Alice hadn’t been away from Astral City long. It felt like an eternity already, a distant memory of the hidden fortress she had fled at the first chance. The streets, cold and sterile, had long ceased to comfort her, and she had taken refuge in the vast unknown of the Maalukian woods. For days, she navigated through the thick foliage, relying on instinct and the skills she’d learned from a life lived in shadows.
Her luck, though, had proven more than enough. A group of nomads, crossing through the woods on their journey, had found her. They took her in without hesitation, their kindness simple and without expectation. They taught her the ways of the land: which fruits and plants would sustain her and which would kill. They shared stories, vivid and rich, though spoken in no words at all. Through fluid movements, sweeping dances, and the haunting hum of their instruments, they wove tales that filled the air with magic. One story, in particular, stood out—a legend of creatures whose hearts burned with fire, eternal and unstoppable.
The nomads spoke of the Maalukian woods, once vast and endless, now diminished by a great calamity. An ancient reservoir of Naten—The Oasis—had collapsed during a bitter feud between two clans, wiping away much of the forest in one terrible moment of destruction.
The performance was mesmerizing, lasting long into the day. The twins' suns cast their harsh light upon the gathering, but the nomads’ music, sharp and sweet, cut through the heat, drawing an audience of birds, insects, and the very trees. Their dance swirled like a storm, creating an air of celebration that Alice couldn’t help but feel was meant for her arrival. Even though they never spoke, it felt as though their movements acknowledged her, welcoming her into their world—into their mystery. But the language of their gestures was foreign to her, and though their silence was not harsh, Alice couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that something was being left unsaid.
Then, as the setting sun dipped beneath the horizon, the mood shifted. The music grew darker, the tempo slowed, and the dancers' movements became stiff, urgent. A warning had come, a dark tale woven into the air. The nomads spoke of a relic, ancient and powerful, lying dormant in the heights of the mountains—peaks so sharp they seemed to tear at the very fabric of the sky. The legend spoke of a being, gifted beyond measure, who was on a relentless search for this relic. The air seemed to thrum with a sense of danger, and Alice felt it—a faint but unmistakable tug, a thread of something far more than just a warning. Something far closer.
Alice’s mind drifted as the nomads’ dance wove its tale. Her thoughts flooded with memories of her brother, her family—the faces that haunted her even in the silence of her dreams. How long had it been since she last saw them? Her heart twisted in horror as she watched the performance, each movement echoing the absence of the people she had once held dear. Her old world, her family, felt so distant now, so small compared to the land she had found herself stranded in.
And yet, despite the ache in her chest, her mind turned to another figure—the one who had brought all of this pain, this darkness, into her life. Belif. The foul breath, the heartless wretch of a man who had once bound her in chains, dragging her from everything she had known. His eagerness, his relentless search for something—perhaps it was the very relic the nomads spoke of. Could he be the one, gifted with a singular purpose, seeking to claim it? The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
But Belif, cosmic terror? His short stature, his crude personality, hardly screamed of such a monstrous force. And yet, his pursuit of power had always felt wrong, as if something far darker lay beneath his every word and action. Maybe, just maybe, he was the figure in the nomads’ story—a relentless searcher, bound to bring destruction.
Her thoughts snapped back to the present as she stood at the base of the Alps. The haunting cries of animals echoed in the distance, unlike the sounds she had once known on the islet she called home. The land was different here, vast and wild, far bigger than anything she had ever encountered. Her old world seemed so small now in comparison.
She wasn’t even sure how she had escaped Belif’s clutches. It was a blur, a disjointed memory of fear, chains, and flight. But somehow, she had made it here, far from everything familiar.
She should have been seeking her way home—if such a place still existed. She should have been looking for the remnants of her life, or the remains of what had once been home. But there was something about this mountain, something deep and ancient calling to her, urging her to ascend. It was as though the mountain had been waiting for her, as if it held a purpose for her, one she had yet to understand.
Despite slipping away in the dead of night, the nomads had known. They always did. They had left her food, water, and supplies, as though they had expected this. As though they had known she was meant to find this path, meant to follow where it led.
She tightened her jacket against the cold, her scarf pulled tightly around her face. There was no turning back. Her feet itched to move, her body compelled to take that first step into the unknown.
Chapter One:It Calls
-
Alice Akuma
- Novice
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Mon Mar 20, 2023 5:20 am
Re: Chapter One:It Calls
Alice began her journey with courage and wonder, stepping into the crisp breath of the Alps. The air near the base of the mountain tasted alive—infused with the fresh bite of vegetation and the damp, lingering kiss of the Forest of Resonance below. Each breath was like drinking from an ancient spring. But as she ascended, the air thinned, and so did the ease within her body—and worse, her mind.
Gone were the gentle calls of birds and chatter of woodland creatures. Instead, what remained were guttural clashes in the white silence—animal fights hidden within the thick snowfall. Tremors from their strikes traveled through the ice-caked ground, and when they roared, her knees buckled involuntarily. The mountain was alive—but not with peace. It seethed, it hunted.
She longed to turn back. She ached for retreat. But the path behind her was swallowed by the presence of something else: a strange beast, cloaked in streaks of iridescent blue, stalking her like a shadow stitched to her soul. Whether it was the same creature mauling the others in the mist, she couldn’t say—and lacked the courage to find out.
She pressed forward with fear coiled tight in her chest, regret clawing at her every step. Only the intermittent chime—faint and crystalline like wind catching a glass harp—offered her reprieve. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Every time it rang, her heartbeat softened, as if the mountain itself had blinked.
Her salvation, in these biting heights, was the nomads’ jacket—crafted from leathers and fibers unknown to modern weavers. When her gloves slipped or her scarf loosened, the winds of the Alps flayed her with burning cold, cutting through her skin like blades. But beneath the nomad gear, she was not only warm—she was sweating. Beads of moisture trailed down her temple, crystallizing the moment they dropped, forming gems of frozen light in her wake.
She gazed upward and found the world was carved in ice and sunfire.
“Unbelievable..." she muttered, breathless. "It’s mid-day, and I feel like I walk on the same plane as the sun."
Above her, the twin stars rolled across the heavens. One shone a tender pink, the other an intense white—Xelphis and Solara, the Nomads called them. Their combined light was not merely illumination, but substance. It crashed against the mountain peaks like waves of celestial fire, and the high-altitude, condensed naten refracted their brilliance into something new.
Bridges of frozen light formed—arching, glowing constructs that stretched across ravines and spanned from peak to peak. They shimmered with a crystalline sheen, forming solid pathways through the impossible. She stared in disbelief as small flickers—Elvs,danced across them, using the radiance to quickly ascended the tips of the world’s edge.
Alice turned, looking over her shoulder.
To attempt the jagged, crumbling climb with no gear… or risk the unproven bridges of light… or worse, turn back and face the beast whose eyes burned like the twin suns?
"…Scaling the mountain isn’t impossible," she muttered. "But facing a pack of unknown Elvs could be worse than death."
Then—the howl.
It came not from below, but beside her, as if the mountain itself had opened a mouth and screamed. It was a sound carved from thunder and hunger. A serrated howl laced with malice, a cry that cracked the air and turned her veins to ice. It reverberated through the Alps like an echo of approaching extinction, and every slope, tree, and stone seemed to listen. Even the winds fled, pushing her towards the bridges of light.
Alice didn’t wait.
"Fuck it. Ive a better chance killing rapist than whatever the fuck that was."
She dashed forward in a blur. The bridges flickered, bending like mirages. But she gambled her life on them. Drawing on her naten, she triggered an Arbiter. Her body ignited into a streak of pink lightning, leaving crackling echoes as she leapt across the radiant spans, zigzagging across light-pillars that climbed into the heavens. It was an improvised Arbiter the likes of which are always eman exclusive drain on the body.
She collapsed behind a formation of stone, lungs struggling in the paper-thin air. Every breath rasped, her body shuddering under the weight of fatigue and fear and began fumbling through her pack. Her trembling fingers found a bug—the same species she’d seen the nomads eat on her first day. One of them had taken a breath and dove into the icy sea, remaining submerged till morning. She’d thought he’d died, only to be told: “He’s fine.”
She swallowed it whole, bracing.
The next minute was an eternity. Her chest tightened like a fist. Her throat spasmed, lungs clawing for breath. She gasped, panic a rising tide as darkness crept in from the edges of her vision. But then… something shifted.
A click in her ribs.
A bloom in her lungs.
And she breathed.
Relief washed over her—so pure, so intense it nearly broke her. The kind of relief only known to those who had already accepted death. She sobbed a single exhale, and tilted her head to the sky.
What greeted her was nothing short of divine.
The auroras.
They danced like celestial serpents, rolling across the heavens in rivers of color—pink, green, blue, violet. They wove across the twin suns’ light, slipping into the folds of the sky like threads of divine silk. The mountain peaks reflected their hues, turning white snow into opal fire.
But it wasn’t just beauty—it was sensation.
Alice could feel them—actually feel them. When the light touched her skin, it sang. A song without words, but filled with longing and joy and things she didn’t have names for. Her arms prickled with energy, and her thoughts quieted.
And in one breathless moment… she could hear them.
Not music.
Not voices.
But memories.
Of glaciers dreaming. Of winds whispering names long forgotten. Of Elvs laughing on bridges of light. Of something vast and old and kind watching from behind the aurora.
Alice stood in silence.
Not because she feared what followed.
But because, for the first time since her ascent began—
She felt safe.
“So beautiful… how can light sing? Or be felt?”
The thought drifted through her as she bathed in the celestial glow. Bliss curled around her like smoke, filling every inch of her skin, her bones, her breath. It was not mere beauty—it was a reverberation of joy through her very nerves, a kind of living ecstasy that made her feel untouchable. Invincible. As though the mountain itself had welcomed her into its secrets.
