in his chest was recognizable, yet foreign. Familiar, yet unfamiliar. The more he used his powers, the more it began to bother him. It was as though an omen of darkness was always watching him, making its presence known each time he invoked his runes. To tell the truth, sometimes, the same feeling it induced on his enemies… it also induced in him. An all consuming fear that started from within his soul, he felt the blackness, he felt the oblivion. There was something inside it, and he became more certain of it each time he felt it. An unempty void, a formless shadow, an inexistant wisp. The wolves suddenly ceased their attack, and backed away from the billows of mist. Snarling defiantly as they lowered their heads, circling around the Shepherd.
It is said, that a wolf can sense your fear. It breathes in your anxiety, it stalks out your hesitance, it 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐬 on your dread. Once you turn your back towards them, you forfeit your life. But wolves are not the only creatures to evolve this perception, just as sharks can smell blood, and wolves can sense fear, every creature, every beast, and every critter… All have this evolutionary attribute. The primal instinct passed onto them by their ancestors, the native impulse that has survived their kind to this day, the sense of a predator that recognizes its prey, and the prey that recognizes its predator. In Risea, there is no Apex Predator, the food chain is not a descending order, but straight and linear. In this land, there are no prey. Only Predators.
And for the first time, these wolves felt a fear. That was their own. For the first time, their impulses urged them to retreat. For animals only possessed enough intelligence to obey their instincts, and right now, their instincts told them that there was no prey here. Only 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉. The foreboding darkness that crept out of his runes stilled the storm around them, the blistering winds were reduced to a paralyzed silence. Ghastly tendrils of oblivion slithered across the snow. The Risean wolves pawed nervously at the approaching mist, whining in frustration as fear pushed them back.
Due to the environment they evolved in, they were more so lone hunters than pack wolves. Occasionally they would share a hunt, but there was no hierarchy in their group. No societal structure to their pack. Without any sense of loyalty, arctic wolves would oftentimes fight each other to the death over meals. The ones that recognized the greater predator scruffed irritatedly and scampered away. One by one the beasts retreated away from the abyss, leaving Kingston to the silence of the stormless snowscape. Murky remnants of his half evoked dominion lingered in the air. Who would have thought? That a simple pack of Risean wolves were almost enough for him to seriously use his runes? If the wildlife here was that threatening, how much more were its owners?
Suddenly, the viking woman broke out into a fit of coughing and retching, reminding Kingston of her presence. Her life threatening wounds had miraculously healed, the lacerations had stopped bleeding and she was able to breathe without fear of aggravating the tears. Still, it took her a great amount of effort to lift her torso up off the snow, propping herself up on her two hands. "Damned old man." She spat out blood. "You're getting weak." The accent in her speech was extremely weak, contrary to what Kingston thought it should have been. He assumed that the further north they were, the stronger the tone, but hers was almost unnoticeable. Exhaustedly she brought herself up onto one knee, trembling as she tried to support her bodyweight. From what he had heard, vikings were violently territorial and indiscriminately ruthless. Despite her critical condition, he braced himself, prepared to end her in an instant should she force his hand. Slowly the woman raised her head to look at the foreigner that defeated a pack of arctic stormwolves without even lifting a finger. A pair of piercing blue eyes stared at him in between strands of dirty blonde hair, wet with blood and snow. "Outsider…" she huffed painfully, clutching her wounded stomach with her hand. "The storm clouds." She winced. "Are they gone completely?" Blood began to seep through her fingertips as she collapsed to the floor from her kneeling position. He wasn't sure if the woman was asking him, or if she was still mumbling to herself, but he answered anyway. "The clouds have dispersed and the skies are clear. Another storm will not be forming anytime soon." Kneeling down next to the RIsean, he inspected her wounds. The electrifying blue that faintly shimmered inside the slashes confirmed his suspicions of the rune possessing wolves. Somehow, magian energy became toxic when wielded by these Risean wolves. Only Apex level healers were capable of reversing grave injuries, so the poisonous wolf magic was yet but another nail in the coffin. Unfortunately, Kingston wouldn't even be able to attempt to save her. What a shame, if only Sol' Ra brought him to her earlier, they might have been able to actually find what they were looking for.
