It was well into the night when Imilia left the training grounds. The duo had been sparring for many hours, and both of them were exhausted. Lyuben was alone in the center of the large training fields. The pale moonlight dimly illuminated the tall blades of dry grass. The whole place was creepy in the nighttime.
Lyuben paid attention to every noise around him. He could hear a songbird chirping an eerie tune in the distance as he walked towards the edge of the field.
Then, the price felt a freezing gale sweeping through the area, blowing fiercely through Lyuben’s messy hair. An odd chill spread through his entire body.
“Stop it, Lyuben! Stop it! You’re just imagining things.”
Dark, ethereal figures started to flicker in front of him, but the powerful wind swept them away. Oddly enough, Lyuben could recognize some of them.
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” A myriad of voices started to echo through his mind. Some were saying his name. Others were not. Lyuben couldn’t make out much. It was complete chaos. The teenager tried to run from the madness, but nothing happened. The strong wind knocked the prince off his feet, then another shrill scream pierced through his mind like a silver arrow. Lyuben opened his eyes and relaxed in submission staring up at the white moon before everything in his vision faded to white.
----
The white light dissolved into a colorful scene. Lyuben found himself walking in a peaceful meadow. It was drizzling slightly, but the sun’s hopeful rays still broke through the heavy clouds. Lyuben noticed how the rays split as they collided with every raindrop to form a majestic rainbow.
Yellow and white wildflowers were scattered randomly across the field. Lyuben could remember coming to this place often with his mother. In the center of the meadow, there was a girl with long black hair. Next to her, was a small child with light brown hair.
Is that...me? And my mom?
Together, they were training. Except with swords. Lyuben’s mother would show him a move, then Lyuben repeated, though in a much clumsier manner. Hjordis laughed as Lyuben slowly improved with each stroke. There was a loving expression on Hjordis’s face: Something that Lyuben had purged from his memory.
Love. What is love?
Lyuben could see a white glow surround both swords. Lyuben could tell it was something protective. It was an enchantment meant to keep something away. Something meant to keep Lyuben safe. But from what?
Lyuben’s thought was interrupted by the child version of himself: “Look mom! Look what I did yesterday!”
The boy put his small sword gently onto the ground and opened his palm. A black flower bud of smoke slowly formed in the prince’s hand. Both people watched as it slowly bloomed into a dark, fiery flower. It was a rose. Lyuben looked back at his mother’s face. Her smile had turned into a nasty scowl. She closed Lyuben’s hand, extinguishing the flames.
The child watched as the tendrils of smoke curled into the air and disappeared. “Did you like it?”
“No,” Hjordis snapped at her child, “And I never want to see it again.” She slapped the child across the cheek. “Do you understand me?”
Ow! How did that slap hurt me?
“Yes, mother.”
A dark fog started to consume the field. Lyuben looked around as the edges of it dissolved into the dark mist. As the abyssal mist inched closer, Lyuben saw his mother draw her sword. It radiated with a hopeful energy that made Lyuben take a few steps back. She whirled her blade though the air, sending waves of energy that pushed the black fog away.
Hjordis backed up closer to Lyuben as the fog persisted. It slowly closed in on the mother and child, before pulling them into the vast darkness too. Now Lyuben was alone in the meadow again. He felt himself spinning uncontrollably as the fog swirled around him.
----
Lyuben stopped spinning and found himself in a dark hall. A row of candles lined the rocky wall to light up the abandoned place. The prince began to walk forward aimlessly.
Where am I? What is this place?
The moment he began to do so, everything behind him started to crumble into ashes before dissipating into the dark abyss behind him.
Lyuben quickened his pace as the crumbling effect slowly crept forward. Cracks spread through the walls and floor of the chamber, some of them even in front of him. A strong, cold wind swept through the chamber, snuffing out many of the dim candles.
Lyuben could see the end of the hall. There was a circular door with innocent flower patterns inscribed on it with silver paint. Would he be fast enough to reach there? In a few moments, the walls had already disintegrated into the inky abyss. The cracks in the trail spread far ahead of Lyuben. If he stopped for a breath, Lyuben would plummet into the abyss.
Lyuben finally reached the door. He flung it open, revealing a hooded figure facing away from him. A rose peeked out from behind their dark robes.
Who was that..?
As Lyuben was about to step inside, the floor gave way beneath him. Lyuben screamed as he fell backwards into the endless darkness.
----
The fall seemed to continue for ages. Lyuben shut his eyes tightly as he descended faster and faster through the darkness. It didn’t make any difference though. The feeling was just the same.
(Note: This whole sequence, including the training sequence takes place after the sixth match and before/during the seventh)
---
Lyuben landed surprisingly softly on a grassy riverbank. Lyuben looked up at the night sky, then at the ground again. The ground was intact and the stars shone like diamonds in the night sky. Lyuben recognized this place too. It was called Friyena’s Falls. The twin waterfalls just out of sight were one of the most beautiful places in Malterra.
Lyuben walked along the riverbank to see the falls. The falls sprayed light mist into the air as they splashed into the crystal clear water below. The prince pointed out to himself the rock structures and monuments he used to climb as his mother waited below. His favorite one had been the rose shaped boulder that had been carved thousands of years ago by the rushing water.
On top of the rose, Lyuben saw a boy. Maybe ten or eleven years old? Was that him...again? The boy was standing on the tip of the rose-boulder’s large petals shooting purple blasts of magic in the sky. They exploded in the air like fireworks, sending purple shimmering dust into the air to mix with the sparkling mist. It was a beautiful sight to behold.
Another figure in a white gown entered, running past Lyuben, who seemed to have no effect on the scene at all.
“Lyuben? Lyuben!” she called. It was Hjordis.
Her gaze hovered over the spot where Lyuben was standing.
Can she...see me?
She looked away and chased after the boy on top of the rose statue. The boy, who Lyuben assumed to be a younger version of himself jumped upon seeing her. He cleared the purple shimmer floating in the sky quickly, but suddenly lost his balance. The boy fell into the water.
“Mom! Help!” The boy vanished under the surface of the water.
That’s right! There’s a mysterious whirlpool where the waterfall hits the water. Those who have fallen in never make it out alive. Wait...how did I make it out of there?
“Lyuben!” Hjordis screamed. She jumped into the water, not caring about her expensive clothes and jewelry. In a few long seconds, she emerged with the boy in her arms. The boy was unconscious. She kissed him lightly on the forehead.
“Never, never, do something like that again. I don’t want to see that magic,” she scolded caringly, “I value your life more than anything. You mean the world to me. That’s why I can’t let you practice magic. That's also why I won't let you drown because of it.”
Why is she talking about my magic of all things? Now? What does my magic have to do with drowning?
The scene around him shattered like glass, revealing another one behind it.
----
Lyuben now found himself behind a curtain in his parents’ room. They had the largest room in the house. Abstract paintings were scattered across the wall silver wall. There were two crystal chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling and two large beds for his parents. The prince could see his parents next to a large window that overlooked the castle gardens. They were arguing.
“You can’t do this!” his mother pleaded, “You can’t! There’s nothing wrong with him being gay. This boy is the greatest thing that happened to me. To you!”
“Not anymore.” The king turned away from his queen. “I must set an example for this kingdom. I can’t have a-”
“Watch your words,” the queen snapped at him, “He’s your son! Let him pursue his love! Let him be him!”
“Him is not what I want.”
“Since when did we get to choose? I’m the-”
“You’re what?”
“Nothing…”
In a blur of colors, the scene faded to another in the same room. Lyuben was still behind the orange silk curtains as he watched a new scene unfold in front of him.
“We have to kill him,” the queen said.
“I thought you liked him being gay?”
“Not that, idiot! I’m fine with that. His boyfriend poses a threat to this kingdom. This land. He knows...things that he shouldn't know. About Lyuben. About this kingdom.”
These aren’t my memories...how am I seeing this? What
“You know I’m all for killing that horrible boy, but why?”
“I…” Hjordis started. It was clear that she was trying to choose her words very carefully. “I can tell you another time. For now, you need to do as I say. You can have your way...showing the kingdom your hate for him being...him while I can help actually remove a...threat to this kingdom.”
His mother produced a dagger from her robes and handed it to the king. Lyuben silently followed them as they tiptoed down the stairs to a guest room on the second floor. They opened the door to reveal Lyuben’s boyfriend.
The prince charged at his parents, fully knowing he was almost nonexistent in the scene, but maybe...if he could stop them…
Lyuben released a dark ball of fire towards his mother. It passed through the large castle pillars and other obstacles that would have blocked it had this actually been real, but his mother slashed it into tiny ribbons of flame with another dagger before they disappeared into the air.
She slashed again ferociously, creating a long gash across Lyuben’s hand. Lyuben screamed. The scene vanished from around him, and Lyuben found himself alone in the empty field. The boy wiped away tears from his face. He didn’t know if it was from sadness or pain. It didn’t really matter.
Lyuben looked down at his hand, which was still stinging from the pain. He was holding his rose in the same hand, and one of its sharp thorns had sunk deep into his skin. His hand was bleeding profusely, so Lyuben took off his shirt below his robes to bandage his hand. Lyuben returned the rose to his pocket.
"I guess I'll be needing another shirt in that case," Lyuben paused, "If I can afford it with the money I have left."
He jumped up and started walking back to his room. Lyuben could hear cheering in the distance. Just then, the runaway prince realized that it was the afternoon already. The seventh match had just finished.
The carriage trundled down the rocky path, Sturgar walking behind it. He paused momentarily confused. Why was he here again? He snapped out of his reverie as duke Nartheus poked his head out the carriage window, observing the passing scenery. Of course, security. That was his job, after all. Still, something didn't feel right. A strange feeling of impermanence drifted through his mind, as if this wasn't really happening. How could that be? He was here. He could feel the ground beneath his feet and the wind blowing by. How could this not be happening?
Suddenly, with a great crash, a tree toppled behind him, followed by another, and another. He whirled about, readying his weapon and signaling the driver to put as much distance between them as possible, as a great swath of trees was felled, ever approaching. Finally, from the tree line, a great beast emerged. Similar to the one the caravan had encountered on the voyage to Werther fortress, it was massive and black. It reared it's oily head and bellowed a challenge, before thundering towards him.
