Sword of the Godslayer

Shackled

Minos had imagined his death a dozen times. Once, during the Siege of Zephyrus, riding on the back of his palfrey, donned in chain mail, spear on hand. He imagined himself giving his life for the city he grew up in, for the people he loved and the kingdom he fought for. It was a glorious death, and his name would forever live in the annals of history.

And then there was the day he met Cassana, when he was about to plummet from the roof of a manor, the jaws of a feral werewolf bearing down on his neck. It wasn't as glorious as dying in warfare, but at least he was still fighting. Certainly not for the people he loved, nor for the city he called home, but it was still for something: in the name of his greatest dream, to find the Sword of the Godslayer.

And now, Minos saw himself dying again. He looked at Cassana and then to where she was looking. It was the thing that attacked them earlier, back for another round, totally disregarding the half-a-dozen guards trying to arrest them. It formed again under Robb's feet until it grew and stretched and suddenly, he found himself jumping to try and push the boy away.

There was no thought. It wasn't calculated. It was pure impulse, setting aside his own safety, risking his own life, for a boy he met a week ago. Just as soon as he touched him, his vision went dark. This is it, he told himself. He then wondered whether the gods would welcome him across the beyond.

And then he opened his eyes to reality.

He looked around to find walls spinning around him. His vision was blurry, and his stomach felt upset, like he just swallowed a glass full of nails. He recognized this sensation from before. He had undergone this only once in his life, and finding how awful it made his body feel, he swore he would never do it again. It was teleportation magic.

Finally, his vision cleared, and he looked to his side to find Robb. The poor boy had been retching on the floor, his whole body shaking. He tried to grab and soothe him but found that his arms were still bound to his back.

"Where are we?" he groaned.

He looked up and saw a man sitting on a throne. Standing beside him were two children, a girl and a boy, while behind was a woman. They were dressed in affluent clothes, all bearing a blank expression on their faces. He took a step back and realized it was merely a large family portrait hanging on a wall.

"Behind you," he heard a voice.

He turned around expecting the same person from the portrait, but it wasn't. It was a different person. A way too different person.

The fey-folk had a word: fravashi. It referred to beings from another realm, terrifying entities with large horns and skin covered in ember. It is said that they haunt people in their sleep, hounding their dreams, rendering them unable to wake up. In Common tongue, the term roughly translates to devil or demon.

What stood waiting for him was exactly that.

"Don't be scared," the person uttered. His voice had a slightly higher pitch than a man's voice, but it reverberated across the room like a hammer ringing on an anvil.

As soon as he regained his balance, Minos stood up and faced the man. Demons do not wander the earth in flesh. This man might have horns like the fravashis of legends, but his skin wasn't covered in embers. It had a light, purplish hue, closer to a drow skin; and his eyes were piercing red, like a viper staring straight at you. But Minos was certain that this person talking to him was nothing more than a mere mortal.

"What is this place?" Minos asked again. He looked around him and he appeared to be in some kind of foyer. Aside from the family portrait, a dozen more paintings adorned the laminated walls. Iron sconces provided light across the spacious room and potted plants decorated its corners in symmetrical fashion.