But the high never lasts.
Just beyond the veil of shimmering color, a figure began to emerge—walking through the opal fire as if it parted for them. The aurora twisted unnaturally in their presence, its hues contorting into black and green serpents that slithered around the figure before snapping back into light as they fled their proximity. The air, once humming with warmth and wonder, now tensed—like a bowstring drawn too tight.
Alice narrowed her eyes, the bliss souring into dread.
“Tsk,” she muttered under her breath. “The second you start feeling good… here comes a damn problem.”
Gone were the gentle calls of birds and chatter of woodland creatures. Instead, what remained were guttural clashes in the white silence—animal fights hidden within the thick snowfall. Tremors from their strikes traveled through the ice-caked ground, and when they roared, her knees buckled involuntarily. The mountain was alive—but not with peace. It seethed, it hunted.
She longed to turn back. She ached for retreat. But the path behind her was swallowed by the presence of something else: a strange beast, cloaked in streaks of iridescent blue, stalking her like a shadow stitched to her soul. Whether it was the same creature mauling the others in the mist, she couldn’t say—and lacked the courage to find out.
She pressed forward with fear coiled tight in her chest, regret clawing at her every step. Only the intermittent chime—faint and crystalline like wind catching a glass harp—offered her reprieve. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Every time it rang, her heartbeat softened, as if the mountain itself had blinked.
Her salvation, in these biting heights, was the nomads’ jacket—crafted from leathers and fibers unknown to modern weavers. When her gloves slipped or her scarf loosened, the winds of the Alps flayed her with burning cold, cutting through her skin like blades. But beneath the nomad gear, she was not only warm—she was sweating. Beads of moisture trailed down her temple, crystallizing the moment they dropped, forming gems of frozen light in her wake.
She gazed upward and found the world was carved in ice and sunfire.
“Unbelievable..." she muttered, breathless. "It’s mid-day, and I feel like I walk on the same plane as the sun."
Above her, the twin stars rolled across the heavens. One shone a tender pink, the other an intense white—Xelphis and Solara, the Nomads called them. Their combined light was not merely illumination, but substance. It crashed against the mountain peaks like waves of celestial fire, and the high-altitude, condensed naten refracted their brilliance into something new.
Bridges of frozen light formed—arching, glowing constructs that stretched across ravines and spanned from peak to peak. They shimmered with a crystalline sheen, forming solid pathways through the impossible. She stared in disbelief as small flickers—Elvs,danced across them, using the radiance to quickly ascended the tips of the world’s edge.
Alice turned, looking over her shoulder.
To attempt the jagged, crumbling climb with no gear… or risk the unproven bridges of light… or worse, turn back and face the beast whose eyes burned like the twin suns?
"…Scaling the mountain isn’t impossible," she muttered. "But facing a pack of unknown Elvs could be worse than death."
Then—the howl.
It came not from below, but beside her, as if the mountain itself had opened a mouth and screamed. It was a sound carved from thunder and hunger. A serrated howl laced with malice, a cry that cracked the air and turned her veins to ice. It reverberated through the Alps like an echo of approaching extinction, and every slope, tree, and stone seemed to listen. Even the winds fled, pushing her towards the bridges of light.
Alice didn’t wait.
"Fuck it. Ive a better chance killing rapist than whatever the fuck that was."
She dashed forward in a blur. The bridges flickered, bending like mirages. But she gambled her life on them. Drawing on her naten, she triggered an Arbiter. Her body ignited into a streak of pink lightning, leaving crackling echoes as she leapt across the radiant spans, zigzagging across light-pillars that climbed into the heavens. It was an improvised Arbiter the likes of which are always eman exclusive drain on the body.
She collapsed behind a formation of stone, lungs struggling in the paper-thin air. Every breath rasped, her body shuddering under the weight of fatigue and fear and began fumbling through her pack. Her trembling fingers found a bug—the same species she’d seen the nomads eat on her first day. One of them had taken a breath and dove into the icy sea, remaining submerged till morning. She’d thought he’d died, only to be told: “He’s fine.”
She swallowed it whole, bracing.
The next minute was an eternity. Her chest tightened like a fist. Her throat spasmed, lungs clawing for breath. She gasped, panic a rising tide as darkness crept in from the edges of her vision. But then… something shifted.
A click in her ribs.
A bloom in her lungs.
And she breathed.
Relief washed over her—so pure, so intense it nearly broke her. The kind of relief only known to those who had already accepted death. She sobbed a single exhale, and tilted her head to the sky.
What greeted her was nothing short of divine.
The auroras.
They danced like celestial serpents, rolling across the heavens in rivers of color—pink, green, blue, violet. They wove across the twin suns’ light, slipping into the folds of the sky like threads of divine silk. The mountain peaks reflected their hues, turning white snow into opal fire.
But it wasn’t just beauty—it was sensation.
Alice could feel them—actually feel them. When the light touched her skin, it sang. A song without words, but filled with longing and joy and things she didn’t have names for. Her arms prickled with energy, and her thoughts quieted.
And in one breathless moment… she could hear them.
Not music.
Not voices.
But memories.
Of glaciers dreaming. Of winds whispering names long forgotten. Of Elvs laughing on bridges of light. Of something vast and old and kind watching from behind the aurora.
Alice stood in silence.
Not because she feared what followed.
But because, for the first time since her ascent began—
She felt safe.
“So beautiful… how can light sing? Or be felt?”
The thought drifted through her as she bathed in the celestial glow. Bliss curled around her like smoke, filling every inch of her skin, her bones, her breath. It was not mere beauty—it was a reverberation of joy through her very nerves, a kind of living ecstasy that made her feel untouchable. Invincible. As though the mountain itself had welcomed her into its secrets.
But the high never lasts.
Just beyond the veil of shimmering color, a figure began to emerge—walking through the opal fire as if it parted for them. The aurora twisted unnaturally in their presence, its hues contorting into black and green serpents that slithered around the figure before snapping back into light as they fled their proximity. The air, once humming with warmth and wonder, now tensed—like a bowstring drawn too tight.
Alice narrowed her eyes, the bliss souring into dread.
“Tsk,” she muttered under her breath. “The second you start feeling good… here comes a damn problem.”
-
Sophia Van Gongorei
- The Orphic
- Posts: 38
- Joined: Tue May 11, 2021 4:16 pm
Re: Chapter One:It Calls
It was the night mother herself, Sophia. Not the Sophia etched in ancient tapestries, wreathed in starlight and shadow, but a woman shrouded in calculated mundanity. To reveal even a sliver of her true form would broadcast her arrival like a supernova, and subtlety was paramount in this venture. She wore the guise of a wanderer, her face a mask of soft hazel eyes that scanned the frozen landscape with unnervingly sharp focus. Her hair, the color of spun moon shadows in its true form, was now braided into practical plaits, the dark strands extending past her shoulders, down to her hips, almost mimicking the black serpents the aurora had briefly conjured.Just beyond the veil of shimmering color, a figure began to emerge—walking through the opal fire as if it parted for them. The aurora twisted unnaturally in their presence, its hues contorting into black and green serpents that slithered around the figure before snapping back into light as they fled their proximity. The air, once humming with warmth and wonder, now tensed—like a bowstring drawn too tight.
Alice narrowed her eyes, the bliss souring into dread.
“Tsk,” she muttered under her breath. “The second you start feeling good… here comes a damn problem.”
The frozen winds of the Alps, notorious for their bone-deep bite, seemed to respect her presence, swirling around her less like an assault and more like a respectful current avoiding an immovable stone. This was partly due to the sleek, dark fur that draped her shoulders and back, a cloak of formidable warmth and otherworldly origin. Woven from the pelt of a Zolkai, a creature whispered about in forgotten lore, kin to the mythic Winged Yeti, each plum of its ebon feathers pulsed with a contained heat that defied the glacial air. She had earned this protection, a grim necessity claimed after a brutal, solitary hunt when she realized the unforgiving heights she would need to traverse. It hugged her frame with purpose, a bulwark against the dastardly winds.
Yet, beneath the competent exterior, a disquiet gnawed at her. She had come to these mountains seeking the next crucial fragment of a puzzle that would restore her fractured totality, but instead of clarity, she found a peculiar… suppression. Her magic, usually a roaring inferno within, felt damped, muted. It was as if something, some unseen force, was actively interceding, throttling her connection to the unseen currents that usually flowed through her like breath. While this diminished power aided her current need for inconspicuous travel – hiding the coiling essence of the nether from the searching gaze of the twin suns – it was nonetheless unnerving.
As she navigated the chaotic beauty of the aurora, she observed its bizarre reaction to her presence. It recoiled, yes, but not before a flicker, a fleeting mimicry of the Deadflame that pulsed within her veins. For a heartbeat, the ethereal lights flared with ribbons of sickly green and consuming black, mirroring the power she carried, before the light recoiled as if burned, fleeing from the proximity of her inherent darkness. The ebon feathers of her Zolkai cloak seemed to drink in those fleeting dark rays, like a silent serpent gorging itself on ephemeral shadows, a macabre feast in the heart of light. A bitter thought slithered through her – had the twin suns abandoned her? Was this suppression their decree, a celestial penitence for choices made in the grand, echoing expanse of time? Perhaps. And she had accepted it, this burden, this restraint, as part of the price she was willing to pay.
Upon her back rested a solid black spear, unadorned, menacing in its simplicity. Its presence was a stark counterpoint to her carefully curated disguise, a silent testament to her martial prowess, a whisper of the power she attempted to conceal. That Sophia, the Night Mother, would trek these treacherous snows like a common traveler, relying on her own two feet and a slain beast’s hide for warmth, was proof enough of her unwavering determination. She would reclaim her glory. Absolute. Eternal. And to achieve that, she had to find it. The Astral Vein. Legends claimed it pulsed somewhere within these very mountains.
