Altered Destiny

Ch. 4

I just realized that Galleous still doesn't know Ingressus's name. Oops. I meant to do that before now.

Ingressus didn't just take Galleous's word for it. He snuck around the forge again that night, inspecting the various nooks and crannies that the daylight had revealed. He even draped a blanket over his markings and risked creeping up to the cave entrance, in case Galleous might have Voltar hidden away up there. But there was no sign of it. Nor had any weapons appeared in any of the chests. He tucked away some extra food, and nabbed some supplies for making his salvaged blade into a more practical weapon. All the while, his thoughts were on what he would do.

He missed home so badly, missed the mountains and the snow, the silence that descended during a gentle snowfall, nights spent huddled together with his friends and family around the fire. He missed sparring with them, missed the hunting competitions to see who could catch the biggest game. He missed cocooning under a blanket with the other children to ward off the cold as they listened to the stories that Gyarus would tell them as the sun went down. He would give anything to go back, back to the mountains, back to before the raid. But he couldn't, could he? Gyarus was gone, the other children were gone, his father was gone. He was the only one left.

Ingressus blinked hard as tears blurred his vision, swiping roughly at his face to wipe them away.

The mountains were home. Ingressus knew they shouldn't be, knew that they were harsh and unforgiving, as much prison for his clan as sanctuary. But he couldn't help it. The Barrier Mountains were the only place he'd ever known. The thought of never seeing them again was... it was like someone was trying to pull his already-aching heart from his chest.

But if returning would lead raiders to his people... if that was why he had been spared... then he couldn't go back.

With this, you are now Master of the Voltaris clan.

But how could he stay away? What kind of Master would he be if he didn't even try to go back to his people? He was supposed to help them, to keep them safe, to find them safe places to make camp and to plan supply raids and defense patrols and do everything his father had done, and he wasn't sure he could do all that but how could he just do nothing?

And then there was the matter of Voltar. Ingressus hadn't been able to search Galleous's room yet; he wasn't sure when he would get that chance. If Galleous didn't have it, if it had been lost in the ocean– well, it wouldn't be the first time the Master staff had been lost to the clan. There had been a couple times that raiders had killed a Master and stolen Voltar as a spoil of war. A Master staff would always find its way back to its clan, though. Voltar had every other time, even if it took years. Ingressus knew it would this time, too, wherever it had ended up, whether or not he was capable of bringing it back. But could he lead without it?

It wasn't like he had no right to the position without the staff. His father had named him Master; his word was enough for Ingressus to succeed him. But what could he really do for his clan? The other groups had gotten by just fine without his father being there with them every day. A Master could only be in one place at once, but that hadn't stopped other groups from getting by without their constant presence. The memories Voltar held were a guide to its wielders, but it wasn't like a clan was doomed if they were without it for a while. The Voltaris especially were tough; they would always find a way to survive. Ingressus would need its guidance if he returned, but his clan wouldn't.

Ingressus pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. His clan... didn't need him.

The thought hurt more than he would've guessed. Maybe he'd wanted to honor his father's last act. Maybe he had wanted to believe there was a reason fate had spared him when so many others had been lost. Maybe he had wanted a reason to have to go back home, to attempt the journey despite the risk.