We bring you to the beginning - not where it all began, but where it all went wrong; where the lies grew, where the corruption gained sentience, where the foe was no longer clear and the friend was tainted...
It's a similar starting point. You'll be familiar with everything - the characters, the place, the setting. What you won't be familiar with is how it all ended. By then, it will all be beyond recognition as the Deathsinger notices something different about the Tidesinger that he first thought was good. How quickly he turned out to be wrong...
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Mt Velgrin.
Night.
No-one knew what time of day it was for the moon had been blanketed over with dark and stormy clouds, blinding the people to its luminescence – just as they had over the sun during the day – destroying any hope that anyone would once again see the light of the moon on the other side of war.
The power coursed through his veins like an unfettered vortex, swirling around his body and his mind, singing as it swam through his blood and numbing him to everything he had ever known. He had always wondered what power felt like when it was given freely. He had always wondered what pushed the Deathsinger to fight for power that he knew he shouldn't have – what possessed him to do all that he did? What possessed him to turn into the monster he had? He thought the same about Thalleous Sendaris for years – how he was the champion he was because of the power that was handed to him, how he became an unstoppable force because he embraced that power. How he wondered what possessed Thalleous to enter those tournaments time and time again for power that he could have, but felt he wanted more than anything...
Well, now he knew.
At first, he fought it. He panicked the immediate second following his connection with that power and tried to fight back against the corruption that promptly swamped his mind, erasing the faces of those that he loved, removing the memories that he cherished most and dampening his raw emotions down into nothingness – until he felt only power. He didn't want any of that. In that panic, it only made him question the Deathsinger more – is this what he feels when he used them? Is this what he yearned for all along?
What is this emptiness?
The hand of corruption gripped tightly around his throat as he fought for breath, his mind closing in around him – a battlefield of the unknown. He couldn't discern whether he was afraid of becoming something that he wasn't or whether he feared what was to come if he were to stop struggling. He reacted violently to this power for days. His emotions were erratic as he tried to maintain a hold on the feelings he longed for the most, occasionally breaking through. His sleep became non-existent as, every time he closed his eyes, he saw the unseeable – things that no-one should be subjected to, in dreams or in reality – yet, eventually, he did not feel them. He was numb to the horrors after a while.
He was numb to everything after a while.
Eventually, he just stopped fighting it. He let go of his grip on himself and allowed this power to explore the corners of his mind that he had blocked off in protection. That power stole from there, too, and before long, he couldn't remember ever being without it. The naked feeling that he had when that power was absent within his body was a worse feeling than the grip of corruption that he felt around his throat, squeezing every last part of him out, evicting his own soul from his own body, and he was glad to have found this new self within.
He would even argue that he was all the better for it. Naturally, most disagreed.
Of course, that was then.
This was now.
Achillean Nestoris channelled that pure Aggressium energy within him until he could feel nothing but the burning of his insides with power unhindered. He eyed Ingressus Voltaris in front of him as he stood knowing all too well that he had lost the Great War and the battle for the Prime Songs. He held all but one of them, thanks to the Tidesinger in his endeavour to keep the last, and most powerful, one safe, and, unless he could get to that last one, the Deathsinger would fail in his promise to his clan. That was when he made it apparent that, all along, he had a backup plan that would push him forward once again – and in a time where he would be unopposed. He had every faith that his new plan would work and that there was nothing that anyone could do to stop him – not even the Tidesinger.
What Ingressus didn't know, however, was that Achillean was more than prepared to fight him. In the beginning, the Deathsinger may have been the one to teach the Tidesinger all that he knew about combat, but it would be this new power within the Nestoris that would perfect his edge against the Voltaris, giving him the last upper hand in battle. He didn't know for a long time, that night, for Achillean had promised people that he would not let his title go to his head and kept his attacks simple and coordinated in the ensuing force; but with the Deathsinger growing desperate, Achillean was forced to play his final hand.
All cards were finally on the table.
When he countered Ingressus' arm shield with something other than his signature Aggrobeam, and instead replicated the Deathsinger's Shotgun Song, Ingressus was forced to stop and do a second take at the Tidesinger. For a single moment, they stopped and Ingressus struggled to collect his thoughts. He knew that Achillean's Aggressium Song was his Aggrobeam, his father's Song – it was the only Aggressium Song that he had been hit with since the Great War began, and it had been used to excess during their battle on Mt Velgrin, almost to a fault. He had learnt the best ways to counter it, knowing that there was nothing that Achillean could do to change it. Yet, what he had just seen was unthinkable.
Unless...