“It must be here,” she whispered softly into the frozen expanse before her. Her breath puffed into the frigid air, dissipating quickly in the face of a landscape that seemed to hold its breath, listening. The aurora above churned, a breathtaking vortex of sizzling jades and suffocating blacks, a mesmerizing nexus that resembled a spider's web spun across the night sky, waiting to ensnare its unwitting prey. Perhaps, she mused, the land itself sensed her intentions, understood that she came not simply to observe, but to reap. She was adept at deceiving mortal eyes, weaving illusions so intricate they became accepted reality. But the planet itself... it was a different matter. Against the ancient consciousness of the earth, her deceptions felt flimsy, transparent.
Her gaze, sharp and analytical despite the hazel façade, traced the sweeping panorama of snow and ice before ultimately settling upon a figure. A girl. Standing alone, silhouetted against the vibrant chaos of the aurora, she was an anomaly in this desolate landscape. Her skin, visible even from this distance, was a startling, impossible hue, pure as the finest obsidian, reflecting the aurora in a way that suggested absorption rather than mere mirroring. But it was her eyes that truly arrested Sophia’s attention. Even from afar they burned with an unnerving acuity, bright, bold, weary – ancient eyes in a young face.
And then… the scent. It was faint, almost imperceptible against the crisp mountain air, but it was there. Underlying the icy wind, the metallic tang of snow, was a scent Sophia recognized with a jolt that nearly brought bile to her throat. A scent she had buried deep within the recesses of her memory, a scent she had almost managed to forget. The cloying, musky, unsettling smell of the man-beast who had summoned her, ages ago, to this plane. Rudral.
But… this girl? Why did she smell of him? Impossible, she thought, yet her instincts, honed over millennia, screamed otherwise. What’s more, mingled with the residue of Rudral, was something else, something…strangely familiar, yet utterly alien. A deeper, earthier scent, something ancient, something… primal.
Drawn by a morbid fascination, a chilling question blooming in her mind, Sophia began to walk towards the girl. Every step crunched in the snow, the sound amplified in the tense silence. Gathering her carefully constructed composure around her like a shield, she stopped a few feet away from the girl. The obsidian skin was even more striking up close, flawless and luminous in the aurora's glow. The girl’s gaze, unwavering, fixed on Sophia, holding a depth that defied her apparent youth.
Sophia forced a softness into her voice, aiming for casual curiosity, though the turmoil within threatened to shatter the façade.
“Are you lost?” The words seeped from her mouth like a gentle spring, a deceptive offering in the frozen air. But beneath the carefully crafted tone, a tremor of something far more profound, far more dangerous, vibrated – a hunger born of both fear and an insatiable, ancient curiosity.
" I should really clean my closet, the skeletons are starting to clutter..."
-
Alice Akuma
- Novice
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Mon Mar 20, 2023 5:20 am
Re: Chapter One:It Calls
Her voice confirmed she was more than an illusion—an unsettling truth Alice had hoped wasn’t real. The sound slid down her spine like ice, triggering the same flight-or-fight reflex she felt when the blue-eyed predator first began stalking her.“Are you lost?” The words seeped from her mouth like a gentle spring, a deceptive offering in the frozen air. But beneath the carefully crafted tone, a tremor of something far more profound, far more dangerous, vibrated – a hunger born of both fear and an insatiable, ancient curiosity.
She might’ve mistaken the woman for the beast, if not for the eyes. They didn’t match. But the presence, the sheer terror—those were the same. Dressed in black, the stranger wore calamity like a crown, and Alice could feel it. Every crunch of snow beneath her boots rang like a countdown, each step closer a new alarm screaming in her chest.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Flickers of pink electricity danced at her legs, aching to strike, to escape. Her hairs bristled upright, willing her to run. But despite it all—despite every instinct—Alice couldn’t move.
*"...I can't move."*
The thought whispered through her panicked mind as paralysis claimed her, the weight of analysis and adrenaline flooding her veins like icewater. She was frozen, not by the cold—but by the presence of something far older... and far more dangerous.
The womans gentle words contrasted the sensation of listening to her speak, it was as if death itself was trying to play coy. Her stance tightened and she found the strength of Will to reply. "I don't want any trouble." She startled to say her mind now more embarrassed than afraid. She felt pitiful. Why was she even on the mountain if she was gonna be afraid of every beast on the mountain. However that thought was quickly tabled, when the roar of the predetor shed been avoided rang in her ears once more.
She turned her head, breath catching in her throat as the wind whispered a warning through the pines. There, silhouetted against the dying sun on the jagged cliff edge, stood a creature that seemed torn from a fever dream—elegant and terrifying in equal measure.
It was tall, impossibly lean, its lithe white body coiled with serpentine grace. The skin shimmered faintly, like polished porcelain or the soft glow of moonlight through mist. Long limbs bent at strange angles, clawed fingers twitching as though itching for motion. A thick, reptilian tail curled behind it, its surface marked with glowing blue rings that pulsed like living circuitry.
But it was the creature's head that seized her in its gaze. Crowned in a mane of deep indigo feathers that jutted like a shattered halo, its face was obscured—save for a single, unblinking eye embedded in its chest. That eye stared with unnatural clarity, piercing and eternal, like it could see through time, thought, and the fragile barrier of flesh.
Wings stretched from its back—no, not wings, but vast, butterfly-like plumes of living ink and starlight. Black streaks curled like burning paper around a searing field of electric blue, each wing tipped with jagged energy and bearing a massive, watchful eye-like marking. The wings moved as if underwater, elegant and slow, casting streaks of shadow and light that danced unnaturally across the cliff face.
It didn’t breathe. It didn’t move. And yet the air around it trembled as if the world was holding its breath.
She knew—without understanding how—that it wasn’t meant to exist in this world. Something about it was wrong, too refined, too ancient, too perfect. It was a secret never meant to be seen, standing there in silence, studying her as if weighing the weight of her soul.
Then, its mouth split open just slightly in a sharp, unnatural grin—not to smile, but to show it knew it was being watched.
And that it had already decided what came next.
-
Sophia Van Gongorei
- The Orphic
- Posts: 38
- Joined: Tue May 11, 2021 4:16 pm
Re: Chapter One:It Calls
Sophia's hazel eyes narrowed as she watched the girl navigate her presence. For her to be so affected by merely being next to her meant that she was undoubtedly sensitive to the ebbs wafting from Sophia's core. Such sensitivity betrayed the effectiveness of the Sophia guise... indeed, it was something remarkable. Curiosity, a sensation as rare and precious as a flawless ruby for someone of Sophia’s age, tugged at her. She began to move forward, a whisper of shadow lengthening from her form, intending to approach the girl to perhaps discern if this anomaly was connected to the Vein she sought.
But then the world held its breath.
A roar shook the very mountain they stood upon, causing cataphoric reverberation through the range. It was then that Sophia's gaze lingered to the origin of the bellow, and what she laid eyes upon was nothing short of...
"Beautiful..."
Even a being as old as Sophia felt it, a tremor in the very fabric of existence, a palpable sense of ancient power that dwarfed her own ancient blood. This was not merely a creature but an echo of something primordially vast, a whisper from the dawn of realms. Still, the Night Mother did not fold, nor did she tremble. She had faced down gods and wrestled with realities collapsing upon themselves. This… this was simply new.
"Oh my, what manner of creature are you?"
As if responding to her, the beast attacked. Its gorgeous wings expanded with impossible speed the moment it lept, pushing the air away in a silent explosion. Sophia reacted instantly. Her form ignited in a plume of ethereal shades, darkness swirling and coalescing around her, a living cloak spun from the absence of light. The Veil of the Ebon Matriarch, an arbitor, is passive to her as her clothes are nearly always active on her person. It manifests her Shadowy, smog-like essence around her like a dark veil that layers upon her garments. From it, a single tendril, black as pitch and swift as thought, delved into her shadow, rising from the girl’s shade. It snaked out, plucking the obsidian girl through the darkness like a fisherman reeling in a trout from a still pond.
With barely a heartbeat to spare, Sophia’s shadow tendril yanked the girl sideways, bringing her to Sophia's side, a blur of movement against the static backdrop of the mountains. The beast, a symphony of impossible grace and terrifying intent, crashed into the snowy mountain face where the girl had just stood, the impact echoing through the valley like the death knell of an age. Snow exploded outward, a white cloud momentarily obscuring the creature's magnificence, then settling to reveal its unblemished, seemingly unfazed form.
“This beast…” Sophia murmured, her voice, usually a silken caress of shadows, now edged with a rare note of… respect. She gripped her spear in a fluid motion; the movement was as natural as breathing—Piercer of Realms. The name itself vibrated with power. It was a spear she had fashioned from the fang and spine of a Silvermane - a swift bipedal feline creature said to be one of the Apexes of the Nether, realms beyond realms. Silvermanes wielded unprecedented naten control, the raw energy that pulsed through existence, and often used their spine to condense and regulate significant quantities of it. Their fangs were naturally infused, increasing their piercing power and sharpness, but Sophia had gone further. Using the fangs of Father Mane himself, the progenitor of the species, she faced and had the spine reinforced with a gorgeous silver alloy, not for its earthly value, but for its unique ability to smooth out naten currents, allowing for a cleaner, more focused flow of power through the weapon. She had fashioned a spear so sharp it was whispered to pierce through dimensions, to sever more than just flesh.
"Could it be a guardian of the vein?" she mused, her eye fixed on the creature, which now slowly extracted itself from the snowdrift, wings rustling like star-filled sails.
