Pre-Canon Adventures Collection

When Lightning Strikes

When their camp is raided, Master Dominus Voltaris must comfort his son as they try to find a safer place, but Ingressus has questions

Author's note: the actual idea for this fic belongs to Cloudless_Sky (aka ArtimisWarrior) - thank you for letting me write it!

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The sound of thunder surrounded the camp, the storm growing stronger with every passing second, lightning pounding the ground and blinding everyone against the blizzard. But the storm above the mountains of Northwind was not the only storm brewing.

With the thundering sounds of Songs firing every which way, the snow had lit up in the colours of cursed powers, used only with malicious intent – to destroy.

This was nothing out of the ordinary for the Voltaris. It had gone on for generations – the coming and going of Ardoni warriors and champions from other clans, bombarding what little the Voltaris had to their name simply to eliminate them from existence.

But why?

It had gone on for so long that many of them questioned why they were treated so poorly – why the reception from those clad in the other colours was colder than the ice that they were forced to live in. They questioned why they insisted on hunting them, why they weren't allowed to just live. Survival was hard enough in the gruelling conditions of the harsh Barrier Mountains without the other clans making life harder.

Those sounds of song and harmony would resound in Ingressus' mind as sirens, bleeding pain into his mind, rendering him sleepless for weeks as he suffered, time and time again, the agony of hearing his friends and family slaughtered for something they couldn't recall. Every so often, the sound of a Prime Song would be heard and Ingressus would hide under a table of the nearest tent, hug his knees tightly into his chest, and pray that they wouldn't find him. He would scrunch his face in anticipation, holding his hand over his mouth to hide his feeble whimpers as he hoped that there would still be someone there for him when it was all over.

Not a week went by where this wasn't how things were for him. Every. Week.

And every time he came out to see what was left of the ensuing battle, he would look to the Voltaris Master, standing tall with Voltar and his broadsword amidst the dust. Dominus did everything he could to ensure that his clan would survive, but he would never forget those that didn't.

He had looked out for Ingressus ever since he could barely walk – since his first days adorned in red. He had to. He was his son, and nothing would ever take that away from him.

He turned to see Ingressus tentatively peer around his tent to look upon the destruction of yet another camp. He was exasperated, tired, but he smiled at him, nonetheless. They were both okay.

"You can come out, now. It's over," Dominus said as he holstered his sword on his back.

The storm still raged on above their heads, but they were used to that by now. At least the Songs were no longer accompanying the terrifying bass, shuddering the ground on which they stood.

Ingressus took his time, but he walked out onto the snow to meet his father, gazing at the broken pieces of the makeshift camp that they considered home. A few other Voltaris slowly appeared from through the snowy winds and their markings became clear – not all was lost.

It wouldn't stop him from looking to the lifeless bodies that littered the ground amongst the rubble, colourless against the snow. Some of them he didn't recognise – they must have been the forces from the other clans that had attacked – but he still felt sorrow for the lives that were so needlessly lost in a battle so easily avoided. He mewled sadly.