He looked at Achillean, closely. He looked into his eyes with great focus and saw the immediate absence of anything other than power. Deep within the golden glow was a pulsing red energy – a flame – that sparked behind them within the command centre, governing his every move, blindly pushing what appeared to be a whole Ardoni, but was instead only part. Ingressus straightened himself to stand tall next to the flames that poured thick smoke into the air around them, encasing the two in an area inescapable and he smiled and narrowed his eyes as Achillean relaxed his stance, awaiting the Deathsinger's next move.
"I know that look," he said, his voice low. His conniving grin grew and he slowly walked closer to the Tidesinger. "I know it well..."
Achillean said nothing and continued watching Ingressus closely. He barely moved bar fiddling with his staff in his hand, changing his hold to better be ready for the inevitable strike. Ingressus stopped merely a foot away from the Nestoris and holstered his weapons, his suspicious smile still beaming and his eyes still studying him from head to toe. He took a long look at Achillean's free hand and spotted a brief flicker of rogue Aggressium energy swirl around it. He raised his eyebrow. Achillean had the most self-control of any Ardoni that Ingressus knew, besides himself. It didn't matter what pressure that boy was put under, he could always hold his own, bite his tongue, and hang back. The same went for Songs. He rarely let his emotions show in Song, yet, that flicker of Aggressium energy was real – it could not be ignored.
There was only one reason that Ardonia's hero would be struggling to maintain his hold on control, and Ingressus made sure that his eyes never left the Tidesinger's in study, watching his reactions with the most scrutiny.
"Is that..." He trailed off for a moment, hearing his mind trying to talk himself out of asking. "Is that the Prime Song... Achillean?" Ingressus didn't need an answer to know that the Tidesinger had given in and was wielding the most powerful Prime Song in existence, but he just wanted to hear it from the one who swore that Prime Songs were the bane of the Ardoni.
Achillean's gaze hardened as he stared back at Ingressus.
"It is, Ingressus." He couldn't contain the corrupted smile that spread across his face. "Yes, it is..."
Once again, Ingressus spotted that pulsing power at the controls, behind Achillean's eyes and his teeth slipped through his lips, pleased that even the wholesome, innocent party, destined to be Ardonia's hero could fall to the power of the Prime Songs. He laughed.
"I always knew you would fall to my level, Achillean. I always knew it. I only had to wait for you to realise that you are not what everyone thought you to be. You could not rise against me if you were forever running behind in the race. Who knows..." he paused and leant into Achillean's face. "Perhaps you might stand a chance in finally besting me..."
The grip Achillean had on his staff tightened as he tilted his head, his eyes forever locked onto his target.
"You have already lost..." His voice was barely above a whisper, yet its intensity made Ingressus' hair stand on end.
"You are right. I have lost this war; but you have not defeated me." Ingressus slowly walked backwards and unsheathed both Voltar and his broadsword from his back, preparing himself for a battle he had wanted for so long. Achillean reciprocated.
"We will have to change that."
"You are my greatest adversary, Achillean. If you think that you can stop me, then dig deep. Let that Prime Song sing. Fall to my blade and know that you will have made me the single, most powerful Ardoni to have ever lived – even more powerful than Thalleous Sendaris..." Ingressus' voice exuded venom as he emphasised the Sendaris champion's name, knowing full well that it would touch a raw nerve in the Tidesinger.
He wondered, for a moment, if his demise was what reduced Achillean to his knees before the Aggressium Prime Song – if Thalleous' murder was the catalyst for corruption...
The storm clouds grew overhead, and lightning periodically lit up the sky in anger, the thunder shaking the ground beneath the two Ardoni, yet they stood poised to strike undeterred. It was too late to back out now.
Far too late...
Ingressus smiled in the face of his adversary, watching the scowl consume his features. He knew, then, that he had reached that raw nerve.
A flurry of Mobillium energy swarmed the Nestoris has he charged at Ingressus, summoning a single platform before him and Ingressus skipped back to distance himself from the fast-approaching Ardoni, yet Achillean had anticipated just that. He sprung from his conjured platform, giving himself much needed height, and he plummeted down, his aura red with Aggressium energy. Ingressus knew immediately what the Tidesinger was trying to do, but he was not quick enough to summon the Mobillium Prime as the Nestoris landed, pounding a heavy Aggroquake into the rocks below him – enough to shudder the mountain on which they stood. The force sent the Deathsinger reeling backwards and onto his back in shock. He promptly propped himself up on his elbows to spot the Tidesinger and prepare for the next strike, only to see that Achillean was rounding up yet another Aggressium attack.