She glanced at the girl, who lay sprawled on the snow, wide-eyed and silent, her obsidian skin reflecting the turbulent sky. "Listen, girl. I suggest you shake whatever jitters you have. Lest you wind up a puddle of ichor beneath that thing’s feet." Her tone was harsh and pragmatic, but a thread of something akin to concern underpinned it. Survival, even for a being as ancient as Sophia, required allies or at least the absence of unnecessary burdens.
She leveled Piercer of Realms at the creature, its silver alloy catching the last rays of the sun and glinting like frozen moonlight. Usually, she would observe, study, and dissect her prey before engaging. But this was not normal. The raw power radiating from the creature was a palpable pressure, a suffocating weight. And beyond that, something else prickled at the edges of her awareness. Her powers, subtly, almost imperceptibly… diminished and tampered with. A thread of suspicion, sharp and cold, ran through her. Could this beast be responsible for this obstruction? No matter. She had to act. Now.
" Besides," she added, her voice hardening. The ethereal shades around her intensified, swirling like storm clouds.
Piercer of Realms began to glow, not with silver light, but with a deeper, more unsettling luminescence. Black and green naten, drawn from the very shadows and the verdant, corrupted energies of the Nether already present within the spear, surged up the shaft, pooling at the obsidian-sharp spearhead.
"There are worse fates than death."
With a guttural cry that echoed across the mountain peaks, Sophia released it: Full-throttle, a thrust of pure, unadulterated power. Piercer of Realms became a streak of dark fervor, emboldened by the raw naten, a blur aimed directly for the unblinking, all-seeing eye in the center of the monstrosity’s chest. The mountain held its breath once more; should it reach its target, the impact would create an eruption of vital energy aiming to consume the creature and whatever else it touched.
But then the world held its breath.
A roar shook the very mountain they stood upon, causing cataphoric reverberation through the range. It was then that Sophia's gaze lingered to the origin of the bellow, and what she laid eyes upon was nothing short of...
"Beautiful..."
Even a being as old as Sophia felt it, a tremor in the very fabric of existence, a palpable sense of ancient power that dwarfed her own ancient blood. This was not merely a creature but an echo of something primordially vast, a whisper from the dawn of realms. Still, the Night Mother did not fold, nor did she tremble. She had faced down gods and wrestled with realities collapsing upon themselves. This… this was simply new.
"Oh my, what manner of creature are you?"
As if responding to her, the beast attacked. Its gorgeous wings expanded with impossible speed the moment it lept, pushing the air away in a silent explosion. Sophia reacted instantly. Her form ignited in a plume of ethereal shades, darkness swirling and coalescing around her, a living cloak spun from the absence of light. The Veil of the Ebon Matriarch, an arbitor, is passive to her as her clothes are nearly always active on her person. It manifests her Shadowy, smog-like essence around her like a dark veil that layers upon her garments. From it, a single tendril, black as pitch and swift as thought, delved into her shadow, rising from the girl’s shade. It snaked out, plucking the obsidian girl through the darkness like a fisherman reeling in a trout from a still pond.
With barely a heartbeat to spare, Sophia’s shadow tendril yanked the girl sideways, bringing her to Sophia's side, a blur of movement against the static backdrop of the mountains. The beast, a symphony of impossible grace and terrifying intent, crashed into the snowy mountain face where the girl had just stood, the impact echoing through the valley like the death knell of an age. Snow exploded outward, a white cloud momentarily obscuring the creature's magnificence, then settling to reveal its unblemished, seemingly unfazed form.
“This beast…” Sophia murmured, her voice, usually a silken caress of shadows, now edged with a rare note of… respect. She gripped her spear in a fluid motion; the movement was as natural as breathing—Piercer of Realms. The name itself vibrated with power. It was a spear she had fashioned from the fang and spine of a Silvermane - a swift bipedal feline creature said to be one of the Apexes of the Nether, realms beyond realms. Silvermanes wielded unprecedented naten control, the raw energy that pulsed through existence, and often used their spine to condense and regulate significant quantities of it. Their fangs were naturally infused, increasing their piercing power and sharpness, but Sophia had gone further. Using the fangs of Father Mane himself, the progenitor of the species, she faced and had the spine reinforced with a gorgeous silver alloy, not for its earthly value, but for its unique ability to smooth out naten currents, allowing for a cleaner, more focused flow of power through the weapon. She had fashioned a spear so sharp it was whispered to pierce through dimensions, to sever more than just flesh.
"Could it be a guardian of the vein?" she mused, her eye fixed on the creature, which now slowly extracted itself from the snowdrift, wings rustling like star-filled sails.
She glanced at the girl, who lay sprawled on the snow, wide-eyed and silent, her obsidian skin reflecting the turbulent sky. "Listen, girl. I suggest you shake whatever jitters you have. Lest you wind up a puddle of ichor beneath that thing’s feet." Her tone was harsh and pragmatic, but a thread of something akin to concern underpinned it. Survival, even for a being as ancient as Sophia, required allies or at least the absence of unnecessary burdens.
She leveled Piercer of Realms at the creature, its silver alloy catching the last rays of the sun and glinting like frozen moonlight. Usually, she would observe, study, and dissect her prey before engaging. But this was not normal. The raw power radiating from the creature was a palpable pressure, a suffocating weight. And beyond that, something else prickled at the edges of her awareness. Her powers, subtly, almost imperceptibly… diminished and tampered with. A thread of suspicion, sharp and cold, ran through her. Could this beast be responsible for this obstruction? No matter. She had to act. Now.
" Besides," she added, her voice hardening. The ethereal shades around her intensified, swirling like storm clouds.
Piercer of Realms began to glow, not with silver light, but with a deeper, more unsettling luminescence. Black and green naten, drawn from the very shadows and the verdant, corrupted energies of the Nether already present within the spear, surged up the shaft, pooling at the obsidian-sharp spearhead.
"There are worse fates than death."
With a guttural cry that echoed across the mountain peaks, Sophia released it: Full-throttle, a thrust of pure, unadulterated power. Piercer of Realms became a streak of dark fervor, emboldened by the raw naten, a blur aimed directly for the unblinking, all-seeing eye in the center of the monstrosity’s chest. The mountain held its breath once more; should it reach its target, the impact would create an eruption of vital energy aiming to consume the creature and whatever else it touched.
" I should really clean my closet, the skeletons are starting to clutter..."
-
Ovan Hellgate
- Novice
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Sat Sep 17, 2022 1:21 pm
Re: Chapter One:It Calls
Ovan began his summit with a plan, prepared for the harsh climate of the Alps of Chaos as best as he could. The enchanted garb he received as a gift from Okoye kept him well guarded from the elements of the Azure Alps. Ovan's delve into the gates of Ashura gained a new friend in the warrior queen to be, with his particular acuity becoming her asset in exchange for a taste of her indomitable strength. They spent a short amount of time together, but the mark they left on one another would last through their lifetimes. Ovan, the scholar and self-proclaimed pacifist, learned the true value in crafting an indomitable spirit, one that he could call on to produce an untold strength he'd need to succeed Sorith and lead the tribe into the next age, one he could navigate with fortitude and foresight.
His target: a Leviathan Shard, a remnant of the creatures touched by the intoxicating nature of the Azure Flame.
Normally, these kinds of ventures he embarked on with individuals far more skilled than he in the martial disciplines. His skills wer far flung into the scholar's realm, leaning more on his knowledge and awareness to guide more ambitious teams to their treasured spoils of war. His journey into Ashura's pit mirrored his previous journeys, centuries of academic expeditions and most of them tracking demons turned out the same way. Fortunate for him and Okoye, their blend of skills landed her the demon of her desire and garnered him a much needed training regimen that drove compounded with the skills he built in his time training with Lana in Diamond Dust. Fate certainly shined on him, gifting him with the expertise of two badass women to take into his next journey, and he planned on treating them to a lavish feast at his succession to thank them even further.
But first, the beast needed felling.
He tracked the beast to auroral peak in the Azure Alps, carefully avoiding its predation for days up in the frozen spires near his homeland. The enchanted clothing provided a warmth unparalleled, the cold weather might as well have been a sunny day in spring as he tracked the Leviathan for a week from a safe distance. His gifted acuity, Fathom Sight, gave him visuals on the beast from so far away, he treated the excursion like a safari, studying the beast's habits and proclivities before he decided to begin his hunt himself. Though he had the skills now that he thought could down the creature, he understood himself far too well to dive headfirst into battle with a new kit and some grit, he and Okoye did survive their expedition, but many of the scholars he met in his time did not find themselves so fortunate and he'd need more time before he met them again. His duties as the Horus Crown required the same level head and tact that brought him to that threshold lest the arrogance of his tribe infect his nature. His benevolent nature even made short friends with some of the smaller creatures that lived high in the alps; night glider rodents and silver wing foxes often kept him company through the night and day, unwilling, but quiet audiences as he showed them the latest updates to the Uranometria he wrote while observing his prey. His provisions provided support for him well, the Diamond Dust team's Ars Culina and Bevera provided delicious, nutritious food and drink for at least a month in compact packaging, so he could take all the time he needed to study the creature and still share the wealth with his intermittent guests.
The Leviathan's life existed at the vertex of chaos and carnage, slaying beasts Ovan thought found just as formidable. It left behind frozen skeletons, fossilized monstrosities mangled beyond recognition, or at least they would be if the hiteout conditions and blizzard winds didn't freeze the entrails as quickly as the beasts fell themselves. The Leviathan left a trail of terrifying carnage Ovan had little trouble tracking by himself, following the sounds of battle and the eerie Aura his Fathom Sight could identify from even as far as the base of the mountains. He kept a safe distance very well, but as they reached the summit of this mountain, the creature's activity changed. Normally, it stalked its prey, chasing down a challenge in beasts close to its own size, but in the light of the aurora dancing above and between the jagged peaks of the Alps, it stopped to stare down at something, almost like it was confused. From his distance, Ovan only saw a silhouette near it and another more sparkly entity near one another as the Leviathan threw itself at the ground. This prey was far out of its normal size and range, but still the massive beast stopped to strike it.