Slowly backing up, he suddenly tripped. Sturgar looked down and saw, to his horror, that the alloyed casing on his left leg was slowly melting away, dribbling down onto the ground like a thick paint. Panicking, he stumbled back again, toppling over. As he attempted to right himself he saw his arms begin to liquify. He shook his head in disbelief as his entire body slowly but surely melted like cream, flowing into great, big, golden puddles on the road. He stared up at the beast as it slowly approached him. It seemed to know he was helpless and quite enjoyed it. In a last effort, he swung his sword, only to find it had completely vanished, and his arm was but a rapidly disappearing stub. As the final layers of his armor vanished, he turned to look at himself. A mess of burnt skin and missing limbs, without that outer shell he was truly a pitiful sight. He whimpered weakly and began to slowly crawl away from the beast with the remaining stump of his right arm.
The Akon paced quietly behind him, savoring the moment. His skin began to chafe and bleed where it rubbed against the rough gravel and dirt. He glanced backwards furtively to see the scenery about him fade away, turning liquid and flowing away into nothingness. His heart racing and pulse pounding, he dragged himself desperately along the path, leaving a small trail of blood, as his surroundings vanished. Soon he was alone in a pure black void with the Akon, that horrid, ungodly animal that always trailed him ever so slowly.
He now realized how weak he was. Just days ago, emboldened by his victory, he had thought himself an unbeatable machine, a juggernaut of steel and blades. What a lie. He was a pitiful lump of flesh, to crippled to even walk, reliant on a shell of metal to even function properly. At last exhausted, he fell flat on his chest and waited for death. He had failed, he knew. Nartheus was far away, perhaps being hurt, or even dead. How disappointed he must be. How disappointed everyone must be! Zordroth, who had put so many hours of his time into forging, assembling, and honing his body. And even Grollan, who had trained him since childhood. He lay there, in his own pooling blood, waiting for death. The Akon ambled up to him, almost consolingly, and raised a massive clawed hand, before swiftly bringing it downwards.
With a rush or adrenaline, Sturgar awoke. In a panic, he patted himself dow, ensuring his body was still there, solid as ever. He sat up in the chair, reassured. He looked over to the duke, still asleep in the bed nearby. He rose, clutching his weapons for comfort. That had been strange, and terrifying. Thank the gods it was a dream. Still, it had been eerily realistic. He shuddered, thinking about the abyss. What a terrifying, unknown force. After making sure the guards were posted both inside and outside the room, Sturgar left, heading for the training grounds in the early morning for. He was, he now realized, nothing, a spec in the universe, utterly weak and completely powerless. He squared up against a dummy, carefully weighing his weapons. This would have to change.
Conscience was with Tresa in the sparring ground, waiting for her duel to begin later. She was in fighting gear, and whirled around, slicing a circle of mannequins with wooden short swords, dodging invisible attacks. Conscience’s form was nigh-perfect, as she had spent all her childhood training for battles such as these. Well not all of it…
A little girl (It was her!) wandering about a market, vendors yelling prices. A warm hand on her shoulder, her mother standing behind her. They stopped, a tradesman selling flowers in front of them. Words exchanged between her mother and him, strange words sounding like they were talking about flowers, but not really. They were talking about flowers, but not at the same time. A red flower exchanged-
Red blood spilling over the floor, a man (Not a man! That demon!) standing by bodies on the floor. Hefting his sword, he advanced, a coat of arms and a throne leaking black smoke, black smoke everywhere, behind him. Black tendrils flowing from her, but retreating from this figure-
Snapping out of the visions, she stood in shock, Tresa’s face mirroring hers, as she looked at her surroundings. Her blunt, wooden practice short swords in splinters, and the surrounding mannequins in shreds on the ground. She looked down at her hands, where traces of black magic receded into her skin, purple magic rising to replace it.
“I- I don’t know. You were practicing, then you paused for a second, and suddenly this black magic overtook your blades, and then well…look at the mannequins and the swords. What’s going on with you?” Tresa looked scared.
“I don’t know half of it, and the other half I don’t even know how to explain.” Conscience’s emotions were, unusually, showing on her face, scared and sad in equal measure. The two, horrible memories, one of which she had pushed out of her mind, and the other of which she had no idea of exactly what it was.
“Try for me,” Tresa’s voice broke, “I can’t help you unless you actually explain.”
“I’m sorry.” The memories continued to press, until suddenly her resistance broke.
The little girl continued walking through the market, her mother behind her. A vendor of sweets, holding candy fluff, called out to her, waving one in the hair. She perked up, turning to her mother, a question on her lips, but confronted with the denial on her mother’s face, the question died, and she turned her face down, in sadness, but most of all anger. Something dark stirred beneath the surface, and she twisted her hand, then…a single footstep-
A single footstep seemed to take a million years to echo towards the little girl, who sat, tears streaking down her face, the black magic (Was that the magic that she had just used?) twisting around her palms, not advancing towards the demon, but not receding into her body. She looked up, seeing deep into its eyes, looking at all the atrocities within its soul, before the heft of the sword, the displaced air of its passage whirling towards her-
Conscience was jerked out of the stupor again, the same black magic twirling around her, the grass at her feet blackened and twisted. Looking up, Tresa was fine, luckily, but she looked at Conscience with a fearful gaze. Conscience’s mouth opened, trying to explain without mentioning, but Tresa stepped backwards into a pool of shadow, disappearing into a portal of her magic. Well, another friendship ruined, Conscience thought grimly. Just have to get past this stupid match and not lose control. Then, answers will be mine.
@ChoyBoi - Sorry for the constant delays. Personal matters have pressed these past few days and I've been too distracted/tired to work on this when I've had time. I've made progress however, and I should be able to host the match on 20:00 CST today.
Dawn. The golden morning sun was rising in the horizon, brightening the dark night sky with each passing minute. Silhouettes of huge looming clouds slowly became visible, and countless crows began to caw in the fields which surrounded a long dirt road. The flutter of their wings echoed all around a lone traveler, gravel silently crunching under his felt boots. His long grey hair, beard, and worn purple robe waved with the occasional cool gales. Many blue leaves decorated his upper back, and his cloak seemed to actually be a pair of thin faerie wings that had seen better days. A large wooden device, which resembled a violin, was hanging from his shoulder strap, and he constantly held the device with his artificial right hand. When the sky became bright enough, he waved his wrinkly left hand, and the flames within two acorn-shaped lanterns, which hanged from his belt, snuffed out. Three black crows, which were sitting on farmers' scythes at the edge of a field, laughed at him before flying away. The traveler watched as they became small dots in the horizon, then he shook his head and kept looking at the road ahead.
He raised his thick eyebrows once he saw a lake after passing yet another hill, followed by a dam market, which the road connected to. Chuckling, he hurried his pace, and slowly caught the smell of countless breakfasts in the making. The sound of people chattering, laughing, and singing was a welcome change from the eerie voices of a lonely night. Vendors set up their shops, yawning night guards traveled to a nearby fortress, and brisk day guards took their posts. Children ran around the tents, smiling maids brought meals to their customers, then the traveler heard how his belly rumbled. He stroked his beard with his left hand while looking around the food places. Humm. That one's full. That place has too much racket. *Sniff* Uh, I don't want to see what they're cooking over there... Hold on! What is that music? The old traveler heard peculiar lute tunes further down the dam street and he set off to find its source, walking past slightly drowsy people while also making sure his device didn't bump into them.
He arrived to a humble food place, which was blessed by a minstrel, playing a runed lute at the opposite side of the street. Though blind, his enchanted upbeat music had gathered a small crowd around him and customers for the little restaurant at the same time. Impressed, the traveler took an empty table that was as close to the minstrel as possible, and placed his precious device on a chair right next to him. When a young male elven waiter approached and asked what the old traveler wanted, he asked for an ale. As the waiter walked away, the minstrel finished his song with joyful plucks, and people clapped while generous ones tossed coins into an empty tankard on a table right next to the minstrel. Each coin let out a delightful clink as it fell into the large mug. The traveler clapped quietly with his prosthetic right hand and wrinkly left hand, then he noticed as someone approached the opposite side of his table. "Excuse me. May I join you?" A young female voice asked kindly, and the bearded traveler looked at her for half a second before answering.
"Oh, sure," he said with a raspy voice, his whiskers curling from a hidden smile. The young human lady smiled back as she gracefully sat down while the minstrel started playing another song, a calm and a cheerful one. The traveler eyed the lady while she kept looking at the show and laid her hands onto her lap. She was wearing a light blue dress with complex design, the type which nobles would use. Black laced thigh-high boots peeked from under the dress, neat and scratchless. White frills decorated her waist, chest, fingerless gloves, and hood, which covered her long golden hair. What really stood out for the traveler was a white cloth that covered the girl's forehead and left eye. As he kept staring, the lady turned her head, and in turn examined the old traveler with her green eye for a moment.
"Were you, too, drawn here by the Soundweaver's enchanting music?" she asked, then smiled even more brightly when the old traveler nodded. "From where I come from, people have sung and danced in honor of our caretakers during many special occasions, but these past few years," a sigh, "people haven't been together or worked together like once before. I'm sure you've noticed this too during your travels." She leaned a bit towards the old traveler while looking at his prosthetic arm, wooden mask, and antlers. "I can easily tell you've come from far, but from where exactly?" When the lady asked that, the waiter returned to the table with a wooden tankard full of foaming ale, and she asked for one as well.
"Well, I was wandering in northwestern Eviera for weeks before I heard about this tournament," the traveler said before he slowly took a swig from the tankard. "I passed many towns and villages on my way here. Some were welcoming, others, not so much. And the most unfortunate places... didn't have people at all," he rubbed the tankard's handle with his prosthetic arm's fingers while looking at it with tired eyes. The lady's concern was genuine.
"You traveled alone? Poor old fae... It's dangerous to do so these days. The abyssal outbreaks aren't as rare as they used to be."
"Ah, you need not worry about me, young lady," he said while flicking his glass-like wings a couple of times and pointing at them with his artificial thumb. "These two heavenly leaves have always had my back even in the most desperate of times!" The lady chuckled, and at the same time, the waiter brought her the ale tankard, then went to serve other customers. The traveler and the lady both took a swig from their mugs while the Soundweaver continued playing his calm song.
