Eddipus lay in his bed, a thick fur blanket draped over him and Hilda, providing warmth in the cool darkness of their longhouse. He stared at her as a gleam of moonlight pierced through a crack in the ceiling. His eyes never wavered from her form as he willed himself to sleep. Sleep would not come. Try as he might, Eddipus could not find rest.
Hilda gave a sigh, her lids fluttering open to find Eddipus curled up to her like an elven puppy. His eyes were wide and alert, like he expected danger. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Can't sleep?" she whispered lovingly.
Eddipus smiled, his eyes twinkling. "No, I can't." His voice was tinged with exhaustion.
"The Winds whisper.""...and what do they foretell, beloved?"
Hilda queried as she stroked his arm. "What could cause them to summon you from slumber?"
"They speak of a Tower," he said solemnly, as his eyebrows rose. "War is coming."
Hilda gasped, and laid a hand on Eddipus's shoulder, "A war?"
"They whisper that it is coming, Hilda," Eddipus murmured, his voice trembling with trepidation. He clenched his teeth nervously.
The early morning light cast a long, bright flare replacing the moon's gleam. Eddipus and his companion lay still on the large, blanketed bed. A chill ran down his spine, an unease that he'd never felt before. He could sense the Wind's in the air, a deep warning that something wasn't right, but he couldn't quite place it other than a war was coming. "Hilda," he mumbled under his breath.
"Yes," Hilda said, kissing his forehead, comforting Eddipus in a warm embrace. She looked him in the eye and pressed a hand over his heart. Eddipus pressed his lips against Hilda's in a passionate kiss. She returned his affections with a serene smile, yet something still seemed to trouble him.
"I can't help but feel scared," he confessed hesitantly. "It's been quite some time since I've felt like this."
"Listen to them for now," Hilda replied wisely. "The Winds have spoken. It means that the Master has intentions for you. If he does, then it can't be all that bad."
****
Samson's lifeless form was now cold to the touch, sprawled across the pile of leaves. The coppery scent of Rose's venom mixed with blood and berry. The smell seeped from the bite mark on his neck. His blue eyes, which had always been filled with such strength and vigor, stared blankly at the sky.
"No," Mirranda whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief. "Samson, please..."
Anguish clawed at her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She wrapped her trembling arms around his fragile figure, looking into his empty glass-like eyes, searching for any sign of life. But there was nothing, no pulse, no breath. The boy who had fought so bravely by her side, the boy who had shown her what love truly was, was gone.
"Please..." she choked, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. "You can't leave me... I need you."The world around her stopped, mourning for her loss. The wind ceased its gentle dance through the leaves, birds fell silent in despair, and even the sun dimmed. As her sobs echoed bitterly through the clearing, the cruel reality of Samson's death settled upon her like a shroud.
"Samson!" Mirranda screamed, her voice raw with pain. "Don't go!"Her cries grew louder, filling the empty and exposed spaces between the towering trunks of the Forest's weeping timbers. As her despair reached its peak, she buried her face in Samson's cold chest, her heart threatened to shatter into pieces.
An oppressive darkness closed in around her, causing her to feel powerless. Her vision blurred, limbs growing heavy and weak. Tendrils of unconsciousness wrapped themselves around her mind. Unable to fight any longer, Mirranda surrendered to the darkness and collapsed beside Samson's unmoving body feeling scarred, helpless, overwhelmed and weak. Her tears soaking into his bright, blonde, beautiful hair.
"Samson... I love you," she whispered one last time, one last time before everything faded away--The trees swayed, the wind blew, the stars grew brighter and Mirranda stirred from her despair-induced slumber. Her swollen eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus on the blurry world around her. The leaves beneath her shifted once more, and she froze, her heart pounding in her chest."Mirranda..." The whisper was barely audible, but it struck her like a bolt. She lifted her head. It couldn't be.
"Samson?" she spoke, trembling with cautious hope.
Her vision cleared, revealing Samson's bright, bold baby blue eyes, now open and gazing at her with confusion. The sight of his living, breathing form brought her back from defeat, snapping her out of her melancholic shock. Her despair was followed by a wave of relief so intense, it nearly knocked her off balance. She blinked back fresh tears of happiness.
Before he could respond, Mirranda threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. He winced at the contact, but recovered quick, returning the embrace.
"Mirranda, where?... Where am I?" he murmured. "Rose bit me, and everything went dark."
Mirranda pulled back far enough to look into his eyes no longer clouded by death's cold touch. "It doesn't matter. You're here, you're alive."
"Alive?" Samson echoed, his brow furrowing as he glanced around the clearing. "But Cardamon—"
"Rose banished us, Samson. She's made her choice." Mirranda assured him, her voice firm. "We can go home now, forget all this."
His expression softened, and he reached up to brush a tear from her cheek. "I like the sound of that."