"Are those... People?" Ovan asked himself, spurred on to investigate these new findings. He wanted to keep far enough away, his confidence filled, but did not overflow before throwing himself into battle with the beast. He trudged through the snow, picking up speed and securing his provisions deep within his cloak. He approached the beast from behind, but was unsure of what to make of the attack it began. Under the light of the aurora, stil clad in the snowy conditions, Ovan hoped the people that drew the Leviathan's attention had some sense about them to try to escape. But at this elevation, he couldn't even surmise what they could possibly be doing other than looking for trouble. His pledge to Diamond Dust called on him to help them if necessary, but his duty to his people required him to return to the Acrix alive and victorious.
His target: a Leviathan Shard, a remnant of the creatures touched by the intoxicating nature of the Azure Flame.
Normally, these kinds of ventures he embarked on with individuals far more skilled than he in the martial disciplines. His skills wer far flung into the scholar's realm, leaning more on his knowledge and awareness to guide more ambitious teams to their treasured spoils of war. His journey into Ashura's pit mirrored his previous journeys, centuries of academic expeditions and most of them tracking demons turned out the same way. Fortunate for him and Okoye, their blend of skills landed her the demon of her desire and garnered him a much needed training regimen that drove compounded with the skills he built in his time training with Lana in Diamond Dust. Fate certainly shined on him, gifting him with the expertise of two badass women to take into his next journey, and he planned on treating them to a lavish feast at his succession to thank them even further.
But first, the beast needed felling.
He tracked the beast to auroral peak in the Azure Alps, carefully avoiding its predation for days up in the frozen spires near his homeland. The enchanted clothing provided a warmth unparalleled, the cold weather might as well have been a sunny day in spring as he tracked the Leviathan for a week from a safe distance. His gifted acuity, Fathom Sight, gave him visuals on the beast from so far away, he treated the excursion like a safari, studying the beast's habits and proclivities before he decided to begin his hunt himself. Though he had the skills now that he thought could down the creature, he understood himself far too well to dive headfirst into battle with a new kit and some grit, he and Okoye did survive their expedition, but many of the scholars he met in his time did not find themselves so fortunate and he'd need more time before he met them again. His duties as the Horus Crown required the same level head and tact that brought him to that threshold lest the arrogance of his tribe infect his nature. His benevolent nature even made short friends with some of the smaller creatures that lived high in the alps; night glider rodents and silver wing foxes often kept him company through the night and day, unwilling, but quiet audiences as he showed them the latest updates to the Uranometria he wrote while observing his prey. His provisions provided support for him well, the Diamond Dust team's Ars Culina and Bevera provided delicious, nutritious food and drink for at least a month in compact packaging, so he could take all the time he needed to study the creature and still share the wealth with his intermittent guests.
The Leviathan's life existed at the vertex of chaos and carnage, slaying beasts Ovan thought found just as formidable. It left behind frozen skeletons, fossilized monstrosities mangled beyond recognition, or at least they would be if the hiteout conditions and blizzard winds didn't freeze the entrails as quickly as the beasts fell themselves. The Leviathan left a trail of terrifying carnage Ovan had little trouble tracking by himself, following the sounds of battle and the eerie Aura his Fathom Sight could identify from even as far as the base of the mountains. He kept a safe distance very well, but as they reached the summit of this mountain, the creature's activity changed. Normally, it stalked its prey, chasing down a challenge in beasts close to its own size, but in the light of the aurora dancing above and between the jagged peaks of the Alps, it stopped to stare down at something, almost like it was confused. From his distance, Ovan only saw a silhouette near it and another more sparkly entity near one another as the Leviathan threw itself at the ground. This prey was far out of its normal size and range, but still the massive beast stopped to strike it.
"Are those... People?" Ovan asked himself, spurred on to investigate these new findings. He wanted to keep far enough away, his confidence filled, but did not overflow before throwing himself into battle with the beast. He trudged through the snow, picking up speed and securing his provisions deep within his cloak. He approached the beast from behind, but was unsure of what to make of the attack it began. Under the light of the aurora, stil clad in the snowy conditions, Ovan hoped the people that drew the Leviathan's attention had some sense about them to try to escape. But at this elevation, he couldn't even surmise what they could possibly be doing other than looking for trouble. His pledge to Diamond Dust called on him to help them if necessary, but his duty to his people required him to return to the Acrix alive and victorious.
"You collapsed under the weight of idealism, nothing to be ashamed of. Happens to all of us, not just the best of us. " - Sorith, Horus Crown
Ovan's Attire
"Ovan's Theme"
Ovan's Attire
"Ovan's Theme"
-
Alice Akuma
- Novice
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Mon Mar 20, 2023 5:20 am
Re: Chapter One:It Calls
Her eyes locked onto the beast—but her legs betrayed her. Frozen. Half-submerged in snow. And then the beast leapt.
And yet, it didn’t.
It remained tethered to the cliffside, flickering—phasing—as if reality itself couldn't make up its mind. Like a mirage caught in a feedback loop. Like corrupted code shuddering in a dying simulation. The creature was wrong. Its howl didn’t echo. A sound that didn’t belong to anything living. But it wasn’t the sound that anchored her in terror.
It was the flicker.
That damned flicker.
Its body twisted in and out of existence, each frame splitting across different truths, different timelines. A living glitch. Terror in its purest form.
And somehow—she was still alive.
The thing that saved her was no less Intimidating. A figure clad in obsidian armor, a spear gripped tight, slick with frost and blood.
But Alice only knew how to run.
It was in her blood. Her family crest wasn’t honor—it was survival. Avoid. Abandon. Escape.
She loathed it.
But she'd never been taught anything else.
Until now.
Something stirred in her chest. Not panic. Not adrenaline. Something older. Something deeper. A pulse—no, a flare—ignited inside her ribs and spread like wildfire.
Recognition.
Not through memory. Through instinct.
Her hands stopped shaking. Her breath evened out. Her spine straightened.
And her eyes… turned crimson.
“This feels familiar,” she whispered, staring at her reflection in the gloss of her gloves. A stranger stared back—eyes burning with purpose, her body no longer a vessel for fear, but for vengeance.
“Let’s test its reflexes,” she said, voice now forged in steel. “Something’s off about the way it moves.”
She pointed to the snow.
Footprints—appearing and disappearing in the snow while the creature remained still,watching.
Impossibly placed. Echoes before the cause.
It had struck before. Crushed the stones she’d hidden behind. But left no trail. No presence. As if it had never stood in the world it destroyed.
The beast didn’t wait.
It convulsed—twitching, ravenous—and vanished.
Not leaping.
Not flying.
Just… gone.
Between one blink and the next. Between sound and silence. Between them.
One moment it was above them, watching.
The next—it was here between the two women.
Already in motion.
Two jagged arms spun forward—twisting like a spear, meant for Sophia, its aim cruel and final.
Another limb carved the air behind Alice, space itself shredding open to allow its strike—her body seconds away from being turned to ribbons.
They saw it.
Not in reaction, but in prophecy. Their deaths unfolding in their minds as if written long ago. They felt it. They could feel they were already struck, already bleeding, already buried. They felt it in their body, they could see it in their minds.
The beast didn’t follow the laws of this world.
It bent them.
It broke them.
It didn’t just defy physics.
It defied existence.
And yet, it didn’t.
It remained tethered to the cliffside, flickering—phasing—as if reality itself couldn't make up its mind. Like a mirage caught in a feedback loop. Like corrupted code shuddering in a dying simulation. The creature was wrong. Its howl didn’t echo. A sound that didn’t belong to anything living. But it wasn’t the sound that anchored her in terror.
It was the flicker.
That damned flicker.
Its body twisted in and out of existence, each frame splitting across different truths, different timelines. A living glitch. Terror in its purest form.
And somehow—she was still alive.
The thing that saved her was no less Intimidating. A figure clad in obsidian armor, a spear gripped tight, slick with frost and blood.
Her presence alone demanded obedience. Demanded fight.“Listen, girl. I suggest you shake whatever jitters you have. Lest you wind up a puddle of ichor beneath that thing’s feet."
The words hit like a slap—sharp, cold, surgical. The woman
But Alice only knew how to run.
It was in her blood. Her family crest wasn’t honor—it was survival. Avoid. Abandon. Escape.
She loathed it.
But she'd never been taught anything else.
Until now.
Something stirred in her chest. Not panic. Not adrenaline. Something older. Something deeper. A pulse—no, a flare—ignited inside her ribs and spread like wildfire.
Recognition.
Not through memory. Through instinct.
Her hands stopped shaking. Her breath evened out. Her spine straightened.
And her eyes… turned crimson.
“This feels familiar,” she whispered, staring at her reflection in the gloss of her gloves. A stranger stared back—eyes burning with purpose, her body no longer a vessel for fear, but for vengeance.
“Let’s test its reflexes,” she said, voice now forged in steel. “Something’s off about the way it moves.”
She pointed to the snow.
Footprints—appearing and disappearing in the snow while the creature remained still,watching.
Impossibly placed. Echoes before the cause.
It had struck before. Crushed the stones she’d hidden behind. But left no trail. No presence. As if it had never stood in the world it destroyed.
The beast didn’t wait.
It convulsed—twitching, ravenous—and vanished.
Not leaping.
Not flying.
Just… gone.
Between one blink and the next. Between sound and silence. Between them.
One moment it was above them, watching.