"In any case," she said while wiping the foam from her mouth with a handkerchief. "People need to help each other now more than ever, but they've been doing the opposite. So I'm thankful for this tournament's return. It has brought us together, lifted our spirits, and given us much needed spectacular action!" She smiled and slammed the mug onto the table, causing the ale to slosh around for a moment. The old faerie raised his eyebrows and chuckled.
"Ho ho! Seems like I've missed out a bit of fun! How many matches have they held already?" He slowly drank the ale while the lady answered.
"Oh, I'm afraid you've missed seven whole matches," she said, and the traveler almost spat ale from his mouth thanks the shocking news. The lady tried not to laugh as she continued. "Eighth match will be hosted today, and it's the final match of this round."
"By my beard, I'm not as fast as I used to be! How can I share the tale of this tournament if I won't witness all the details?" The lady's green right eye glinted momentarily from interest.
"Now I know who you are; a wandering storyteller," she said while sounding like an excited young child, and the traveler smiled brightly under his grey beard.
"That's right! I've played songs and told tales for people all around the land in hopes of easing their burdens. Stories of the godlike caretakers, champions, and other important characters and events of our world's history. They already have many duties to fulfill, so I serve as their humble storyteller and hopebringer for the people." The lady blinked her eye many times while sighing.
"Don't worry about being late," she said before taking another swig. "I'll fill your head with all the details about the matches, the winning contestants, and the fallen! They are unforgettable..." She wiped her mouth again, then nodded towards Soundweaver. His song turned a bit bouncier and cheerier, as if the blind minstrel was listening to the conversation. "He fought in the fourth match, crazy old musician. But he surprised us all with his magical skills! Even though he lost to his fierce witch opponent, seeing him fight was... inspiring! Each match has been quite an experience, and I can never wait for the next!" They laughed, drank some more, then the young lady eyed the device next to the old faerie. "By the way... is that a wheel fiddle?"
"Indeed it is," he said while he grabbed the device, put its strap around his neck, then placed the instrument onto his lap. "A hurdy-gurdy. It was a gift, and I've used it for many years." With his left hand, he cranked the rosined wheel against multiple strings, pressed the wooden keys with his prosthetic right hand, and produced melodies as if a small violin ensemble was playing them. The lady clapped her hands quickly, then she glanced at Soundweaver, who had just finished his song and was receiving another ovation.
"I have an idea," she said while still looking at the minstrel. "You should play a song with him! And maybe tell a story as well. I would love to see it!" The faerie scratched the back of his head.
"Well, how can I say no for a sweet lady such as yourself?" he asked, then grabbed his tankard, which had a bit of ale left. "But if we play, you sing the song with your beautiful voice." She blushed a little while looking at her knees, then she looked into the traveler's eye as she raised her mug.
"You have a deal," she smiled and offered her tankard. "Cheers!" They bumped each other's tankards, drank the rest of their ales in a couple of seconds, then put them onto the table while exhaling at the same time. "So... what will we perform for the crowd?" The old faerie thought about his journey to the market, then he whispered something into the lady's ear. She nodded, then they stood up and walked towards Soundweaver. The blind minstrel was immediately ready to play the song with the two, so after the traveler prepared his wheel fiddle and the lady cleared her voice, they began performing the song for the crowd.
Music
The lady laughed joyfully when the song was over, and the listeners clapped for the trio. After a small bow, the faerie shook the Soundweaver's hand while more coins fell into the blind minstrel's mug. When the people dispersed, he offered some of the coins for the faerie and the lady, but they kindly refused, bid their farewells, then returned to the food place. A howling gale suddenly pulled the tents, flags, and the garments of the people in the street, then the lady looked into the bright blue sky while holding her cloth over her face. "There's still a bit of time left before the match's start," she said, still smiling. "How about we eat something? Then I'll tell you about the contestants who will fight today." The faerie's belly rumbled again, then he nodded repeatedly.
"Yes, that's what I actually came here to do, but I seem to have forgotten!" They chuckled while the lady stroked her hair with her right hand, then she gasped as she realized something.
"Dear me, forgive my manners, but I have also forgotten to ask your name!"
"Oh, the tale of a storyteller isn't as grand as the stories we carry," he said casually. "Everyone will forget our names."
"You've made my day so much better, and it has only begun," she said and gently grabbed the traveler's prosthetic hand while sighing. "Now please, tell me your name. I swear I'll never forget it." The old faerie raised his eyebrows momentarily from surprise, then he cleared his voice and straightened his back.
Lyuben roamed aimlessly around the city’s market. Civilians sat behind small stalls with colorful items placed neatly in front of them. All the clothes were too expensive for Lyuben at the moment. He had only two gold coins left, and this city was much richer than the others already. Lyuben noticed his stomach grumbling, so he bought a cheap sandwich from a tall vendor with a thick moustache.
Great! Now I’m down to one gold coin! I can’t ask Judge Gaspar for money because I’m a stupid prince. Who would’ve thought I’d worry about something like this?
Lyuben was still thinking about his mother too. The memories he had seen of her. She was the reason his boyfriend was dead. Lyuben sighed.
Why did mother hate my magic so much? Why did she want him dead anyways? What danger did he pose anyways? He was the most loving, caring, amazing-
A gentle hand tapped his shoulder. “Lyuben!”
“Ayden? You’re still here?”
The messenger smiled. “I managed to find a room here, and I made up another story for my manager. I wanted to see you compete in the tournament!” Ayden looked at Lyuben’s hand. “So, where were you yesterday? I didn’t see you in the stands.”
“I was at the training grounds,” Lyuben responded.
“Ah, I see-”
“Unconscious.”
“Oh.”
“And I stabbed myself with my rose here.” Lyuben gestured to his messily bandaged hand.
“Yikes…what sort of training was this?”
“Ummm...Let’s just call it mind training.”
Ayden laughed a little bit. Lyuben smiled a little too. Ayden’s happiness was contagious. The messenger offered Lyuben his hand and they strolled around the lively market together.
“So...who ended up winning the seventh match?”
“It was odd. Tika, that new contestant won the match, but the two never fought. Rumor has it that Arn ventured into the abyss and was humbled by a some abyssal monster.”
“Wow. I had no idea the abyss was that powerful…”
“The abyss is quite fascinating. I have been reading about it recently from books in the Planar Archive.”
“The Planar Archive? Isn’t that-”
“Forbidden?” Ayden finished Lyuben’s sentence, “Yes. I had to sneak in there. Many people go mad with all that knowledge around them, but I knew exactly what I was looking for.”
“What books did you...uhm...steal?”
“I’ll show you.” The two boys stopped at a yellow bench under a large maple tree.
Once they sat down, Ayden pulled out two books from his messenger bag. One was a very deep purple while the other was green. Both books had fancy gold lettering on the front. The first book, the purple one, was about the history of the Dusk Rose Legion.
“As you know, The Dusk Rose Legion ruled Malterra before your family with a firm hand. This group was also very connected with the abyss. They were some of the very few people that worshipped the abyssal god. When I tried to research more, I found almost no information on this god. I couldn’t even find the god’s name. One chapter mentioned he was the oldest of all the gods and the protector of all of them, contrary to most people’s opinions on the abyss and its magic.”
“So...what role does the abyss play in this world? I thought it was purely evil magic.”
“For the most part, it is, yes. But there’s something important about the abyss that keeps this world in balance. Something vital that we’ve managed to forget as time progressed. Evil is only a matter of opinion after all.”
“I see…”
“What I do know is that the raw power inside the abyss is tempting to almost anything. Beasts consumed by its dark powers. Even the mysterious abyssal god, who seeked to contain the abyss fell to its tempting powers.”
“Wow. What about the other book?” Lyuben asked.
“It’s the Rakhadi family tree,” Ayden opened the book and traced his fingers along the lines on the first page. I managed to trace it back to you.”
“Me?!” Lyuben exclaimed.
“Yes. You and your mother are the last living descendants of Emperor Rakhadi.”
“My mother? What? She hates magic!”
“She killed off the Dusk Rose Legion and the rest of her living family ten years before you were born.”
“She what?!”
“Without using magic in a duel once.”
“That’s what the voice meant,” Lyuben muttered to himself, “That’s why it said I was becoming like Rakhadi. My magic isn’t like his...it is his! I'm his family...” Lyuben turned to Ayden. “I’m scared. What if I become like him?”
Ayden scooted closer to Lyuben, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “You won’t become Rakhadi, Lyuben.”
Lyuben looked into Ayden’s hazel eyes. “What tells you that?”
“You’re Lyuben. And you will always be Lyuben to me.”
The two shared a moment of silence as civilians bustled through the busy market around them. The noises of the market was nothing but a quiet murmur to their ears as they comforted each other.
“Thank you, Ayden,” Lyuben smiled, “You don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”
A girl came and sat down on the bench next to Lyuben. She was wearing a long scarlet dress, drawing the attention of people around them. “Hi, Lyuben!”
“Oh. Cecilia! How has everything been going here? Have you been watching the other matches?”
“Actually, no! I was preparing a surprise for you!” she responded sweetly. Ayden’s eyes narrowed. He could sense something odd with Cecilia’s behavior.
“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”
“You’ll have to come see! Are you free right now?”
“Of c-” Ayden tugged on the sleeve of Lyuben’s black robe. “What?”
“She seems a little...well...suspicious,” Ayden whispered in Lyuben’s ear.
“She’s my hometown friend. What could she do? She can’t use magic or wield a weapon. I can come meet you after I’m done.”
Ayden sighed as he let go of Lyuben’s rose. He gave Lyuben a look of caution before Cecilia led Lyuben out of the market.
“Where are we going?” Lyuben asked as they entered the outskirts of the city. There were very few people living here. Most of it was filled with dead trees and abandoned houses where weapons were stored.
Cecilia stopped next to an old, one story house. Through a small window, Lyuben could see a light flickering in the back illuminating a table with broken chairs littered around it. There was also a partially ripped couch with rose designs all over it next to the window.
“We’re here!”
“This is where the surprise is?”
“I’ve been staying here for a very cheap price. I didn’t want to raise any suspicious about Malterra.”
“But you’re wearing the fanciest dress possible!”
“Do you not trust me?”
Lyuben started to get an odd feeling. “Yes. Of course I do. You-you’re my best friend.”