For the first time since their journey began, the weight of the world and worry for her sister lifted ever so from her weary shoulders. Together, they rose from the pile of leaves, Mirranda supporting Samson as he took his first shaky step since waking from consciousness.
Mirranda listened to the gentle rustle of branches swaying overhead. The sounds of the Westerian Forest began to soothe her frayed nerves, and her heart swelled knowing Samson would be alright.
The shadows lengthened, stretching out before them like dark fingers. Mirranda's heart pounded in her chest, a steady rhythm. She clung to Samson's hand as they navigated the treacherous forest floor.
"Do you feel it? Something isn't right."
He cast her a reassuring smile. "We've faced worse. We'll be fine."But even as he spoke the words, a chill gripped Mirranda's spine, wrapping itself around her, threatening to choke the life out of it. Her gaze darted around them, searching for some sign of danger, but all she saw was the forest and Samson.
Then, without reason, Samson unsheathed his scimitar, his gaze distant. She readied her bone sword.
"Perhaps you were right, Mirranda. Something is wrong. Can't you feel it?" Then he grinned. "Can't you see it?" His grin became wider, turning to her, peering at her with his bright, blue eyes. Alarmed, Mirranda noticed that they were too bright, too deep. Not Samson's.
"Samson?" she whispered. His eyes fluttered for a moment. As she gazed into those once familiar depths, she realized with terror that she had seen those eyes before. They were cold, calculating and malicious eyes. They were Valaria's glowing, hypnotic eyes.
"Hello, little Spiderling," He said... but it wasn't Samson. Valaria's voice purred through his lips, her words dripping like a poisonous, seething leech. "Did you really think you could escape me so easily?"
Valaria sneered through Samson's smirking mouth as her laughter escaped his lips, echoing through the forest. Mirranda grabbed Samson's shoulders and shook him, desperate to break the connection. "You're stronger than this, Samson! You can defeat her!"
His body convulsed in her grasp, but she held firm. In a desperate attempt to save Samson, with a trembling hand, Mirranda reached for the pouch tied and dangling behind his loincloth. She seized the paper within it. The parchment was their last hope. Mirranda's grip tightened around Hilda's chant as she pulled it out. No mercy was shown as Valaria raised his blade high into the air before bringing it down towards Mirranda's arm. An agonizing scream escaped her lips as the sharp steel seared her skin and left behind a burning pain of metal upon flesh. A Dark red river of blood began to flow from the wound, yet she refused to let go of it.
"Samson, hold on!" Mirranda cried. She unfolded the parchment, her eyes scanning the ancient elvish inscribed upon it. She focused on the words, trying to draw strength from them, knowing that it was up to her to vanquish Valaria. Samson's very soul counted on her.
A wild wind wailed, spinning the skeleton leaves in a furious dance like a vortex around them. They circled in a captivating, whirling gale of colour and movement."Pathetic girl!" Valaria snarled through Samson's lips. "You think you can be rid of me so easy!" She swirled the scimitar around Samson's young, toned form, racing and laughing toward Mirranda.
Mirranda backed away as fast as she could, still reading as the air crackled with energy. "Mirranda. I can't stop her! I'm sorry!" Samson gasped, his light, baby blue eyes clouded over with a deep blue as forget-me-not hue. He fought to regain control, his loyalty to Mirranda driving him to resist Valaria's vile influence. "I won't let her win! I love you, Mirranda!" He yelled and forcefully turned the blade toward his chest.
Mirranda's sharp scream ripped around the woodland, piercing the air. Her gaze locked onto a single narrow line of crimson trickling down a cut in his chest.
Valaria gritted his teeth and forcing it away, yelled! "Stop it! You pitiful elve. It won't save her!"His arms shook, Valaria pulling the blade away from him as Mirranda countered fiercely, her eyes cast back to the paper. She felt the power of Hilda's words building up, and she unleashed it in one final cry.
The force of the blast sent a shock wave through the area, the swirling leaves falling to the ground in response. Valaria's dark essence roared like a beast, her icy claws failing to hold onto Samson's soul any longer as the young elven boy was sent flying into the air, crashing into a nearby tree. He collapsed in an unceremonious heap.
Mirranda rushed to his side. He was exhausted but very much alive. She cradled his head in her lap, her fingers brushing back the damp strands of his blonde hair. "Samson, can you hear me?"
"Mirranda." His eyes fluttered open in pain and confusion. "Valaria is gone," he whispered. Mirranda's tears cascaded as she held him tight. The relief was like no other she had experienced, and her heart overflowed with bliss. She enveloped him in a warm, unbreakable embrace. "It's okay, we're safe now, Mirranda."
The agony in his chest was like the blazing of Abbadoth, yet he forced a smile on his brave face as he held Mirranda. With a great effort, he pulled her close and held her tight, allowing his eyes to drift close. He felt the power of her love, quelling his pain.