"Ergi." She cursed in her native tongue. The Risean began to shiver slightly from the cold, grabbing a handful of snow in pain. So she wasn't invulnerable to the cold. How was she completely fine in that arctic storm then? Everything about this situation was off, how did a pack of wolves nearly kill a viking? Why was she completely unaffected by the supernatural blizzard? And why did her godlike healing power suddenly stop working? Her back rose and fell with each agonizing breath she took. The snow around her body began to stain in a crimson red as she slowly bled out, facefirst into the ground. The current predicament was probably also unusual for the Risean. No foreigner has set foot into Risea since the aftermath of the Northern War, and here he was, emptily gazing at her as she bled out in the snow. She'd never interacted with southern folk before, were they all this cold?
"Outsider." She panted. "A… little girl. Will come looking for me." Her eyelids drooped tiredly as she fought to stay awake. "Help her… home… please… Storm… gone… they will… come." She mumbled clumsily before slipping into unconsciousness.
The absence of the storm brought on an eerie stillness that was somehow more unsettling than the arctic winds themselves. After confirming that the viking's pulse was stable, and that her magian signature was still adequate enough to sustain life for now, he looked around the barren landscape for any signs of this "little girl" she was talking about. Of course he couldn't see her, why was he listening to this Risean anyways? She was simply a stranger who happened to be dying in front of him. He had no obligation to help her. But wasn't this woman too peculiar? It might have been just him, but she seemed disappointed when he told her that the storm had passed completely. This only added on to his prior suspicions, on why a viking was out in this storm in the first place. Still, she was right, without the cover of the storm, they were completely exposed to any viking attacks.
Four familiar runic presences approached him from behind, Gaius, Rekken, Isolda and Theodore had immediately left the cave to find Kingston as soon as the storm ended. Their approach slowed as the dying Risean came into view. Cautiously inching closer to the body Gaius commented, "This is the first encounter the world has had with Risea since the War, and… you killed her?"
"Don't sound so offended you bonehead, that woman is a viking, she probably tried to decapitate Kingston as soon as she saw him." Theodore gingerly paced around the woman, inspecting her body.
"A Risean Viking…" Rekken murmured in awe.
"It can't be…" Isolda knelt down beside the woman, scanning her body intensely.
"What is it?" Kingston asked.
"These wounds… they have been healed." She spoke as she scrutinized the slash marks.
"Yes, she healed quite quickly actually."
"That is not what troubles me, it is the method of healing." Reaching out her hand, she touched the wounds, feeling the edges of the torn flesh on the Viking's stomach area. "It is crude and rudimentary, but there is no doubt. This is the healing technique of the Grand Disciples." The same thought crossed all of their minds at that moment. The Priesthood of Disciples were in Risea? No, that conclusion is too sudden, it was only a technique after all, however coveted it may be, it could have ended up in Risea without their presence. But then… how did a Viking learn this healing?
"This pattern…" The priestess' eyes shone brightly as she looked deep into the runic essence of the wounds. "The healing was not self applied. Someone else used this magic on her."
"But there is no one else… here…" Kingston's voice trailed off as the dots slowly began to connect in his head.
"What is it?" Theodore said, noticing the storm of thoughts that clouded the Legacy's face.
It all made sense, the unnaturally powerful storm, the runic presence in the abnormally large and violent wolves, why the Viking woman was unaffected by the storm. The first expedition into Risea two years ago, led by the Ezurans. What was lost but more importantly… what was left behind. Maas Osborn, the stormbringer. There were still many gaps of information to fill, but considering the already atypical environment of Risea… anything was possible. "I have a-" Before Kingston could share his knowledge with the group, a childish voice timidly interrupted him, "He- Helloh?" Every single one of them spun around in shock, staring wide eyed at the sight of a small girl, trudging through the snow towards them.
"Sister? Where are you? I can't see…" The Risean child wore a black blindfold around her eyes, but she didn't look like she was wandering blindly around the land. The only thing that was more shocking than how he completely hid her magian signature from a Shepherd and four Elite mages, was how a little girl such as this was able to navigate the miles of frozen tundra all on her own. She was either ignoring the presence of the five outlanders, or she was unaware of their existence altogether as she plodded closer to the Viking woman, walking past them. "Uncle Mass fell asleep. He said I have to bring you back or else we'll be in trouble- ah!" The girl tripped over her feet, falling into the snow.