Cecilia opened the door. It creaked loudly as it opened to reveal the worn down house. Lyuben looked around, trying to spot the “surprise” in the room.
“Stay right here,” Cecilia instructed. She disappeared down a long hall. Lyuben’s head started to hurt. Voices inside his head seemed to be yelling at him, but one thing was the most prominent among them:
Lyuben heard a lock click from the weird door behind him. The window shutters all slammed closed and a bright light flickered on in the room, revealing two people: Ryan and Arin. Lyuben recognized them. Both of them were close to his mother.
“Wh-what’s going on here? Cecilia?”
Lyuben heard light footsteps come down the hall. “I think it’s time you come back home…”
“Cecilia!? How could you?” Lyuben yelled, “I thought...I thought you understood…”
Those last words triggered the memory of the night he ran away. Lyuben could hear himself yelling the same lines to his parents. It was betrayal. Again.
Lyuben lowered his stance slightly. Dark flames filled his hands.
“Let me out!” Lyuben demanded, “I’ll kill you if- if I have to.”
“You think you can defeat me, boy?” Arin asked.
Ryan unsheathed his sword and stepped closer to Lyuben. “I don’t think we’re the ones in danger, little prince. Come with us, and you won’t get hurt.”
“No! I’ll never! I can’t go back there!”
Arin shook her head. “Have it your way then.” The witch drew a sigil in the air like Imilia would, but a blast of lightning shot forward from it. Lyuben cast his flames at Arin’s spell, but it did nothing to stop the electricity. The spell connected with Lyuben’s chest, sending him flying into the wall.
Lyuben fired a spell at Ryan, but he deflected it with his sword. The deflected spell caused a vase above Lyuben to explode, showering glass pieces all over him. His face and hands were bleeding from the sharp glass pieces and his cheap clothes were burnt by the heat of Arin’s spell. This wasn’t even a contest. Worst of all, Cecilia was watching the entire scene unfold with a wicked smirk spread across her innocent face.
“That’s right, Lyuben,” Ryan stepped forward, reaching his hand out to grab Lyuben. The prince drew out the rose from his robes, slashing Arin’s hand with its thorns. The soldier screamed in pain as he withdrew his hand.
“That’s it, little prince.” Ryan raised his sword up high.
Someone! Help!
A window suddenly shattered and a man entered the bright room. The man drew his sword, which he kept on his back and charged at Ryan, forcing the soldier to pivot and block the attack. It took Lyuben a few moments to realize who it was. It was Ayden!
“Get up Lyuben! Run!” Ayden shouted as he parried another blow from Ryan. Lyuben got up slowly and made his way to the open window. Arin ran to the other side of the room to stop him. With a newfound energy, Lyuben cast three dark arrows through the air. Arin dove to the side, the arrows missing her by a few inches. Lyuben pressed forward casting more dark energy towards his opponent, but Arin was simply quicker. She dodged all of Lyuben’s spells without giving him a direct pathway to escape through the window. Out of the corner of his eye, Lyuben could see a scowl on Cecilia’s face. That scowl reminded Lyuben of the expression his father wore as Lyuben confronted them on that fateful night. It was all too similar. Only this time, it was more difficult to get away.
Chaos engulfed the abandoned house. The sound of steel striking steel resonated through the air while repeated explosions spread colored smoke and light through the room. Cecilia had now ducked behind a countertop, trying to protect herself from the chaos unfolding in the house. Ryan pressed forward, forcing Ayden to play defensive. His repeated strikes coming from both sides forced Ayden to be hyper aware. One misstep and Ayden would be dead. Lyuben on the other hand seemed to be winning. Arin was working on reinforcing her shields as Lyuben’s blasts repeatedly pummeled them. There seemed to be no room for Arin to attack.
Ryan continued his rapid strikes. He could see Ayden running out of breath. Ayden couldn’t keep up with the greatest knight of Malterra for much longer. Ayden parried another strike, and then another.
“I need to do something. And fast.” Ayden said to himself.
Ayden blocked another strike from Ryan, then flawlessly transitioned into a thrust which caught the knight in an awkward position. His hands were twisted above his head as he blocked Ayden’s strike. Right as Ayden was about to strike again, Ryan kicked Ayden in the stomach with his metal boot. Ayden dropped his sword in pain. The messenger boy clutched his stomach in pain.
“No!” Lyuben screamed. He shot a spell at Ryan which the soldier had to dodge quickly, separating Ryan and Ayden. Ayden picked up his sword and readied himself to fight again. This split second gifted Arin an opening. She seized the moment, levitating the tiny glass shards around the room and sent them flying toward the prince. Lyuben gasped, creating a swath of flames to intercept the glass. A few shards filtered through the flames, but luckily missed Lyuben. A bright ball of light formed in Arin’s hands as the flames vanished into the air. She cast it towards Lyuben. Though it moved rather slowly through the air, something about the energy captivated Lyuben. The mage tried to raise his hands, but they felt incredibly heavy. Any dark magic that formed in Lyuben’s hands fizzled out instantly.
Lyuben suddenly snapped out of the spell. He ran out of the way just as the ball of light exploded. The dark smoke it produced made the room pitch black. A blast of blue energy caught Lyuben in the head. The room suddenly went silent before Lyuben crumpled to the floor.
Another blue light lit up the smoky haze and then Cecilia heard another person fall to the floor. When the smoke cleared, Cecilia saw Ayden first, then Lyuben below Ayden. Both of them weren’t moving.
“What should we do with the messenger boy?” Arin asked.
“Kill him!” Ryan shouted.
“No, let’s take him to the Queen. She will tell us what to do with him. We can take both Lyuben and Ayden together.”
Cecilia peeked outside. It appeared as though no one had seen the fight. “Quick, let’s go. We must return to Malterra as soon as possible. Most people will be getting ready for the eighth match soon.”
“What about Lyuben being in the tournament?” Ryan asked.
“Is that really a priority?”
The trio hauled Lyuben and Ayden’s limp bodies into the back of a carriage parked behind the house. Then, they closed it and sat in the front where they started their journey back to Malterra.
-----
Note to everyone: Lyuben has now been captured and taken away from the Tournament City. He will not be able to interact with any characters while in Malterra. This is taking place just before the Eighth match.
@shadow123 - There are three points which I wish to mention, but they're nothing serious:
- Terrodus never fell for the Abyss's power. He and his followers sometimes uses it as harmless tool for different situations (e.g. keep souls of the dead safe, send someone to the Abyssal gate), but they never use it as a weapon.
- Werther Fortress and the tournament market are two different places. The market is on a dam that's connected to the lake which surrounds the island fortress (they're not too close to each other, but people can see the fortress from the market, and vice versa).
- Neither the fort nor the dam are within the limits of a city/town. A majority of the fort's soldiers and the dam's folk do come from the nearby cities and towns, but those places aren't as close as the arenas. The fortress serves as a haven for the people of the region in case of an outbreak, and its soldiers keep the roads safe each day.
@TenebrisNemo Sounds good! I’ll edit when I finish my homework! It seems that I misinterpreted some information I got from Jonteman about the planes lore. I’ll read over again what he sent me.
Edit: I've edited all necessary parts in my passage. Thanks for pointing the mistakes out.
Midday bell tolled in the courtyard. The time had come for the final match of Werther Fortress and the first round of the tournament. While the young soldiers prepared the horses and the experienced tournament guards prepared their equipment, Sir Killian was in his room at the opposite wing from the contestants' quarters. He put on his black gambeson, tightened its leather straps, then did the same for his steel greaves and vambraces. After stretching for a short moment, he walked to a table, where the sheathed swords were. The shortsword laid on the table and the greatsword leaned to its side. Killian unsheathed the shortsword a bit, then looked at its white blade. Even when only slightly revealed, it reflected sunlight brilliantly, causing the knight to squint until he sheathed it back inside. Then he attached the shortsword's scabbard to the left side of his belt before attaching the greatsword's scabbard to the back of his shoulder belt. While rolling his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he left the room and walked through the fort's corridors.
Sir Killian passed many servants who were carrying clothes, food, and wooden boxes. Some were also cleaning floors and putting new torches in place of burnt ones. Then the knight reached the corridor which led to the front doors and to the dining hall. Killian walked into the hall, and saw Captain Rheinallt giving orders to a couple of servants while holding a quill and a parchment list on a wooden plank. They bowed to the Captain, then hurried through the kitchen doors while many others were cleaning and decorating the place. Rheinallt checked the list with his quill, then he saw Killian, and beckoned at the knight with the feather while smiling. Sir Killian approached him. "Preparing for a feast?"
"Yes, my boy," the Captain said heartily. "Tonight, we will hold a celebration for those who will move on to the second round of the tournament! Countless people will come from the market, so these grey halls must look more welcoming, lest we scare them away!" A red mat unrolled through the floor and between the long tables, but it stopped midway at Rheinallt's leg. "Oops! Let's move out of the way." He and Killian stepped aside, allowing the servant to completely unroll the mat.
"You've already done more than enough for us and for the contestants, Captain," Sir Killian said while looking at the busy servants around the hall. "We're truly thankful, but we must leave before the first light of dawn, so I'm not sure if all of this is needed." Rheinallt chuckled while gesturing towards the front doors, then they both walked.
"Well, I've never hosted a competition in my long life, so I want to make your visit in this fort as memorable as possible," he sighed while still smiling. "One night of feasting, singing, and dancing, before I let you all go." Sir Killian patted the grey-haired soldier's shoulder.
"You are a generous leader, Captain," the knight said solemnly while they stepped outside and bright sunlight welcomed them. "These men and women are lucky to have you. I wish you prosperity and strength for years to come until the day of your peaceful retirement." Rheinallt nodded with a smile that formed wrinkles next to his eyes while giving the quill and the list to a saluting soldier, who then marched towards the Captain's hut-like office at the edge of the courtyard.
"I wish you the same, good hunter knight," Rheinallt said and shook Killian's hand. "Now, let's go, my boy! Eighth match can't wait forever." The Captain laughed and walked towards Judge Gaspar's carriage. The soldiers were still preparing the three caged wagons and some of the horses, so Sir Killian looked at the shadows of the high walls until he saw a faint glint of metal in a corner. The knight walked there, then he recognized Rodolf's silhouette, sitting on a rock and sharpening one of his many daggers with a whetstone.