Without any further hesitation, Ingressus found his inner strength to summon the Mobillium Prime's short-range teleport, transferring him out of reach of Achillean's Aggrobeam, destined to tear his skin to fiery shreds. He stumbled on his feet as he landed, looking back as Achillean repositioned his staff for another hit, strolling menacingly through the flames to meet him. He struggled to find his breath as he looked into his brother's absent eyes, ruthless with intent, anger, power... Suddenly, this wasn't a game anymore. He wasn't just fooling around, waiting to best his adversary to gain his prize.
Suddenly he was fighting for his life against a monster.
A tainted mirror...
What followed mimicked the storm above as clashes of bladed metal and enchantments, and thundering sounds of Prime Songs as they fired everywhere, lighting the mountain's summit in all colours and powers. Everyone fighting at the base could hear the twisted tune of the Songs from above, singing their battle cries until suddenly, nothing could be heard at all, but the low rumbles of the clouds cloaking the moon – until it all just stopped.
Two Ardoni ceased their battles with the Voltaris below and began the ascent up the mountain pass to Velgrin's summit, anxious to see what had been left in the wake of a Prime battle. They would find one of two possible victors. How they prayed it was the one they had hoped.
The Deathsinger crawled on his front, the stones beneath his skin scraping against his markings and he spluttered, blood quickly filling his lungs. He was unarmed and weak, but not yet defeated. Achillean was going to make sure that he wasn't going to get up any time soon.
The Tidesinger walked towards him as he desperately tried to crawl away. He twirled his staff between his fingers effortlessly and menacingly, tilting his head at his adversary. He rolled his eyes at how weak Ingressus looked, a small trail of blood forming behind him, despite his movement minimal. He swung his staff into the Voltaris' side, knocking him further away and rolling him onto his back, opening several new gashes across his body and he coughed as he fought for air. Had he the strength, Ingressus would have summoned the Mobillium Prime Song one last time in a bid to escape the wrath of the corrupted Tidesinger; but every time he felt his mental strength grow, his physical strength drained to the point where he struggled to even hold himself upright, let alone summon a Song.
Achillean laughed at his brother on the floor, weak and pathetic.
"W-what have you done?" Ingressus asked, his voice strained in agony.
Achillean paused in his tracks.
"You do not see it?"
"What is this, Achillean?"
With no response to give, Achillean narrowed his eyes and gripped his staff for another swing, sending Ingressus tumbling closer and closer to the cliff edge. With every hit that the weakened Deathsinger endured, the more and more defeated he became, realising that he had pushed for something that he wanted, but something that he was simply not ready for. In that panic, he found what strength he had left and wrapped himself in a Protisium bubble shield, just in time to protect himself from a kick to the head from the Nestoris. Achillean growled and backed off slightly. He knew Ingressus lacked the strength to maintain that shield for long. He only had to wait him out.
As it happened, it wasn't long and Ingressus fatigued, gasping for air as he brought himself up to his knees, looking up at the Tidesinger as he pressed the end of his blade against the Voltaris' chest, denting the skin ever so slightly – not yet enough to draw blood. His maniacal chuckle as he looked into the Deathsinger's terrified eyes sent shivers down his spine.
"You were right, Ingressus," he began. "You were right! This... this power... It is beautiful!" He beamed with excitement as he gestured to himself with overwhelming cockiness, maintaining pressure on his staff against the Deathsinger's chest. "No more useless emotions holding me back, telling me what I should or should not do. No more playing the 'hero' or 'playing the good guy.' I am free. I do not care..."
Ingressus gawked at his brother. Even his vibrant Nestoris glow shining through the smoke-filled atmosphere appeared...
Evil...
He knelt before him panting as every part of his body screamed in agony. If Achillean was thinking of killing him, he knew he stood no chance of even so much as attempting to escape. He simply had to take it, and given the situation, he very much doubted that it would be a quick death.
"What has happened to you? Y-you are not the brother that I remember..." His voice no longer stood the ground it had started with. He no longer had his threatening aura, his command. Even the corruption of his own Prime Songs had vacated his mind and body, almost as if in disgust, believing him to be a worthless host for their work. He was suddenly left to feel his emotions once again in front of the Ardoni he grew up with, no longer feeling his own.
"I am the very same one, Ingressus." Achillean leant closer into Ingressus' bloodied face and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "I am simply in your reflection..."
"I- I do not understand..."