The next—it was here between the two women.
Already in motion.
Two jagged arms spun forward—twisting like a spear, meant for Sophia, its aim cruel and final.
Another limb carved the air behind Alice, space itself shredding open to allow its strike—her body seconds away from being turned to ribbons.
They saw it.
Not in reaction, but in prophecy. Their deaths unfolding in their minds as if written long ago. They felt it. They could feel they were already struck, already bleeding, already buried. They felt it in their body, they could see it in their minds.
The beast didn’t follow the laws of this world.
It bent them.
It broke them.
It didn’t just defy physics.
It defied existence.
Re: Chapter One:It Calls
The creature’s strike was lethally efficient—sharp as instinct and crueler than reason. It moved like a thought unbidden, wrong and inevitable. To behold it was to feel something ancient stir, a primal realization that this thing did not belong here, or perhaps, that it did—and the rest of the world did not.
Its limbs jerked and flowed in a rhythm that defied natural form, like it had studied human motion from behind a veil, only to distort it into something vile and alien. It flickered through space, its edges blurred and rewound, each footfall arriving a second too soon or a moment too late. Its movements seemed to disagree with time, dancing not to the tempo of this world but to some eldritch cadence beyond mortal comprehension. Veterans of war would feel their stomachs knot and hearts skip—a quiet voice whispering Fall., you are not real enough, Alone.
And yet.
Despite the danger. Despite the dread that curled around them like smoke. Three figures leapt over Ovan’s head, feathers catching the moonlight like blades of emerald fire.
They were Aurorai.
Their bodies were draped in green plumage, the tips of each feather adorned with swirling sigils, golden rings, and gems that hummed with inner light. They landed in the snow, yet disturbed not even a whisper of it—their feet hovered on plumes of coiled wind, soft and firm as breath.
Then they began to dance.
Their bodies moved with impossible grace, coiling the wind into spiraling shields that enveloped Sophia and Alice. The creature’s strike shattered harmlessly against these gusts, its blow diffused by unseen currents.
To Sophia, this beast was a stranger. To the Aurorai—it was a rival. An old one.
They moved with lethal familiarity, pirouetting around the Maelvorr with fearless intent. Their limbs sliced air and conjured light, each motion not just combat, but language—a communion of will. Their dance did not ask the wind to obey. It commanded.
“Leave the Aevorran to us.”
The voice did not come from a mouth, but bloomed in the hearts of Sophia and Alice. A telepathic echo, clear and warm like a memory of safety. It was less a statement and more a certainty. A pulse of meaning delivered through motion—the spiraling arms, the sharp turn of a heel, the way the feathers swept like paintbrushes across the air.
It was how the Aurorai fought.
And it was how they overwhelmed the Maelvorr.
Winds hardened into blades and shields. Arcs of light lanced from the spiral of their feathers, piercing the creature’s shifting form. They struck in tandem, a triad of fury and elegance, so perfectly coordinated that each step predicted the next, each attack spiraled into another. Their rhythm was war-song and wardance. It was Zetsuei.
Then, at once—they stopped.
Surrounding the Maelvorr in a triangle, they fanned open their radiant plumes. The sigils glowed.
Eyes opened.
A second sun was born from their feathers
Morning Star. The Aurorai Anthem
From each unfurled feather burst waves of shifting color—aurora-born, hypnotic, divine. Patterns danced in the air like living constellations, eyes upon eyes, all-seeing and terrible. The light pulsed, entrancing, magnificent, and inescapable. To look upon it was to surrender. To resist was to forget who you were.
The Maelvorr froze mid-lunge, its limbs trembling. Caught. Caged. Reduced to a shivering silhouette.
Sophia gasped. The warmth of the light poured over her like water through ice—paralyzing and beautiful. Her body was safe behind the Aurorai, but her mind brushed the Anthem’s edge. A thousand thoughts rushed her—memories that were not hers, feelings from another world. It felt like falling into the heartbeat of a god.
Behind the light, one of the Aurorai turned her head, her voice now clear in their thoughts.
“We are the Aurorai—guardians of the Borealis Peak. For generations we have fought these horrors. The Aevorran. This one is a Maelvorr—tactical wretches. They command the lesser Vexlings, bend the Shard-mutations in their bodies like blades. But this?” Her voice trembled. “This was only meant to be a Maelvorr…”
The Maelvorr jerked violently, trying to flee, but the cone of Morning Star cast too wide a net. The Aurorai adjusted in perfect harmony, reforming the shape of the light, tightening the prison with each new step. There was no escape.
Until—
—reality broke.
It was not a noise, nor a flash. It was wrongness. The snow stood still. The air froze mid-current. The world paused, like a puppet show caught between strings.
Alice fell to her knees, bile rising. She clutched her head, eyes wide with terror.
'Something moved in that stillness.' She cried
And in one breathless second, an Aurorai was gone. A smear of green and red across the snow.
The Maelvorr fled, gasping for movement, and was gone.
In its place stood the true horror.
A Leviathan.
Reality shuddered in its presence. Space itself bent like glass underwater. Trees bowed. Sound died. It walked as if the world must make room for its step.
The two remaining Aurorai screamed—a sound not heard by ears but felt in the teeth and bones of all nearby. One swept up their fallen comrade, whose wounds shimmered with light and bled colors not found in nature.
The other opened a tunnel in the snow. A spiral of silver wind and stardust, cut directly into the fabric of the world.
“Go! To the Borealis Peak.!”
The voice was sharp now. Urgent.
She thrust the wounded Aurorai into Alice’s arms, the body impossibly light yet impossibly cold. The wounds shimmered, yet would not close. The Aurorai’s eyes remained open, still glowing faintly with the Anthem.
“Tell them to send The Veil. Leviathan dont protect Maelvorr or vexlings. This is something new. "
Her wordsechoed in the air with weight.
Before Alice could ask anything more, the tunnel yawned wide.
The last two Aurorai turned in perfect unison, dancing once more. This time toward death. The portal couldnt be forced closed and led to their homes, something had to ensure neither creature could reach the Borealis Peaks.
One against the Anomaly.
One against the Leviathan.
And behind them, the portal slowly died. Leaving them to an unsettling future.
Its limbs jerked and flowed in a rhythm that defied natural form, like it had studied human motion from behind a veil, only to distort it into something vile and alien. It flickered through space, its edges blurred and rewound, each footfall arriving a second too soon or a moment too late. Its movements seemed to disagree with time, dancing not to the tempo of this world but to some eldritch cadence beyond mortal comprehension. Veterans of war would feel their stomachs knot and hearts skip—a quiet voice whispering Fall., you are not real enough, Alone.
And yet.
Despite the danger. Despite the dread that curled around them like smoke. Three figures leapt over Ovan’s head, feathers catching the moonlight like blades of emerald fire.
They were Aurorai.
Their bodies were draped in green plumage, the tips of each feather adorned with swirling sigils, golden rings, and gems that hummed with inner light. They landed in the snow, yet disturbed not even a whisper of it—their feet hovered on plumes of coiled wind, soft and firm as breath.
Then they began to dance.
Their bodies moved with impossible grace, coiling the wind into spiraling shields that enveloped Sophia and Alice. The creature’s strike shattered harmlessly against these gusts, its blow diffused by unseen currents.
To Sophia, this beast was a stranger. To the Aurorai—it was a rival. An old one.
They moved with lethal familiarity, pirouetting around the Maelvorr with fearless intent. Their limbs sliced air and conjured light, each motion not just combat, but language—a communion of will. Their dance did not ask the wind to obey. It commanded.
“Leave the Aevorran to us.”
The voice did not come from a mouth, but bloomed in the hearts of Sophia and Alice. A telepathic echo, clear and warm like a memory of safety. It was less a statement and more a certainty. A pulse of meaning delivered through motion—the spiraling arms, the sharp turn of a heel, the way the feathers swept like paintbrushes across the air.
It was how the Aurorai fought.
And it was how they overwhelmed the Maelvorr.
Winds hardened into blades and shields. Arcs of light lanced from the spiral of their feathers, piercing the creature’s shifting form. They struck in tandem, a triad of fury and elegance, so perfectly coordinated that each step predicted the next, each attack spiraled into another. Their rhythm was war-song and wardance. It was Zetsuei.
Then, at once—they stopped.
Surrounding the Maelvorr in a triangle, they fanned open their radiant plumes. The sigils glowed.
Eyes opened.
A second sun was born from their feathers
Morning Star. The Aurorai Anthem
From each unfurled feather burst waves of shifting color—aurora-born, hypnotic, divine. Patterns danced in the air like living constellations, eyes upon eyes, all-seeing and terrible. The light pulsed, entrancing, magnificent, and inescapable. To look upon it was to surrender. To resist was to forget who you were.
The Maelvorr froze mid-lunge, its limbs trembling. Caught. Caged. Reduced to a shivering silhouette.
Sophia gasped. The warmth of the light poured over her like water through ice—paralyzing and beautiful. Her body was safe behind the Aurorai, but her mind brushed the Anthem’s edge. A thousand thoughts rushed her—memories that were not hers, feelings from another world. It felt like falling into the heartbeat of a god.
Behind the light, one of the Aurorai turned her head, her voice now clear in their thoughts.
“We are the Aurorai—guardians of the Borealis Peak. For generations we have fought these horrors. The Aevorran. This one is a Maelvorr—tactical wretches. They command the lesser Vexlings, bend the Shard-mutations in their bodies like blades. But this?” Her voice trembled. “This was only meant to be a Maelvorr…”
The Maelvorr jerked violently, trying to flee, but the cone of Morning Star cast too wide a net. The Aurorai adjusted in perfect harmony, reforming the shape of the light, tightening the prison with each new step. There was no escape.