"Mmnn…" She whined. "The sun is too bright!" Sliding the blindfold off her face she began to rub her eyes incessantly. After she was satisfied she stared ahead and blinked several times. 'Her eyes look just like Isolda's' they all thought. Except her pupil was still visible, just barely. Her eyes along with her white hair would have been enough to convince them that this was a baby Riftwalker if it weren't for her blindness. When she stood up, she began to veer off course, walking away from her sister rather than towards her.
Then, as if she suddenly regained her sight, she corrected her path, an innocent grin grew across her face as she spotted her sister, "Yufa!" She beamed. Theodore raised a brow, certain that she was pronouncing her name wrong. Happily, she waddled closer to the still unconscious Viking. When the little girl reached her she frowned, "Yufa is also sleeping." The Risean child giggled as she moved the wet strands of hair off the woman's face. She didn't seem to notice the blood underneath, as a matter of fact, she didn't seem to notice anything at all. She was definitely able to perceive her surroundings to some degree, she would have died long ago if she wasn't able to. But her "sight" was inconsistent and shotty. She couldn't detect the presence of five mages directly in front of her, and she couldn't really see in general. Yet she was still able to navigate around the Risean wasteland.
"Kingston." Isolda whispered urgently. Silently he turned towards her. "This girl. She has no magian presence. That or she is able to conceal her signature from me completely." Kingston had taken note of it already, how this girl was able to approach them without any of the five strangers being able to detect her at all. But that was the least among the plethora of mysteries surrounding the child. Like what in god's name was she fiddling with underneath the viking woman's cloak? "Yufaaa." She whined. "Stop sleeping."
Slowly, the Risean began to wake, her eyes fluttered open as she regained consciousness. "Yufa!" The child's sudden outburst awakened her fully. "SIbbe!" She exclaimed. "How did you…" The woman's voice trailed off. Painfully she pushed herself onto her knees and pulled something out from underneath her cloak. A thick, luminescent thread that was wrapped around her waist. Pulling the string upwards, the rest of its glowing fibers broke through the snow, extending as far as their eyes could see. It must be some kind of special thread that connected her to her home if she ever got lost. But more blood seemed to drain from her already pale face when she realized what she was holding.
"No…" The viking willed herself up onto her feet, trembling as she tried to maintain her balance. "What's wrong systir?" The little girl asked. "Sibbe." The woman paused, noticing that four other outsiders had joined Kingston's side. She absolutely knew that the appearance of foreigners in these lands was impossibly irregular, and by no means did she trust these people. But at the moment, she had no choice but to roll the dice and rely on these strangers. "Come." The little girl held onto a piece of her sister's cloak and followed her as she limped towards Kingston. The five of them had been observing the entire time, not saying a word or moving a muscle. It was like discovering a new species of dragons for the first time. A Legendary Viking in the flesh. Instinctively, Kingston took a step forward to help the wounded Risean. "I can walk." She rejected him firmly. "Of course you can! Yufa is being weird." SIbbe giggled. The woman tilted her head and frowned at her sister's odd remark. "It seems like she cannot see us." The Legacy finally spoke.
"Eek!" The little girl grabbed onto Yufa with both hands. "I heard a man!" She warned as she hid herself behind her sister's cloak. "Sibbe. You can't see him?" The woman asked with heavy concern. "See who?" The child peeked at them from behind Yufa, squinting and rubbing her eyes, trying to see the man her sister was talking about. "I can't, the sun is too bright." She complained as she pulled the blindfold around her eyes again. The sun had not been visible ever since they entered Ezura, and it sure as hell shouldn't be visible to a blind girl. But the viking looked like she had an idea of what the little girl meant, smiling warmly at her sibling. "I see." The woman glanced at Kingston warily. "I do not know why you have come to Risea." The runes on her body hummed to life, painting her arm in an electric blue glow. The runic string that was tied to her waist gleamed radiantly, revealing a vividly bright line of thread beneath the snow that seemed to lead them further into the polar north. "But without the storm, anyone who is not a viking. Is prey."
The Risean warned them as she hobbled past, following the strung line that was glowing in the same colour as her runes. "I do not want to bring you to my home. But you saved my life. I will at least help you survive this day." Any ulterior motives or emotions she might have had were hidden behind her mild, nordic accent and monotone voice. The little girl spun her head around repeatedly, straining to see any other people aside from her sister. "Who is Yufa talking to?" She tugged on the VIking's clothing. The woman looked down at Sibbe worriedly, but said nothing.