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Chapter Fourteen - Abyssal Dreams (Part 1)
It was well into the night when Imilia left the training grounds. The duo had been sparring for many hours, and both of them were exhausted. Lyuben was alone in the center of the large training fields. The pale moonlight dimly illuminated the tall blades of dry grass. The whole place was creepy in the nighttime.
Lyuben paid attention to every noise around him. He could hear a songbird chirping an eerie tune in the distance as he walked towards the edge of the field.
Then, the price felt a freezing gale sweeping through the area, blowing fiercely through Lyuben’s messy hair. An odd chill spread through his entire body.
“Stop it, Lyuben! Stop it! You’re just imagining things.”
Dark, ethereal figures started to flicker in front of him, but the powerful wind swept them away. Oddly enough, Lyuben could recognize some of them.
Ḩ̴͇͖̍̋ḙ̶̢̫͓͓͋ĺ̴͇͇͈̪̃̉͗l̸̡̰̇̔̇͋͝ͅǒ̸̢̹͐͛̾̈́ ̸̬͖̉̀͛͋̓ā̸̞̩͚͉̩̀g̶͇̀a̸̍̋̚ͅi̵͚̮̮͍͚̿͐́̈́̎n̸͙̘̂̇̃̾,̶̢̢̖̥̽̉ ̸̮͎̱̇L̶̠̟̀́̓̄ý̴̞̫̝͕͒u̵͎̩͘b̴͈̂̍̀̿̚e̴̪͈̝̍͂̊̅n̸̦̝͉̊̔̌̉
Lyuben screamed as he clutched his head. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to fight off the voice booming through his mind.
“Get out! Get out! Get out!” Lyuben yelled.
Ĭ̷̧̖̯̳͉̌̂͒͝ ̴͔͖̖̻̕t̴͔͓̺̠͈̊͆̑́h̴͚̉̓ị̸̹̇̀͝ͅn̴͚̊̓̈́k̴̯͈̉͐̒ ̸̺͔̜̺̺̎̌̇̒į̴̭̞͈̾͜t̷̖̳͕̖͚̔̈́̓̓͘'̷̢̫̱͕̦͑̄̎̽s̸̟̔̈́̀̍͝ ̷̳͍͚͛̇̏͌t̸̖̱͕͊̔i̷̱̫͍̇͝ͅḿ̸̠͔̱͎̅̊̔͝e̸̺̯̍̍ ̷̝͛͛͝ẘ̶̛͕͎͙̒͘e̷̡̦͗͗̋͋̐ͅ ̶̡̤̠͚̣͌͑͠v̸͚̪̓i̸̬̊̇̃̀̕s̵̨̧̝̝̋̈́͛̚͠í̴̜̯͗̎͝t̷̼͚̟̯̿ ̵̩̼̺̒̿̀̂̕͜ţ̸͙̱͉̀̈̔̇͝h̶̡̡̞̰̾͆̀e̷͖̽̕ ̵̠͛̈́p̷̢̬̈́̕ä̴̲̈́̈́̃ş̵̔̂́̉t̷̥̅͠
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” A myriad of voices started to echo through his mind. Some were saying his name. Others were not. Lyuben couldn’t make out much. It was complete chaos. The teenager tried to run from the madness, but nothing happened. The strong wind knocked the prince off his feet, then another shrill scream pierced through his mind like a silver arrow. Lyuben opened his eyes and relaxed in submission staring up at the white moon before everything in his vision faded to white.
----
The white light dissolved into a colorful scene. Lyuben found himself walking in a peaceful meadow. It was drizzling slightly, but the sun’s hopeful rays still broke through the heavy clouds. Lyuben noticed how the rays split as they collided with every raindrop to form a majestic rainbow.
Yellow and white wildflowers were scattered randomly across the field. Lyuben could remember coming to this place often with his mother. In the center of the meadow, there was a girl with long black hair. Next to her, was a small child with light brown hair.
Is that...me? And my mom?
Together, they were training. Except with swords. Lyuben’s mother would show him a move, then Lyuben repeated, though in a much clumsier manner. Hjordis laughed as Lyuben slowly improved with each stroke. There was a loving expression on Hjordis’s face: Something that Lyuben had purged from his memory.
Love. What is love?
Lyuben could see a white glow surround both swords. Lyuben could tell it was something protective. It was an enchantment meant to keep something away. Something meant to keep Lyuben safe. But from what?
Lyuben’s thought was interrupted by the child version of himself: “Look mom! Look what I did yesterday!”
The boy put his small sword gently onto the ground and opened his palm. A black flower bud of smoke slowly formed in the prince’s hand. Both people watched as it slowly bloomed into a dark, fiery flower. It was a rose. Lyuben looked back at his mother’s face. Her smile had turned into a nasty scowl. She closed Lyuben’s hand, extinguishing the flames.
The child watched as the tendrils of smoke curled into the air and disappeared. “Did you like it?”
“No,” Hjordis snapped at her child, “And I never want to see it again.” She slapped the child across the cheek. “Do you understand me?”
Ow! How did that slap hurt me?
“Yes, mother.”
A dark fog started to consume the field. Lyuben looked around as the edges of it dissolved into the dark mist. As the abyssal mist inched closer, Lyuben saw his mother draw her sword. It radiated with a hopeful energy that made Lyuben take a few steps back. She whirled her blade though the air, sending waves of energy that pushed the black fog away.
Hjordis backed up closer to Lyuben as the fog persisted. It slowly closed in on the mother and child, before pulling them into the vast darkness too. Now Lyuben was alone in the meadow again. He felt himself spinning uncontrollably as the fog swirled around him.
----
Lyuben stopped spinning and found himself in a dark hall. A row of candles lined the rocky wall to light up the abandoned place. The prince began to walk forward aimlessly.
Where am I? What is this place?
The moment he began to do so, everything behind him started to crumble into ashes before dissipating into the dark abyss behind him.
Lyuben quickened his pace as the crumbling effect slowly crept forward. Cracks spread through the walls and floor of the chamber, some of them even in front of him. A strong, cold wind swept through the chamber, snuffing out many of the dim candles.
Lyuben could see the end of the hall. There was a circular door with innocent flower patterns inscribed on it with silver paint. Would he be fast enough to reach there? In a few moments, the walls had already disintegrated into the inky abyss. The cracks in the trail spread far ahead of Lyuben. If he stopped for a breath, Lyuben would plummet into the abyss.
Lyuben finally reached the door. He flung it open, revealing a hooded figure facing away from him. A rose peeked out from behind their dark robes.
Who was that..?
As Lyuben was about to step inside, the floor gave way beneath him. Lyuben screamed as he fell backwards into the endless darkness.
----
The fall seemed to continue for ages. Lyuben shut his eyes tightly as he descended faster and faster through the darkness. It didn’t make any difference though. The feeling was just the same.
C̶̛̰̉̅͝ṳ̴̢̢͉͎̓r̶̯̅ȉ̴̢̟̙̽̀̄̽ô̴̖̲̦̓͝ȗ̵̗͇̤͉̀̃̈͠ͅş̶̦̯̒̽͗̊,̴̣̰̻͍͙̿̄̈͐̃ ̵̯͕͍͑̋̑L̵̗͈͉̓́͝y̶̥͒̆ü̷͔̃̑̑͊b̴̺̯̲̫̠̑e̶̩̩͛̆̈͆n̷̬̠̤̝͛̕?̵̨̌́̃̇
Let me out of here! Let me out of this madness!
Ch. 14, pt. 2
(Note: This whole sequence, including the training sequence takes place after the sixth match and before/during the seventh)
---
Lyuben landed surprisingly softly on a grassy riverbank. Lyuben looked up at the night sky, then at the ground again. The ground was intact and the stars shone like diamonds in the night sky. Lyuben recognized this place too. It was called Friyena’s Falls. The twin waterfalls just out of sight were one of the most beautiful places in Malterra.
Lyuben walked along the riverbank to see the falls. The falls sprayed light mist into the air as they splashed into the crystal clear water below. The prince pointed out to himself the rock structures and monuments he used to climb as his mother waited below. His favorite one had been the rose shaped boulder that had been carved thousands of years ago by the rushing water.
On top of the rose, Lyuben saw a boy. Maybe ten or eleven years old? Was that him...again? The boy was standing on the tip of the rose-boulder’s large petals shooting purple blasts of magic in the sky. They exploded in the air like fireworks, sending purple shimmering dust into the air to mix with the sparkling mist. It was a beautiful sight to behold.
Another figure in a white gown entered, running past Lyuben, who seemed to have no effect on the scene at all.
“Lyuben? Lyuben!” she called. It was Hjordis.
Her gaze hovered over the spot where Lyuben was standing.
Can she...see me?
She looked away and chased after the boy on top of the rose statue. The boy, who Lyuben assumed to be a younger version of himself jumped upon seeing her. He cleared the purple shimmer floating in the sky quickly, but suddenly lost his balance. The boy fell into the water.
“Mom! Help!” The boy vanished under the surface of the water.
That’s right! There’s a mysterious whirlpool where the waterfall hits the water. Those who have fallen in never make it out alive. Wait...how did I make it out of there?
“Lyuben!” Hjordis screamed. She jumped into the water, not caring about her expensive clothes and jewelry. In a few long seconds, she emerged with the boy in her arms. The boy was unconscious. She kissed him lightly on the forehead.
“Never, never, do something like that again. I don’t want to see that magic,” she scolded caringly, “I value your life more than anything. You mean the world to me. That’s why I can’t let you practice magic. That's also why I won't let you drown because of it.”
Why is she talking about my magic of all things? Now? What does my magic have to do with drowning?
The scene around him shattered like glass, revealing another one behind it.
----
Lyuben now found himself behind a curtain in his parents’ room. They had the largest room in the house. Abstract paintings were scattered across the wall silver wall. There were two crystal chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling and two large beds for his parents. The prince could see his parents next to a large window that overlooked the castle gardens. They were arguing.
“You can’t do this!” his mother pleaded, “You can’t! There’s nothing wrong with him being gay. This boy is the greatest thing that happened to me. To you!”
“Not anymore.” The king turned away from his queen. “I must set an example for this kingdom. I can’t have a-”
“Watch your words,” the queen snapped at him, “He’s your son! Let him pursue his love! Let him be him!”