Until—
—reality broke.
It was not a noise, nor a flash. It was wrongness. The snow stood still. The air froze mid-current. The world paused, like a puppet show caught between strings.
Alice fell to her knees, bile rising. She clutched her head, eyes wide with terror.
'Something moved in that stillness.' She cried
And in one breathless second, an Aurorai was gone. A smear of green and red across the snow.
The Maelvorr fled, gasping for movement, and was gone.
In its place stood the true horror.
A Leviathan.
Reality shuddered in its presence. Space itself bent like glass underwater. Trees bowed. Sound died. It walked as if the world must make room for its step.
The two remaining Aurorai screamed—a sound not heard by ears but felt in the teeth and bones of all nearby. One swept up their fallen comrade, whose wounds shimmered with light and bled colors not found in nature.
The other opened a tunnel in the snow. A spiral of silver wind and stardust, cut directly into the fabric of the world.
“Go! To the Borealis Peak.!”
The voice was sharp now. Urgent.
She thrust the wounded Aurorai into Alice’s arms, the body impossibly light yet impossibly cold. The wounds shimmered, yet would not close. The Aurorai’s eyes remained open, still glowing faintly with the Anthem.
“Tell them to send The Veil. Leviathan dont protect Maelvorr or vexlings. This is something new. "
Her wordsechoed in the air with weight.
Before Alice could ask anything more, the tunnel yawned wide.
The last two Aurorai turned in perfect unison, dancing once more. This time toward death. The portal couldnt be forced closed and led to their homes, something had to ensure neither creature could reach the Borealis Peaks.
One against the Anomaly.
One against the Leviathan.
And behind them, the portal slowly died. Leaving them to an unsettling future.
-
Sophia Van Gongorei
- The Orphic
- Posts: 38
- Joined: Tue May 11, 2021 4:16 pm
Re: Chapter One:It Calls
As the piercer of realm roared through the skies, a sound like grinding glaciers and tearing silk, it descended like a beacon of focused, impossible destruction. Sophia’s mouth slid into a confident smirk. Centuries of honing her craft had instilled a surety in her, a cold certainty that bordered on arrogance. She was sure she aimed perfectly for the constantly seemingly immutable place on the creature's body, the nexus of its unnatural movements she'd observed. Yet, her spear, hurled with shadow-infused might, did not hit it.
But it must have, a flicker of doubt pierced her confidence as she recalled her weapon. How else would the blood-stained frost have stained her spear? A viscous, ethereal substance clung to the dark metal, whispering tales of the Maelvorr’s essence. Baffled, the Night Mother recalled her spear. It vanished in a poof of shadows, dissipating like smoke in the frigid air, before reappearing, humming with dark energy, in her hand.
Alice’s words, the hesitant warning about unseen dangers, did not fall on deaf ears. Sophia's gaze snapped to the area she could've sworn the beast had leapt to, where her instincts screamed a crater should have been carved into the snow. And yet, barely footsteps of the creature remained; it seemed the snows themselves were completely unperturbed, then impressed by its weight once more, as if the very ground adjusted its memory of the event. She knew, with a chilling certainty, that the Maelvorr's swift, near-fatal assault on the girl was the reason her shadows had snatched Alice to her side, a reflex honed over eons of survival. Why else would she bother saving anyone if their life was not in mortal danger, if not for the subtle calculations of future advantage?
Before she could fully wrap her head around that isolated incident of… altruism? …the creature began to flicker, seemingly. One moment solid form, the next a wavering outline against the stark white landscape. What this thing was, defied more than simple logic; it was as if it existed beyond the constraints of conceptual laws, a tear in the fabric of reality made flesh. It was before them one moment, above them the next, and then…between them. A disorienting shift that made the seams of her perception unravel, her mind struggling to perceive the virtually imperceptible.
Before she truly registered the shift, searing pain erupted in her gut. She glanced down, finding herself impaled. The creature’s jagged limb, unnervingly mirroring her own spear in form and lethal intent, had torn through her, striking with ordained truth, as if it had been assured of its target, its victory. Yet Sophia herself barely winced. Pain was a constant companion, a familiar language. She was observing, speculating. The wound was already healing; murky naten sowe shut open sinew where viscera should be, knitting flesh back together before the panic of injury could truly take hold.
“Is it…traversing the unseen?” The words were a speculation, a shot in the dark, trying to comprehend something that seemed to be truly beyond comprehension. Before she could even analyze her question, the creature had already vanished. And with its departure came the arrival of a trio of figures the likes of which she had never laid eyes on before.
They were lithe forms, covered in green, light bouncing between them, arcing and oscillating, forming blades of pure luminescence and structures that actually… impacted the beast. They moved with a fluid grace, throwing themselves before her, intercepting where the Maelvorr was now flickering back into existence. They were not only fending off the beast, but…protecting her? It was so foreign and utterly illogical that it momentarily disoriented her more than the impalement.
Before she could process this bizarre development, her mind was beset by a bloom of information, words that did not belong to her spoken from a face foreign and obscured by swirling light. She barely could comprehend the deluge, a torrent of feelings and emotions – unity, compassion – concepts relegated to dusty tomes and dismissed as weaknesses. The sheer feel of this…divinity…left her queasy, a saccharine sweetness that felt sickeningly…campy. Girl Scouts? Her cynical mind supplied unbidden. Yet, the way they moved, the flutiness of pure naten coursing through and around them, the light bending around them like the very Aurora Borealis they seemed to embody… There was an undeniable power there.
A leviathan.
Now, this creature she knew of. Titans that roamed the planet, remnants of an ancient world, whose shadows created the guise of dusk in their wake. Predators of nothing, save perhaps time itself. She'd seen one on Rudral, something that seemed like a lifetime, an eternity, ago. But for one to appear now, here, amidst this already chaotic battle… she was beginning to think that somehow this was her fault. Perhaps she had incurred some cosmic debt, some everlasting run of lousy luck, and it permeated the world around her. She couldn't help but chuckle, a dry, humorless sound.
“How exhilarating…”
How long had it been since her life was genuinely in danger? Centuries, at least, spent carving her name into the annals of power. The adrenaline was like a forgotten drug, and the high prompted her to action where the rest, mortals and Aurorai alike, would surely panic. She thought, as her anthem began to bloom from her, shadows grafted onto her, swirling around her like loyal hounds. From them, an armor formed, coalescing with impossible speed and deadly grace.
Ar’Ratheus: Named after the Black Hydra she’d beaten in the Nether Arena. Its carcass was her hard-won reward. What was exceptional about this kill was not just the diamond-like durability of its scales; it was their uncanny glare. The interwoven black, violet, and fuchsia patterns created a subtly hypnotic effect, a disorientation that weakened those with less resolute minds. A byproduct, really. The true terror lay within. Those patterns carried a potent neurotoxin, disrupting neural pathways, inducing lethargy and sluggishness. Having had these scales fashioned into an armor-like garment set by the finest shadow-smiths, tiny sharp barbs now lined the outside, a nasty surprise for anyone foolish enough to physically touch her.
“That I can kill…” She said, her voice a low growl, turning to face the leviathan, its immense form blotting out a significant portion of the sky.
“You two, focus on that… thing over there.” She barked at the Aurorai, gesturing dismissively towards the still-flickering Maelvorr. Whether they listened or not didn't concern her; she decided she wouldn't waste time or effort striking blindly at what she could not fathom. Her palm was infused with dark naten, which bloomed massive, a swirling dark vortex in her hand, before condensing to the size of a marble, crackling with contained power. Swiftly, she encountered an acrid delight on her spear, the dark energy infusing the metal, forcing it to ignite with a horrendous dark force, an abyssal fire that licked at the air around it.
“Wave Of Onyx!”
She jumped back, gaining distance from the behemoth, and unleashed a raging slice of concentrated shadow energy with a mighty upheaval of her spear. Obsidian black like the stone, crackling with dark magic, tore through the air towards the leviathan, a promise of oblivion given form. The battle for this snow-swept domain, perhaps more than just this domain, had truly begun.
But it must have, a flicker of doubt pierced her confidence as she recalled her weapon. How else would the blood-stained frost have stained her spear? A viscous, ethereal substance clung to the dark metal, whispering tales of the Maelvorr’s essence. Baffled, the Night Mother recalled her spear. It vanished in a poof of shadows, dissipating like smoke in the frigid air, before reappearing, humming with dark energy, in her hand.
Alice’s words, the hesitant warning about unseen dangers, did not fall on deaf ears. Sophia's gaze snapped to the area she could've sworn the beast had leapt to, where her instincts screamed a crater should have been carved into the snow. And yet, barely footsteps of the creature remained; it seemed the snows themselves were completely unperturbed, then impressed by its weight once more, as if the very ground adjusted its memory of the event. She knew, with a chilling certainty, that the Maelvorr's swift, near-fatal assault on the girl was the reason her shadows had snatched Alice to her side, a reflex honed over eons of survival. Why else would she bother saving anyone if their life was not in mortal danger, if not for the subtle calculations of future advantage?
Before she could fully wrap her head around that isolated incident of… altruism? …the creature began to flicker, seemingly. One moment solid form, the next a wavering outline against the stark white landscape. What this thing was, defied more than simple logic; it was as if it existed beyond the constraints of conceptual laws, a tear in the fabric of reality made flesh. It was before them one moment, above them the next, and then…between them. A disorienting shift that made the seams of her perception unravel, her mind struggling to perceive the virtually imperceptible.
Before she truly registered the shift, searing pain erupted in her gut. She glanced down, finding herself impaled. The creature’s jagged limb, unnervingly mirroring her own spear in form and lethal intent, had torn through her, striking with ordained truth, as if it had been assured of its target, its victory. Yet Sophia herself barely winced. Pain was a constant companion, a familiar language. She was observing, speculating. The wound was already healing; murky naten sowe shut open sinew where viscera should be, knitting flesh back together before the panic of injury could truly take hold.