Kingston and his group followed slowly behind the two Riseans, keeping their distance. Gaius and Theodore were the most concerned, the doubt was clear in their eyes. As always, Gaius was the first to express his worries to the Legacy. "I do not think it is wise to follow this viking farther into her motherland."
"Wounded or not, she is still a Risean." Theodore agreed.
"What could have possibly done that to a person like her…" Rekken thought aloud.
"I don't think this woman is a regular viking." Kingston answered.
Gaius frowned at his response, "How do you mean?"
"Well first of all… she is an exile."
"... How… would you know that exactly?" Theodore blinked amusedly.
"The little girl is blind. And the woman is crippled." At first he thought her one sided movements were due to her injuries, but the longer they walked behind her, the more his suspicions grew. It made sense after all, she was clearly afraid of the other Vikings. Stating multiple times that without the cover of the storm, 'they' would come. That, and the fact that the storm was all her or her allies' doing. An abnormal blizzard fused with magian essence that forced the other VIking tribes back into their villages, allowing Yufa to go forage and gather whatever she needed to without the risk of being found by the others.
But more importantly, he guessed that the man helping her was Maas Osborn, Ezura's Stormbringer whose body was never found. "These people are more beast than man. Their culture, traditions, and law are all based upon their hierarchy of power. Their King is Power, their God is strength, and their Queen is might. Power… is the only language they know. Defected children and crippled warriors are cast away or killed. It is considered a mercy for incapacitated vikings to be put out of their misery." He didn't need to read a book to know all this. This is just how humans are.
The Riseans were a primitive tribe, isolated from the rest of the world and thus making them highly underdeveloped and ancient. And so inevitably, they adopted the ways of early humans. The rest of their trek was silent, the constant threat of being discovered by other Vikings kept all of them on their toes. Gaius was looking ahead, making sure that Yufa wasn't leading them to a Viking Stronghold, while the others were a mix of anxiety and admiration.
In the absence of the storm, Risea's landscape was actually quite beautiful. It was definitely a view you wouldn't be able to get anywhere else. A perfectly white desert, untouched by mankind. The mostly flat terrain was riddled with oddly shaped hills that were most likely former mountains. At a certain height, the winds produced by the storms were so fierce that it literally reshaped the landscape, snapping mountains in half and eroding the exposed surface over time. The perilous blizzard was more than enough to dissuade the other viking tribes from venturing out of their villages and enough to keep the Risean beasts at bay. Which was why Yufa was caught so off guard when she ran into the wolf pack, ultimately leading to her sustaining grave injuries.
Every once in a while, Sibbe would glance behind her. She was sure that she could hear footsteps crunching in the snow, but she still could not see a thing. As they followed the Viking deeper into Risea, they noticed the scenery around them beginning to change. To say that this part of the land was absolutely different from the rest of Risea was a harsh understatement. This place was a completely different world entirely. Compared to the barren and lifeless seas of snow they had just come from, the view before them was like… 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦.
The five outsiders couldn't believe what they were seeing. How could a place like this exist inside a frozen hell? "It's beautiful." Rekken breathed in awe. It truly was. Before today, none of them could have ever imagined that there was a utopia such as this in Risea. At first, their eyes doubted what they were seeing, but as they traveled further in, the evidence became undeniable. Trees. There were trees, tall and strong. There was a forest full of them. A forest within the polar north. Of course, they weren't normal trees. Their bark was white as snow, and so were their leaves. A husk of hares scampered around the thick roots that dug into the everlasting tundra. "My God…" Theodore said disbelievingly. "They bear fruit."
The entire group turned their heads to where Theo was, every one of them besides Kingston all had the same look of utter astonishment. He was right, apples as red as a rose and as round as the sun. Dozens of them. "Look!" Rekken exclaimed. "There's more!" The mages bounced from tree to tree, full of wonder and excitement. Yufa entered the arctic forest, Sibbe following behind her. She leaned against the bark to catch her breath as the five outsiders reveled in the northern Oasis. "We are the first of our people to witness this." Gaius commented astoundedly.
At some point, no words they could speak were able to describe what they were seeing. They simply watched in awe as herds of brilliant white elk trotted through the forest, skulks of small foxes casually foraged in front of them, undisturbed by the presence of humans. "It is amazing, isn't it?" The Viking smiled slightly. "These animals know no fear. This part of Risea is so untouched, untainted by our kind, that there is nothing here but peace." Her previously exhausted eyes were now sparkling with admiration. "There is no blood beneath the snow, there is no evil, no malice, no murder, no… humans…" Sliding down the tree she was leaning against she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Just… serenity." Her tone began to soften as she spoke, "Purity." Her voice was now just a whisper, "Peace…" The Risean's respect and deep appreciation for the environment around her made the others feel a little guilty. Like they were standing on sacred ground, tainting the sanctity of paradise with their scent.