“Him is not what I want.”
“Since when did we get to choose? I’m the-”
“You’re what?”
“Nothing…”
In a blur of colors, the scene faded to another in the same room. Lyuben was still behind the orange silk curtains as he watched a new scene unfold in front of him.
“We have to kill him,” the queen said.
“I thought you liked him being gay?”
“Not that, idiot! I’m fine with that. His boyfriend poses a threat to this kingdom. This land. He knows...things that he shouldn't know. About Lyuben. About this kingdom.”
These aren’t my memories...how am I seeing this? What
“You know I’m all for killing that horrible boy, but why?”
“I…” Hjordis started. It was clear that she was trying to choose her words very carefully. “I can tell you another time. For now, you need to do as I say. You can have your way...showing the kingdom your hate for him being...him while I can help actually remove a...threat to this kingdom.”
His mother produced a dagger from her robes and handed it to the king. Lyuben silently followed them as they tiptoed down the stairs to a guest room on the second floor. They opened the door to reveal Lyuben’s boyfriend.
The prince charged at his parents, fully knowing he was almost nonexistent in the scene, but maybe...if he could stop them…
Lyuben released a dark ball of fire towards his mother. It passed through the large castle pillars and other obstacles that would have blocked it had this actually been real, but his mother slashed it into tiny ribbons of flame with another dagger before they disappeared into the air.
She slashed again ferociously, creating a long gash across Lyuben’s hand. Lyuben screamed. The scene vanished from around him, and Lyuben found himself alone in the empty field. The boy wiped away tears from his face. He didn’t know if it was from sadness or pain. It didn’t really matter.
Lyuben looked down at his hand, which was still stinging from the pain. He was holding his rose in the same hand, and one of its sharp thorns had sunk deep into his skin. His hand was bleeding profusely, so Lyuben took off his shirt below his robes to bandage his hand. Lyuben returned the rose to his pocket.
"I guess I'll be needing another shirt in that case," Lyuben paused, "If I can afford it with the money I have left."
Ę̴̦̆̉n̷̢̖̘͈̫͒̇͊̀̊j̶̡̧͌̚o̴̪͂͑͆͒y̴̙̾e̸̬̯͖͗̔̓̕͘d̵̢͍̙̥̻̊ ̸͙̯͈̙̦͑̐̇̀̚t̸͍̮̑̃́h̴̥̖̹̙̯̋̀͠ë̵̼́̋̎͠ ̸̼͓̭͍̗̋d̵̹͈̫̲̈́͂̉͂̈́ṟ̶̛͕̥͖̲̎́̂ḙ̶̣͛̕ͅa̶̼̭̭͗̀̀m̷̱͓͙͕̀̌̎,̶̦̰̤̹̱̊̀͝ ̵̥̫̜̰̘̎̕͝L̸͍͔̒ẏ̶̰̟̩͖͑ǘ̸̬͒̂͝b̶̖̊e̴̢͕̻͎͒̃̒̎͑n̸̺͐̔͂?̵̢̢̛͍̦̊̇̌̿
Lyuben shook his head. "Of course not. Why did you put me through all that?"
I̷̧̨͓̱̲͗̕͠͝ ̴̭͚̳̂̂͑h̶̼̆̽̊͌͛a̴̘̎̂͆̚v̴͉͊͑̓̉ḕ̸̮ ̵̳̎̇͒m̶̮͔̜̟͑ẙ̸͙̳̮͖̓͌͝͝ ̶͖̆̆̒̿̂r̷̘͓̘͌ě̷̝̗̫͕́̋͠a̸̢͕͎͂͝ͅͅs̷̳̫͔̎o̶͖̙̝̞͗͘n̸̝̍s̵̢̼̈́̏̀,̸̡̗̞̻̑ ̷̧̰̟̭͛ḇ̷̛̱̺͛͐o̸̼̅͊͗̄̈ÿ̵̨͈͇͕͎̆̕.̷̟̱͔͔̒ ̵̠͎͇̀̓̃͑̾N̴̺̞̦̈́̇̑̍͘ő̸̤͚̱̩͂ẉ̵͊̌̃͊,̸̡̠̪̻̏ ̸̡͓̫̂̔Ī̷̦̳̅ ̵̧̛͇͖͎͚̑̀͝ś̷̹͙̈́̊̚u̸͍̤̗̾̄̂̈g̶͚͑̊̀́ḡ̶̨̙̙͇̜̇̒̈e̷̫̖̋̀̈́̄̈ͅs̶̪̤̠̏̋ţ̵͉̜̗̔̆̚͝ ̶̼̩̮̉͆͊ẏ̷͉̺̀̆ö̶̬̝͇͍́͋̎́u̶̟̙̿ ̶̧͍̙́̀̄g̶͈̞̜̾o̵̺͌ ̶̘̓͐́̍b̴̛͙͖̉ä̶͎́̎c̶͈̗̰̼̗̎́k̷͓̇̅ ̶̝͉̂̄ť̷̨̙̮̣͔̂̇ò̴͍̿ ̸̢͈̘̜̭͊͒̑̊̌ŷ̷̘̳̟̭̋̕͠o̸̡̳̖͓͊̊͝ŭ̸̡̥̯̦̃̓̀͜r̸̯̮̬͊̆̈́ ̶̱͖͑̿̒̽͊r̵̡̫̈́̑̂͝ő̵̘̀͝o̴̻̝͖̳̾͐͋̐ḿ̷̪̜̳̜̏ ̶͈̪̤͈̋̆͆̕͜b̷̗̺̍̂͘è̸̗̅̚f̴̘̐̈́̊o̶̖̓r̵̟̙̹͍͠e̷̦͚͙̓̏ ̴̡̢̟̯͋̿Î̴̮͓̝͉͍ ̷̜̳̕d̷̘̖͙̩̺̈́̑͂͐̔o̸͇̝͈͙̔̿͗ ̶̗̩̯̀͑̿̕ͅi̷̥̬͖͇̽̎̇͗́t̴̗̓̌̌̊̕ ̵̧̪̘͆̃͂͘͜͝ḁ̶̧͚̒g̴̢̦̈́̾ạ̴͓̾̌̈́̂̅i̷̠͔̔̀ͅņ̴͍̞́̒̊͛.̸̧͎̭͊̉̂̋͜͝
He jumped up and started walking back to his room. Lyuben could hear cheering in the distance. Just then, the runaway prince realized that it was the afternoon already. The seventh match had just finished.
Wait. How long have I been like this?!
Also, this is the last in-game day for interactions with Ytsix. If you want to reach me, the best way to do so is Discord (Taylor Vich).
kek
But tika won by doing absolutely nothing.
The carriage trundled down the rocky path, Sturgar walking behind it. He paused momentarily confused. Why was he here again? He snapped out of his reverie as duke Nartheus poked his head out the carriage window, observing the passing scenery. Of course, security. That was his job, after all. Still, something didn't feel right. A strange feeling of impermanence drifted through his mind, as if this wasn't really happening. How could that be? He was here. He could feel the ground beneath his feet and the wind blowing by. How could this not be happening?
Suddenly, with a great crash, a tree toppled behind him, followed by another, and another. He whirled about, readying his weapon and signaling the driver to put as much distance between them as possible, as a great swath of trees was felled, ever approaching. Finally, from the tree line, a great beast emerged. Similar to the one the caravan had encountered on the voyage to Werther fortress, it was massive and black. It reared it's oily head and bellowed a challenge, before thundering towards him.
Slowly backing up, he suddenly tripped. Sturgar looked down and saw, to his horror, that the alloyed casing on his left leg was slowly melting away, dribbling down onto the ground like a thick paint. Panicking, he stumbled back again, toppling over. As he attempted to right himself he saw his arms begin to liquify. He shook his head in disbelief as his entire body slowly but surely melted like cream, flowing into great, big, golden puddles on the road. He stared up at the beast as it slowly approached him. It seemed to know he was helpless and quite enjoyed it. In a last effort, he swung his sword, only to find it had completely vanished, and his arm was but a rapidly disappearing stub. As the final layers of his armor vanished, he turned to look at himself. A mess of burnt skin and missing limbs, without that outer shell he was truly a pitiful sight. He whimpered weakly and began to slowly crawl away from the beast with the remaining stump of his right arm.
The Akon paced quietly behind him, savoring the moment. His skin began to chafe and bleed where it rubbed against the rough gravel and dirt. He glanced backwards furtively to see the scenery about him fade away, turning liquid and flowing away into nothingness. His heart racing and pulse pounding, he dragged himself desperately along the path, leaving a small trail of blood, as his surroundings vanished. Soon he was alone in a pure black void with the Akon, that horrid, ungodly animal that always trailed him ever so slowly.
He now realized how weak he was. Just days ago, emboldened by his victory, he had thought himself an unbeatable machine, a juggernaut of steel and blades. What a lie. He was a pitiful lump of flesh, to crippled to even walk, reliant on a shell of metal to even function properly. At last exhausted, he fell flat on his chest and waited for death. He had failed, he knew. Nartheus was far away, perhaps being hurt, or even dead. How disappointed he must be. How disappointed everyone must be! Zordroth, who had put so many hours of his time into forging, assembling, and honing his body. And even Grollan, who had trained him since childhood. He lay there, in his own pooling blood, waiting for death. The Akon ambled up to him, almost consolingly, and raised a massive clawed hand, before swiftly bringing it downwards.
With a rush or adrenaline, Sturgar awoke. In a panic, he patted himself dow, ensuring his body was still there, solid as ever. He sat up in the chair, reassured. He looked over to the duke, still asleep in the bed nearby. He rose, clutching his weapons for comfort. That had been strange, and terrifying. Thank the gods it was a dream. Still, it had been eerily realistic. He shuddered, thinking about the abyss. What a terrifying, unknown force. After making sure the guards were posted both inside and outside the room, Sturgar left, heading for the training grounds in the early morning for. He was, he now realized, nothing, a spec in the universe, utterly weak and completely powerless. He squared up against a dummy, carefully weighing his weapons. This would have to change.