Achillean pressed harder against the staff on Ingressus' chest and listened to his feeble grunt as it slipped into his skin and more blood began dribbling from the tear. He felt the tension in the Deathsinger's body as he winced, trying his hardest not to show his true weakness. His insides shattered at the sound of Achillean's chuckle.
"I could kill you right here, right now. I should for all you have put me through in this war and everything that came before – for putting everything I ever loved on the line for you. I do not doubt for one second that I will enjoy it...thoroughly..."
As if Ingressus wasn't already struggling for air, the intensity of Achillean's voice ripped it from his lungs as he looked at him in terror. It was the most fear that he had felt since the day that Thalleous attacked his camp for the last time and stole his father from him in cruelty. He had started this war so that he would never have to feel that fear again.
And yet...
"You... You are a..."
"Go on, Ingressus... Say it."
"You are a... Monster..."
"Just like you... Brother..."
The two Ardoni finally arrived atop Velgrin's summit and watched as the Deathsinger knelt defeated before the Tidesinger, battered, and bruised. It appeared hard to distinguish his markings from his wounds. They were pleased to see that the Great War had finally come to a close with the Deathsinger unable to continue his plans. There was nothing he could do that would benefit anyone, let alone himself. He was done.
Achillean noticed the Ardoni and beckoned them over.
Just as they began to make their way over, something inside Ingressus snapped and he lunged for Achillean, trying to take his staff from him and get away, but he was hastily outnumbered as the Tidesinger's staff pierced his skin more and the two other Ardoni got to him before he could do anything else. As they restrained the defeated Deathsinger and pulled his arms behind his back, he looked up at Achillean and grunted as he picked up the Deathsinger's broadsword from the ground beside them and held it tightly in his hands. He struggled against the strength of the Ardoni, fearful, after Achillean had admitted that he was a monster. He knew something was wrong about him from the start, but the Prime Song rendered his brother unrecognisable.
Achillean tilted his head at Ingressus as he still knelt before him, weak.
"So close, yet so far..." he taunted. Ingressus sighed. "You really thought I would let you do this so easily? Oh, Gress... You fool."
Ingressus averted Achillean's hardened gaze, almost ashamed. He knew the war was lost when his alliance with the Nether had crumbled on Chronos' retreat back into the realm, but he still thought that he would survive to come back and try again. He had made that promise to his clan and he had failed to keep it. He was at the mercy of the Tidesinger.
And Achillean knew it.
He grabbed Ingressus' jaw and forced him to look him dead in the eyes. For the first time since they met each other on the shore of Nestoria all those decades ago, Achillean could see right through Ingressus - all the way to his core. It was shaken into nothingness. He was... vulnerable... Yet when Ingressus stared back at his brother, he had never seen eyes so hollow, so absent. He was gone. Achillean wasn't there. Only the Tidesinger remained, but the Tidesinger was not a hero. He was corrupted. Heavily retained. Redemptionless...
Prime Songs had stolen more from him than he realised.
Achillean scoffed.
"You have nothing to say to me? After all this?"
Maintaining eye contact, Ingressus responded without hesitation.
"I will never have anything to say to you after this." His tone was harsh, and his words were growled in an attempt to stand his ground in his position. When Achillean smiled, Ingressus' stomach dropped. The malice that dripped from the Nestoris would poison his mind for months to come.
"We had better make sure of that, then, but I think you might regret it..." Achillean gripped Ingressus' broadsword in his hand and let go of the Voltaris' jaw. His movement was swift and indistinguishable.
It was known what he had done when Ingressus tried to cry out in pain, yet no sound was heard. No sound made it out. He could only gasp, reaching for air that he could not hold, scrambling for a voice he no longer had, now ripped from him in war. Achillean knew that it was only temporary; his voice would return eventually – it would heal. He anticipated it, but for now, he was satisfied that there would be no word from the Deathsinger while they figured out what to do with him. In one last attempt to taunt his brother, he lifted his chin up with the tip of the blade.
"What about now? Anything to say?"
Ingressus could think of a thousand things to say to the Nestoris after what had just happened. Achillean knew all too well of all the words that suddenly swarmed Ingressus' mind like a relentless vortex - words he would not yet be able to say for his brother had cut them off – silenced like the rest of his clan had been for generations. He smiled evilly at the Voltaris before turning to the two Ardoni that held him down.
"Take him. I will deal with him later. No-one knows anything, understand? In the meantime, not a single Voltaris survives, am I clear? I do not want to see a single shade of red on an Ardoni - I do not care what you must do."
On hearing the threat to his clan growing greater than even his scariest nightmares could ever pertain to, Ingressus could have screamed.
But he didn't. Not for a long time...