Even Kingston had to admit, the existence of this place was a miracle in itself, but how was it that the other tribes had never been here before? He couldn't help but think, how the chances of this place being discovered had increased tenfold due to their being here. And he knew all too well what would become of this paradise once people get their hands on it. They would plunder it all until there was nothing left. Thoughtlessly, carelessly sapping the life out of everything they touched. The desolation and emptiness of Risea's frostland was not due to its natural environment like everyone thought it was.
During the aftermath of the Northern War, while the Ten Pillars were forging diplomatic relationships with the vikings the best they could, they discovered something. Mountainous pieces of evidence that indicated the eradication of multiple species that were native to the land. The Riseans' lack of education and ancient way of life had pushed the Polar North's ecosystem to the brink of collapse. They consumed the land until there was nothing left, and soon they would have to expand their nation. This reason must have been why the clans aborted their endeavors and never attempted to re enter Risea again, Since then, everyone had been expecting a repeat of the Northern war as soon as the Vikings ran out of resources, but that didn't happen.
The further they walked through the arctic forest, the more wondrous signs of nature they saw. Fields of heavenly white roses and flowing glacial rivers. Sibbe especially loved this part, commenting on how pretty all the crystals were. The entire oasis was teeming with wildlife. It should have been considered blasphemous for such a place to be even associated with the Polar North. Gaius's normally intimidating blue eyes now had the glow of a pleading child's, gaping at the awe-inspiring marvel around him. "Now that we know this place exists… We can never allow any harm to come to it." He murmured fanatically. All of the others continued to stare in silent agreement.
After a while, they began to near a cavern, though it was more like a… opening in the side of a mountain. The mouth of the cave was so enormous that it looked like a ball the size of a castle had rolled away from the summit, creating an arching mountaintop that covered the ground below it. From a distance Kingston could see the ridiculous amount of lighting that peppered the walls. Almost every ledge, every available surface had a lit candle on it. As they walked closer, the vague image of a man sitting at a table came into view. "Uncle Mass!" The little girl cried out happily as she broke away from her sister, sprinting towards the man. Upon hearing the voice of the child he remained seated, but called out in reply, "Little girl! I… didn't feel you coming…" His face contorted, like its muscles were trying to frown but couldn't. Then they saw it.
"Oh my god." Rekken covered her mouth in horror.
"What in..." Theodore stifled a gag.
"So this is what became… of the Elementalist of origin…" Gaius' face fell.
The Stormbringer… Maas Osborn. It was a despairing feeling, to see one of the earliest primordial mages and one of the Legendary Elementalists of Origin reduced to such a ragged state. The fact that his body was still alive and his essence was still plentiful only added on to the overwhelming sense of pity they all felt. The vigor on his face was ruined by the two hollow holes that were supposed to be his eyes, the white robes that hugged his elegant and spindly body ended at his waist… since there was nothing more beneath it.
"They… mutilated him." Gaius grit his teeth angrily.
It was a miracle that he was still alive, and all the more magical that his magian essence was still not only functioning, but it was just as strong as it always was. At the time of his apparent death, it was a huge loss to all of humanity. Kingston didn't remember where he was at the time, so the War didn't impact him that much, but from the looks of relief on their faces, Maas' survival meant a lot to them. But their reunification was stained by the torture methods of the vikings. His sight was taken away, and his legs were severed. Still, he shone brightly. The world renowned runes that painted his body were constantly glowing. He may have been physically half a man, but his runic essence was still greater than some primordials.
"Put your blindfold on old man. Your hollow head is not a very pleasant sight." Yufa slid off her cloak, revealing her scarred body and amputated arm, and sat at the stone table across from Maas.
"I'm sorry I…" He wrapped the cloth around his eyes, the same way the little girl did. "It is strangely difficult for me to see right now." Again his facial features confusedly morphed and contracted, they even flinched slightly every time he moved his face. "Sib cannot see either!" The Risean child piped up enthusiastically.