Part 10: Conflicting Memory
Conscience was with Tresa in the sparring ground, waiting for her duel to begin later. She was in fighting gear, and whirled around, slicing a circle of mannequins with wooden short swords, dodging invisible attacks. Conscience’s form was nigh-perfect, as she had spent all her childhood training for battles such as these. Well not all of it…
A little girl (It was her!) wandering about a market, vendors yelling prices. A warm hand on her shoulder, her mother standing behind her. They stopped, a tradesman selling flowers in front of them. Words exchanged between her mother and him, strange words sounding like they were talking about flowers, but not really. They were talking about flowers, but not at the same time. A red flower exchanged-
Red blood spilling over the floor, a man (Not a man! That demon!) standing by bodies on the floor. Hefting his sword, he advanced, a coat of arms and a throne leaking black smoke, black smoke everywhere, behind him. Black tendrils flowing from her, but retreating from this figure-
Snapping out of the visions, she stood in shock, Tresa’s face mirroring hers, as she looked at her surroundings. Her blunt, wooden practice short swords in splinters, and the surrounding mannequins in shreds on the ground. She looked down at her hands, where traces of black magic receded into her skin, purple magic rising to replace it.
“Wha-what happened?” Conscience asked, voice shaking slightly.
“I- I don’t know. You were practicing, then you paused for a second, and suddenly this black magic overtook your blades, and then well…look at the mannequins and the swords. What’s going on with you?” Tresa looked scared.
“I don’t know half of it, and the other half I don’t even know how to explain.” Conscience’s emotions were, unusually, showing on her face, scared and sad in equal measure. The two, horrible memories, one of which she had pushed out of her mind, and the other of which she had no idea of exactly what it was.
“Try for me,” Tresa’s voice broke, “I can’t help you unless you actually explain.”
“I’m sorry.” The memories continued to press, until suddenly her resistance broke.
The little girl continued walking through the market, her mother behind her. A vendor of sweets, holding candy fluff, called out to her, waving one in the hair. She perked up, turning to her mother, a question on her lips, but confronted with the denial on her mother’s face, the question died, and she turned her face down, in sadness, but most of all anger. Something dark stirred beneath the surface, and she twisted her hand, then…a single footstep-
A single footstep seemed to take a million years to echo towards the little girl, who sat, tears streaking down her face, the black magic (Was that the magic that she had just used?) twisting around her palms, not advancing towards the demon, but not receding into her body. She looked up, seeing deep into its eyes, looking at all the atrocities within its soul, before the heft of the sword, the displaced air of its passage whirling towards her-
Conscience was jerked out of the stupor again, the same black magic twirling around her, the grass at her feet blackened and twisted. Looking up, Tresa was fine, luckily, but she looked at Conscience with a fearful gaze. Conscience’s mouth opened, trying to explain without mentioning, but Tresa stepped backwards into a pool of shadow, disappearing into a portal of her magic. Well, another friendship ruined, Conscience thought grimly. Just have to get past this stupid match and not lose control. Then, answers will be mine.
Eight
Winged Storyteller
Music
Chapter Fifteen - Captured (Part 1)
Lyuben roamed aimlessly around the city’s market. Civilians sat behind small stalls with colorful items placed neatly in front of them. All the clothes were too expensive for Lyuben at the moment. He had only two gold coins left, and this city was much richer than the others already. Lyuben noticed his stomach grumbling, so he bought a cheap sandwich from a tall vendor with a thick moustache.
Great! Now I’m down to one gold coin! I can’t ask Judge Gaspar for money because I’m a stupid prince. Who would’ve thought I’d worry about something like this?
Lyuben was still thinking about his mother too. The memories he had seen of her. She was the reason his boyfriend was dead. Lyuben sighed.
Why did mother hate my magic so much? Why did she want him dead anyways? What danger did he pose anyways? He was the most loving, caring, amazing-
A gentle hand tapped his shoulder. “Lyuben!”
“Ayden? You’re still here?”
The messenger smiled. “I managed to find a room here, and I made up another story for my manager. I wanted to see you compete in the tournament!” Ayden looked at Lyuben’s hand. “So, where were you yesterday? I didn’t see you in the stands.”
“I was at the training grounds,” Lyuben responded.
“Ah, I see-”
“Unconscious.”
“Oh.”
“And I stabbed myself with my rose here.” Lyuben gestured to his messily bandaged hand.
“Yikes…what sort of training was this?”
“Ummm...Let’s just call it mind training.”
Ayden laughed a little bit. Lyuben smiled a little too. Ayden’s happiness was contagious. The messenger offered Lyuben his hand and they strolled around the lively market together.
“So...who ended up winning the seventh match?”
“It was odd. Tika, that new contestant won the match, but the two never fought. Rumor has it that Arn ventured into the abyss and was humbled by a some abyssal monster.”
“Wow. I had no idea the abyss was that powerful…”
“The abyss is quite fascinating. I have been reading about it recently from books in the Planar Archive.”
“The Planar Archive? Isn’t that-”
“Forbidden?” Ayden finished Lyuben’s sentence, “Yes. I had to sneak in there. Many people go mad with all that knowledge around them, but I knew exactly what I was looking for.”
“What books did you...uhm...steal?”
“I’ll show you.” The two boys stopped at a yellow bench under a large maple tree.
Once they sat down, Ayden pulled out two books from his messenger bag. One was a very deep purple while the other was green. Both books had fancy gold lettering on the front. The first book, the purple one, was about the history of the Dusk Rose Legion.
“As you know, The Dusk Rose Legion ruled Malterra before your family with a firm hand. This group was also very connected with the abyss. They were some of the very few people that worshipped the abyssal god. When I tried to research more, I found almost no information on this god. I couldn’t even find the god’s name. One chapter mentioned he was the oldest of all the gods and the protector of all of them, contrary to most people’s opinions on the abyss and its magic.”
“So...what role does the abyss play in this world? I thought it was purely evil magic.”
“For the most part, it is, yes. But there’s something important about the abyss that keeps this world in balance. Something vital that we’ve managed to forget as time progressed. Evil is only a matter of opinion after all.”
“I see…”
“What I do know is that the raw power inside the abyss is tempting to almost anything. Beasts consumed by its dark powers. Even the mysterious abyssal god, who seeked to contain the abyss fell to its tempting powers.”
“Wow. What about the other book?” Lyuben asked.
“It’s the Rakhadi family tree,” Ayden opened the book and traced his fingers along the lines on the first page. I managed to trace it back to you.”
“Me?!” Lyuben exclaimed.
“Yes. You and your mother are the last living descendants of Emperor Rakhadi.”
“My mother? What? She hates magic!”
“She killed off the Dusk Rose Legion and the rest of her living family ten years before you were born.”
“She what?!”
“Without using magic in a duel once.”
“That’s what the voice meant,” Lyuben muttered to himself, “That’s why it said I was becoming like Rakhadi. My magic isn’t like his...it is his! I'm his family...” Lyuben turned to Ayden. “I’m scared. What if I become like him?”
Ayden scooted closer to Lyuben, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “You won’t become Rakhadi, Lyuben.”
Lyuben looked into Ayden’s hazel eyes. “What tells you that?”
“You’re Lyuben. And you will always be Lyuben to me.”
The two shared a moment of silence as civilians bustled through the busy market around them. The noises of the market was nothing but a quiet murmur to their ears as they comforted each other.
“Thank you, Ayden,” Lyuben smiled, “You don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”
A girl came and sat down on the bench next to Lyuben. She was wearing a long scarlet dress, drawing the attention of people around them. “Hi, Lyuben!”
“Oh. Cecilia! How has everything been going here? Have you been watching the other matches?”
“Actually, no! I was preparing a surprise for you!” she responded sweetly. Ayden’s eyes narrowed. He could sense something odd with Cecilia’s behavior.
“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”
“You’ll have to come see! Are you free right now?”
“Of c-” Ayden tugged on the sleeve of Lyuben’s black robe. “What?”
“She seems a little...well...suspicious,” Ayden whispered in Lyuben’s ear.
“She’s my hometown friend. What could she do? She can’t use magic or wield a weapon. I can come meet you after I’m done.”
Ayden sighed as he let go of Lyuben’s rose. He gave Lyuben a look of caution before Cecilia led Lyuben out of the market.
Chapter 15, Part 2
----
“Where are we going?” Lyuben asked as they entered the outskirts of the city. There were very few people living here. Most of it was filled with dead trees and abandoned houses where weapons were stored.
Cecilia stopped next to an old, one story house. Through a small window, Lyuben could see a light flickering in the back illuminating a table with broken chairs littered around it. There was also a partially ripped couch with rose designs all over it next to the window.
“We’re here!”
“This is where the surprise is?”
“I’ve been staying here for a very cheap price. I didn’t want to raise any suspicious about Malterra.”
“But you’re wearing the fanciest dress possible!”
“Do you not trust me?”
Lyuben started to get an odd feeling. “Yes. Of course I do. You-you’re my best friend.”
Cecilia opened the door. It creaked loudly as it opened to reveal the worn down house. Lyuben looked around, trying to spot the “surprise” in the room.
“Stay right here,” Cecilia instructed. She disappeared down a long hall. Lyuben’s head started to hurt. Voices inside his head seemed to be yelling at him, but one thing was the most prominent among them:
G̶̠̠͑̊̌̄͗ȩ̴͕̪̈́t̴̪̞͕̾̀͐͘ ̷̛͔͍̘̗̹͒ơ̶̪̫̼͘ͅu̵͉̦̺̱͋̂̄̆̇ẗ̸͇̠͖́̽̈́͘!̴̻̹͋̒̍ ̵̝͓̿̓͊͝N̸͙̜͝Õ̵̰̬̼̳W̴͓̙̽͂̎͌̇!̶̝̭̫̑̽̇̿
Lyuben heard a lock click from the weird door behind him. The window shutters all slammed closed and a bright light flickered on in the room, revealing two people: Ryan and Arin. Lyuben recognized them. Both of them were close to his mother.
“Wh-what’s going on here? Cecilia?”
Lyuben heard light footsteps come down the hall. “I think it’s time you come back home…”
“Cecilia!? How could you?” Lyuben yelled, “I thought...I thought you understood…”
Those last words triggered the memory of the night he ran away. Lyuben could hear himself yelling the same lines to his parents. It was betrayal. Again.