“Is it…traversing the unseen?” The words were a speculation, a shot in the dark, trying to comprehend something that seemed to be truly beyond comprehension. Before she could even analyze her question, the creature had already vanished. And with its departure came the arrival of a trio of figures the likes of which she had never laid eyes on before.
They were lithe forms, covered in green, light bouncing between them, arcing and oscillating, forming blades of pure luminescence and structures that actually… impacted the beast. They moved with a fluid grace, throwing themselves before her, intercepting where the Maelvorr was now flickering back into existence. They were not only fending off the beast, but…protecting her? It was so foreign and utterly illogical that it momentarily disoriented her more than the impalement.
Before she could process this bizarre development, her mind was beset by a bloom of information, words that did not belong to her spoken from a face foreign and obscured by swirling light. She barely could comprehend the deluge, a torrent of feelings and emotions – unity, compassion – concepts relegated to dusty tomes and dismissed as weaknesses. The sheer feel of this…divinity…left her queasy, a saccharine sweetness that felt sickeningly…campy. Girl Scouts? Her cynical mind supplied unbidden. Yet, the way they moved, the flutiness of pure naten coursing through and around them, the light bending around them like the very Aurora Borealis they seemed to embody… There was an undeniable power there.
“The Aurorai?” The word seeped from her tongue like a forgotten wine, a lingering taste but whose vintage remained elusive. They held… history with this Aevorran. They could even… cause it to flee? Just as she began to grasp a semblance of understanding, the Maelvorr, the Aevorran’s reality seemed to shatter, distorting into something even more terrifying. With its shattered form came an equally fearsome foe."We are the Aurorai—guardians of the Borealis Peak. For generations, we have fought these horrors. The Aevorran. This one is a Maelvorr—tactical wretches. They command the lesser Vexlings, bend the Shard-mutations in their bodies like blades. But this?” Her voice trembled, laced with a fear Sophia rarely encountered, even in herself. “This was only meant to be a Maelvorr…”
A leviathan.
Now, this creature she knew of. Titans that roamed the planet, remnants of an ancient world, whose shadows created the guise of dusk in their wake. Predators of nothing, save perhaps time itself. She'd seen one on Rudral, something that seemed like a lifetime, an eternity, ago. But for one to appear now, here, amidst this already chaotic battle… she was beginning to think that somehow this was her fault. Perhaps she had incurred some cosmic debt, some everlasting run of lousy luck, and it permeated the world around her. She couldn't help but chuckle, a dry, humorless sound.
“How exhilarating…”
How long had it been since her life was genuinely in danger? Centuries, at least, spent carving her name into the annals of power. The adrenaline was like a forgotten drug, and the high prompted her to action where the rest, mortals and Aurorai alike, would surely panic. She thought, as her anthem began to bloom from her, shadows grafted onto her, swirling around her like loyal hounds. From them, an armor formed, coalescing with impossible speed and deadly grace.
Ar’Ratheus: Named after the Black Hydra she’d beaten in the Nether Arena. Its carcass was her hard-won reward. What was exceptional about this kill was not just the diamond-like durability of its scales; it was their uncanny glare. The interwoven black, violet, and fuchsia patterns created a subtly hypnotic effect, a disorientation that weakened those with less resolute minds. A byproduct, really. The true terror lay within. Those patterns carried a potent neurotoxin, disrupting neural pathways, inducing lethargy and sluggishness. Having had these scales fashioned into an armor-like garment set by the finest shadow-smiths, tiny sharp barbs now lined the outside, a nasty surprise for anyone foolish enough to physically touch her.
“That I can kill…” She said, her voice a low growl, turning to face the leviathan, its immense form blotting out a significant portion of the sky.
“You two, focus on that… thing over there.” She barked at the Aurorai, gesturing dismissively towards the still-flickering Maelvorr. Whether they listened or not didn't concern her; she decided she wouldn't waste time or effort striking blindly at what she could not fathom. Her palm was infused with dark naten, which bloomed massive, a swirling dark vortex in her hand, before condensing to the size of a marble, crackling with contained power. Swiftly, she encountered an acrid delight on her spear, the dark energy infusing the metal, forcing it to ignite with a horrendous dark force, an abyssal fire that licked at the air around it.
“Wave Of Onyx!”
She jumped back, gaining distance from the behemoth, and unleashed a raging slice of concentrated shadow energy with a mighty upheaval of her spear. Obsidian black like the stone, crackling with dark magic, tore through the air towards the leviathan, a promise of oblivion given form. The battle for this snow-swept domain, perhaps more than just this domain, had truly begun.
" I should really clean my closet, the skeletons are starting to clutter..."
-
Ovan Hellgate
- Novice
- Posts: 47
- Joined: Sat Sep 17, 2022 1:21 pm
Re: Chapter One:It Calls
Aeon’s field of vision erupted with waves of clashing energy signatures coming across his Fathom Sight. Two figures leaped over his head and entered the fray just after one of the girls was attacked in a reality bending strike he barely almost missed with his full attention. If it wasn’t for the energy seething from the creature, he could have been thrashed before he even realized the claw was through him if he were caught in its warpath. The Aurorai introduced themselves and immediately tried to take control of the situation, one where upon further inspection, it revealed to Ovan how far he still had to go to acquire one of the creature’s shards. Even with their immaculate choreography and immense, aurora-like energies blasting the accursed creature, feathers slashing and dashing through the beast, but seemingly to no avail. The beast flickered across the canvas of reailty so severely, it didn’t seem to exist enough on the Seen to be hurt, but its form visible on the Unseen bore an unkowable discomfort in the scholar. Never in all his years had he bore witness to such a disturbing creature, not even considering the magnitude of demon he faced in Ashura with Okoye.
The Aurorai clearly had the best idea for him, landing suspiciously close to his cloaked body in the white peak powder. “Borealis Peak?” He asked himself and the Aurorai, unsure if he should listen to them or just make it down the mountain himself. He wanted to believe he could jut slink away and return to Aeon to regroup, but with speed at which it mauled one of the women who beat him here, but common sense prevailed. “It’s better than staying here!” He screamed as he exploded from his hiding space and dashed over to Alice’s side just as a new terror came into view.
A new beast drenched in terror, scratching against the already strained walls of reality before them. He remembered a version of him that would have already been slain here, but the call of duty before him smothered any feelings of inadequacy he might have harbored after returning with homework from the Crown Jewel Ceremony. This kind of trail is one that a scholar wouldn’t be able to offer a solution for his people. These beasts defied logic, but he’d need to survive to become the kind of crown who could.
Still kneeling at Alice’s side, preparing a field dressing from his pack to address some of her wounds before dragging her through the slowly closing portals. One Aurorai already fell to pieces, he felt like he already lost a comrade since they appeared with nothing but assistance. Whatever he could do to make sure they all make it through the portal to Borealis Peak, he would.
“Come on, miss. We can all make it out of here, I just hope you have an appetite.”
While ripping through dressing as fast as he could, wrapping and patching the glitched damage across her, Ovan took one of the emergency pods from his pocket, slipping it into her mouth and covering it with his hand, hoping she’s swallow it instinctually. If she did, the special blend of distilled herbal essence is said to energize the living and recharge the dying, bringing them back from the brink with a blend that jump starts their body with a burst of energy.
The shadowy figure stepped into the fray with a measured grace that exuded confidence, possibly spurred on by the Aurorai’s determination herself, they appeared from nowhere and laid their lives on the line in the face of two unbelievable abominations to appear simultaneously. She’d definitely give them enough time to make it through this portal, they had to work in concert.
The Aurorai clearly had the best idea for him, landing suspiciously close to his cloaked body in the white peak powder. “Borealis Peak?” He asked himself and the Aurorai, unsure if he should listen to them or just make it down the mountain himself. He wanted to believe he could jut slink away and return to Aeon to regroup, but with speed at which it mauled one of the women who beat him here, but common sense prevailed. “It’s better than staying here!” He screamed as he exploded from his hiding space and dashed over to Alice’s side just as a new terror came into view.
A new beast drenched in terror, scratching against the already strained walls of reality before them. He remembered a version of him that would have already been slain here, but the call of duty before him smothered any feelings of inadequacy he might have harbored after returning with homework from the Crown Jewel Ceremony. This kind of trail is one that a scholar wouldn’t be able to offer a solution for his people. These beasts defied logic, but he’d need to survive to become the kind of crown who could.
Still kneeling at Alice’s side, preparing a field dressing from his pack to address some of her wounds before dragging her through the slowly closing portals. One Aurorai already fell to pieces, he felt like he already lost a comrade since they appeared with nothing but assistance. Whatever he could do to make sure they all make it through the portal to Borealis Peak, he would.
“Come on, miss. We can all make it out of here, I just hope you have an appetite.”
While ripping through dressing as fast as he could, wrapping and patching the glitched damage across her, Ovan took one of the emergency pods from his pocket, slipping it into her mouth and covering it with his hand, hoping she’s swallow it instinctually. If she did, the special blend of distilled herbal essence is said to energize the living and recharge the dying, bringing them back from the brink with a blend that jump starts their body with a burst of energy.
The shadowy figure stepped into the fray with a measured grace that exuded confidence, possibly spurred on by the Aurorai’s determination herself, they appeared from nowhere and laid their lives on the line in the face of two unbelievable abominations to appear simultaneously. She’d definitely give them enough time to make it through this portal, they had to work in concert.
"You collapsed under the weight of idealism, nothing to be ashamed of. Happens to all of us, not just the best of us. " - Sorith, Horus Crown
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