Maas turned to look at the girl, "What are you-"
"It is because of them." She explained, then she added, "You cannot see them either. Can you?"
"Them?" The Ezuran looked up. "Ljufa, who did you bring here?" His tone was as curious as it was afraid.
"Outsiders." She said, "Like you."
He slammed his palms onto the table and tried to push himself up before remembering that he could no longer stand. "Is this true?! My people have come for me after all!" His voice was trembling with what could have been anything from relief to anger. "Where?! Why can I not see them!"
His outburst must have been especially unusual as SIbbe began to tug at his robe, asking him innocently, "Uncle Mass, please don't be angry at Yufa for getting lost."
"I am not angry, child I'm -"
"Maas Osborn." The sound of someone saying his full name for the first time in years sent shocks throughout his body. "We… are not from Ezura." Kingston said, as bluntly as ever. "I… see." The Ezuran replied, slightly disappointed. "But you are from the mainland, yes?"
"That is correct. We are…" Kingston paused, reconsidering his next words. "We are from the South. Near Phador."
"Phador… what business does a nation so far away have in Risea?"
"I am here on a favor of an old friend, someone you may know. His name is Magni Allison."
A disbelieving chuckle caused him to lurch forward. "AHA…" Then he threw his head back and began to laugh uncontrollably. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAH! TO THINK THAT I WOULD BE ABLE TO HEAR THAT NAME AGAIN." He exploded in excitement, causing little Sibbe to flinch slightly at his sudden outburst. "Ahh… old man. You were always-" The smile suddenly dropped from his face. "Wait… does this mean Adrius made it back alive?" Theodore and Gaius grimaced, feeling extremely regretful that this glorious reunification was going to be spoiled by bad news. The atmosphere was enough to make Rekken almost cry. A warrior like this, one who has endured countless trials and hours of indescribable pain and anguish. They wanted to give him nothing other than whatever he wanted, because that is what he deserved. But in this world, the righteous and noble are hardly ever rewarded. "No one made it back." Kingston confirmed grimly. "The only death the Ten Pillars have not been able to confirm was yours."
And just like that, his entire demeanor did a complete turn in the wrong direction. His shoulders dropped back down into his seat, the victorious enthusiasm disappearing from his face. He wasn't sure what he expected, good news? From the bloodiest war ever fought in the history of mankind? For some reason, it felt like he had just wasted the last two years of his life, clinging onto the hope that once he was found by his people, everything would be okay again. "Hnn…" The Stormbringer clenched his jaws, enraged by what he had just heard. "Even a child…" He looked up at the sky, streams of blood sliding out from underneath his blindfold, trickling down off his face. "You could not spare even a child."
From the moment they saw him, Kingston wondered how much of his mind was consumed by rage. The despairing bitterness of being unable to seek revenge. Confined to this stone table, living with the same people who did this to him… what did he feel? Nobody would know. That agonizingly acidic affliction of being denied the ability to seek justice, being forced into this dark and lonely world, lit only by the dozens of candles that became his source of hearth in this godforsaken tundra. He was trapped inside a crystal oasis that he couldn't see, far away from his homeland and away from his people.
All these years, he had put aside these feelings in order to preserve his mental state. But his reconciliation with the mainland only reminded him of what he once was... and everything he had lost. Storm Clouds began to form overhead, and a deep rumbling shook the ground. Then, the sky began to cry. The Ezuran's shoulders shook slightly as he wept in silence. His hollow eye sockets, unable to produce real tears, allowed him to cry with his own blood. The crimson red liquid dripped down onto Sibbe, staining her pale skin. The girl looked up at the sky, innocently wondering how droplets of rain were able to fall through the top of the cavern.
Maas was sobbing uncontrollably now. At some point, Kingston would begin to worry about the massive blood loss that would occur if he were to keep crying. "I've thought about killing them, you know." He whimpered manically. Ljufa and everyone else knew who he was referring to, but Sibbe didn't. The little girl, still clinging onto his robes, wondering why Maas was so upset. After a while, even though she didn't understand why he was crying, her eyes began to tear up as well. "Even though they saved me. Even though they've kept me alive all this time-" He brought his hands up to his head, clawing at the unkempt brown hair in pure anguish. "My flesh and blood… were the least of what I lost."
𝗞𝗥𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗞𝗢𝗢𝗢𝗠
The skies above them bellowed and struck the mountaintop. With a mighty rage and a mighty cry.