No no no no no...not my friend too…
S̴̰̎í̴̩l̸̖̕l̵͈͋ŷ̸͔ ̷̜͂b̴̠̾o̵̬̍ẏ̶͙.̶͖̊.̵̠͂.̶̫̚ÿ̵̥ȏ̶͓ư̸͔ ̷̩͒s̵̹̓h̵͉͒ö̶͓ṵ̶̾l̷͎͠d̵̘͘ ̷̟̈k̸͙̚n̵͘͜o̵̗̒w̴͖̌ ̴̬̾n̵͍̈́ő̸̭t̷͈̒ ̵͕̔t̴̳͗ō̶͍ ̸͔͠t̵́ͅr̶̙͘ǘ̴̖s̴̝̒ẗ̵̲́ ̶̞͘a̵͉̒n̷͕̂y̸̰̏o̶̤͊n̶͈̽ę̸͛.̶͑ͅ ̷̼̋Ë̵̺́v̷̠͛e̸̜͝n̵̡͝ ̵̤͌A̷̳͌y̶͖̋d̸̲̀e̶͔̊n̵̺͗ ̵͈̃a̶̲͗n̶͓̈́d̵̓͜ ̶̄ͅI̴͈͑m̸̝̿i̷̬͛l̶͈͌ḭ̵͗ạ̸̈ ̵̥̀ẅ̸̮́ĩ̴̲l̴̙̍l̵̙̾ ̶̟̾t̴̨͝u̶͙̚r̴͈̊ṉ̶́ ̸͚̏ö̸͍́n̵͖̏ ̸̗̕y̴̫̓ȯ̶͔ų̸̊ ̵̼̈́s̶͕̈́o̷̧͐o̷̭̽n̵̗̑.̴̲̿ ̸̫͘T̵̞̽h̶̳̕a̵̳̿t̶̰͛ ̴͎͂í̷̩s̵̤̑ ̷̖̒i̵̩͑f̷̌͜ ̷̛̘y̸̨͘o̶̩͠ủ̴̪ ̷͕̓š̶̟è̶̙e̵͗͜ ̵̫̃t̸̢̓h̷̳̿ë̴̞́m̴͉̊ ̴͈̒a̷͕̓g̴͕̊ā̵̡ḯ̷͕n̶̳̈́.̸̞̉.̷̝̏.̶̯̋
Lyuben lowered his stance slightly. Dark flames filled his hands.
“Let me out!” Lyuben demanded, “I’ll kill you if- if I have to.”
“You think you can defeat me, boy?” Arin asked.
Ryan unsheathed his sword and stepped closer to Lyuben. “I don’t think we’re the ones in danger, little prince. Come with us, and you won’t get hurt.”
“No! I’ll never! I can’t go back there!”
Arin shook her head. “Have it your way then.” The witch drew a sigil in the air like Imilia would, but a blast of lightning shot forward from it. Lyuben cast his flames at Arin’s spell, but it did nothing to stop the electricity. The spell connected with Lyuben’s chest, sending him flying into the wall.
“Someone help!”
U̷̫̅s̵̖̓ȅ̴͙ ̸̫̃y̸̨͆ô̵̠u̶̞̇r̷͇͂ ̷̤̚r̶͎̈́ỏ̴͖s̷̮͗ė̶̥!̷̈͜ ̷̲̀K̷͍͊i̴̬̚l̸̯̒ḷ̶̍ ̵̤̍ä̷͇́l̶̨̊l̵̲̓ ̸̥͛ö̸̙f̸̼͝ ̷̠̌t̷͈́h̶͜͠e̷̱̽m̸͈̅!̸̙͐
I can’t! I won’t! I don’t want to kill them.
Lyuben fired a spell at Ryan, but he deflected it with his sword. The deflected spell caused a vase above Lyuben to explode, showering glass pieces all over him. His face and hands were bleeding from the sharp glass pieces and his cheap clothes were burnt by the heat of Arin’s spell. This wasn’t even a contest. Worst of all, Cecilia was watching the entire scene unfold with a wicked smirk spread across her innocent face.
“That’s right, Lyuben,” Ryan stepped forward, reaching his hand out to grab Lyuben. The prince drew out the rose from his robes, slashing Arin’s hand with its thorns. The soldier screamed in pain as he withdrew his hand.
“That’s it, little prince.” Ryan raised his sword up high.
Someone! Help!
A window suddenly shattered and a man entered the bright room. The man drew his sword, which he kept on his back and charged at Ryan, forcing the soldier to pivot and block the attack. It took Lyuben a few moments to realize who it was. It was Ayden!
“Get up Lyuben! Run!” Ayden shouted as he parried another blow from Ryan. Lyuben got up slowly and made his way to the open window. Arin ran to the other side of the room to stop him. With a newfound energy, Lyuben cast three dark arrows through the air. Arin dove to the side, the arrows missing her by a few inches. Lyuben pressed forward casting more dark energy towards his opponent, but Arin was simply quicker. She dodged all of Lyuben’s spells without giving him a direct pathway to escape through the window. Out of the corner of his eye, Lyuben could see a scowl on Cecilia’s face. That scowl reminded Lyuben of the expression his father wore as Lyuben confronted them on that fateful night. It was all too similar. Only this time, it was more difficult to get away.
------
Ụ̵̌s̶̤͐e̶̞͗ ̴̏ͅṱ̷̆h̷̢͋e̷͇͛ ̴̛̙r̸̻̚ő̸̜ş̵͆e̵̮̿!̵̣̕ ̶̯̕Ų̷͑ś̴̘e̷̫̊ ̵̲̚ẗ̸͙́ḩ̸͗e̶̢͠ ̴͍͂a̵̜̚b̵͍͌ỹ̸̝s̶͕̍ş̵̛!̵̫̈́ ̶̮͂C̴̞̒o̴̯̅n̷̤̈t̸͓̿ŕ̶̰ȏ̸͎ḷ̷̈ ̶͍͌ÿ̵̫́o̵͚̍ǘ̴̳r̶͇͝ ̶͇͒p̵̲̈o̴̺͐w̶̻̃ȅ̴̮ŕ̷͉!̷͎͌
Chaos engulfed the abandoned house. The sound of steel striking steel resonated through the air while repeated explosions spread colored smoke and light through the room. Cecilia had now ducked behind a countertop, trying to protect herself from the chaos unfolding in the house. Ryan pressed forward, forcing Ayden to play defensive. His repeated strikes coming from both sides forced Ayden to be hyper aware. One misstep and Ayden would be dead. Lyuben on the other hand seemed to be winning. Arin was working on reinforcing her shields as Lyuben’s blasts repeatedly pummeled them. There seemed to be no room for Arin to attack.
Ryan continued his rapid strikes. He could see Ayden running out of breath. Ayden couldn’t keep up with the greatest knight of Malterra for much longer. Ayden parried another strike, and then another.
“I need to do something. And fast.” Ayden said to himself.
Ayden blocked another strike from Ryan, then flawlessly transitioned into a thrust which caught the knight in an awkward position. His hands were twisted above his head as he blocked Ayden’s strike. Right as Ayden was about to strike again, Ryan kicked Ayden in the stomach with his metal boot. Ayden dropped his sword in pain. The messenger boy clutched his stomach in pain.
“No!” Lyuben screamed. He shot a spell at Ryan which the soldier had to dodge quickly, separating Ryan and Ayden. Ayden picked up his sword and readied himself to fight again. This split second gifted Arin an opening. She seized the moment, levitating the tiny glass shards around the room and sent them flying toward the prince. Lyuben gasped, creating a swath of flames to intercept the glass. A few shards filtered through the flames, but luckily missed Lyuben. A bright ball of light formed in Arin’s hands as the flames vanished into the air. She cast it towards Lyuben. Though it moved rather slowly through the air, something about the energy captivated Lyuben. The mage tried to raise his hands, but they felt incredibly heavy. Any dark magic that formed in Lyuben’s hands fizzled out instantly.
Ľ̶̻y̶͉͒ū̶͜b̶͕̈́e̵̼͛ń̶̲!̶̼̍ ̶͕͗S̷͇͋ņ̸̈́a̶͂ͅp̴̬͝ ̸̯̉ȏ̶̜u̸̎͜t̵͖̉ ̴͎̐o̴̪̐f̸̜͝ ̸͓̚i̶̥͆t̶͕͠!̵̧͗
Lyuben suddenly snapped out of the spell. He ran out of the way just as the ball of light exploded. The dark smoke it produced made the room pitch black. A blast of blue energy caught Lyuben in the head. The room suddenly went silent before Lyuben crumpled to the floor.
Another blue light lit up the smoky haze and then Cecilia heard another person fall to the floor. When the smoke cleared, Cecilia saw Ayden first, then Lyuben below Ayden. Both of them weren’t moving.
“What should we do with the messenger boy?” Arin asked.
“Kill him!” Ryan shouted.
“No, let’s take him to the Queen. She will tell us what to do with him. We can take both Lyuben and Ayden together.”
Cecilia peeked outside. It appeared as though no one had seen the fight. “Quick, let’s go. We must return to Malterra as soon as possible. Most people will be getting ready for the eighth match soon.”
“What about Lyuben being in the tournament?” Ryan asked.
“Is that really a priority?”
The trio hauled Lyuben and Ayden’s limp bodies into the back of a carriage parked behind the house. Then, they closed it and sat in the front where they started their journey back to Malterra.
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Note to everyone: Lyuben has now been captured and taken away from the Tournament City. He will not be able to interact with any characters while in Malterra. This is taking place just before the Eighth match.
@shadow123 - There are three points which I wish to mention, but they're nothing serious:
- Terrodus never fell for the Abyss's power. He and his followers sometimes uses it as harmless tool for different situations (e.g. keep souls of the dead safe, send someone to the Abyssal gate), but they never use it as a weapon.
- Werther Fortress and the tournament market are two different places. The market is on a dam that's connected to the lake which surrounds the island fortress (they're not too close to each other, but people can see the fortress from the market, and vice versa).
- Neither the fort nor the dam are within the limits of a city/town. A majority of the fort's soldiers and the dam's folk do come from the nearby cities and towns, but those places aren't as close as the arenas. The fortress serves as a haven for the people of the region in case of an outbreak, and its soldiers keep the roads safe each day.
Edit: I've edited all necessary parts in my passage. Thanks for pointing the mistakes out.
First Round
Eighth Match