As they held each other beneath a canopy of leaves, the Forest, nature itself rustled with life once again as if celebrating their triumph."Come, Mirranda," Samson said softly, staggering to his feet. "Let's go home."
"Home," she repeated, her eyes shining with love. "Yes, let's go home."They trudged wearily through the Westerian Forest and out into the Forest of the Red, their footsteps dragging as if they were weighed down by stones. They entered the desolate Land of the Dead, the branches of dead trees creaking with every gust of wind.
They had reached the halfway point on their exhibition back to the North. It would take one more night, two at the most, before they'd reach their destination."Let's set up camp here," Samson said as he gestured to a small clearing amidst the skeletal trees. The twisted branches loomed overhead like bony fingers reaching out to grasp the sky. In the distance lay a mountain pass.
Samson's blue eyes scanned the area with vigilance, his elven senses alert for any sign of danger. Despite the dry air, he remained steadfast to protect Mirranda and make sure all was right. What little was in their water skin, he gave to her.
They went about the task of setting up their camp. The trees around them were the color of ash, standing lifeless and stiff, devoid of the smallest hint of foliage. Nature itself had forsaken the area, leaving only the hollow shells of a once-majestic land of elms to serve as a grim reminder of what Valaria had done.
"Samson," she called out, seeking comfort from the courageous elven boy. He looked up from his work, striking flint against the steel of his scimitar toward a pile of branches.
"Are you okay, Mirranda?" He asked. He started the fire and crossed the distance between them. She nodded, biting her lip as she tried to suppress the fear that threatened to bubble over.
"I can't shake everything that had happened," she admitted. "Especially with Rose."
Samson's eyes narrowed, and his hand instinctively went to her shoulder. "She made her choice, as you said." he tried to reassure her.
"That I do know. Nevertheless, she is still my sister." She fought tears. "No matter what she does or ever did, I retain the memories of her. She was young and innocent, standing beside me and now without her there feels like a hole in my heart."
Samson glanced off in the distance, his voice solemn and trembling. "When I lost my master, Lord Elijah Adohi of the forest, I might as well had lost a father." He reached out and grasped her hands in his own. She leaned in closer to him as he spoke.
"I sympathize with loss as I always do." he kissed her head. "My heart bears an emptiness that can't be filled." He sighed heavily before continuing. "Rose isn't with you, but don't let her choices kill your spirit. She broke your heart. Let her not shackle your soul. Bind that beast and give it a morsel every so often but leave it be." He paused, giving time for his words to sink in.
"Even though she's still alive, she might as well be symbolically dead due to what she has done. That doesn't mean you are too".
They situated the Ziz blanket next to the crackling fire."Rest now, my love," Samson murmured, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. "We've come so far together. We'll make it through."
"Goodnight, Samson," she replied, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed her. With that, the two young lovers drifted off, holding each other tight through the night. Time stretched on and Samson stirred in his sleep. Memories of Mirranda's love and trials they had faced echoed in his mind.
Then his eyes snapped open, the small fire casting flickering shadows across his face. Samson looked over at Mirranda, still slumbering peacefully in his arms, her chest rising and falling softly. He smiled at the presence of her.
"Mirranda," Samson whispered, nudging her awake. She awoke, revealing her dark eyes, clouded in sleep.
"Samson? What is it?"
"Something has changed within me."
"Changed?" Mirranda frowned as she sat up, clutching the Ziz feather blanket to her chest. Had the witch returned? "What do you mean?"
"Valaria... when she possessed me, I felt Rose's poison leave my body." Samson proclaimed. "I also feel stronger than before. Like she had left something behind."Mirranda's hands gripped the edges of the blanket as if it were a lifeline. She searched his face, looking for any hint of deception or Valaria.
"She is gone, only a shadow of her remains." Samson replied earnestly, wrapping his arms around her.
The sun broke through the night sky and as they finished packing up Samson shouldered their belongings beneath his cape. They set off on their journey back to North.
"Remember," Samson said. "We are Mirranda and Samson of the North – and together, we conquer the darkness." Pushing every part of her deep down, Samson listened to Valaria's tortured and blood-curdling, ear-piercing shriek cut like a knife.
As her strength gave out, she fell to her knees and howled out of agony, anger, and defeat. She reached towards the sky, begging for mercy. In the end, there was none to be found for her as he listened to her dissipate, her voice becoming a mere whisper. As the screams turned more soft, Valaria became an enigma, slipping away into the shadows.
As Samson walked alongside Mirranda, Valaria came back and her threatening words chilled him to the bone. "Samson, I'll be waiting for my chance to release my wrath and Mirranda will die by your own hand!" He could no longer keep her prisoner and so reluctantly he let down his defenses, letting her go. His gut churned as he felt Valaria drift away, knowing that she had planted a sinister seed of fear in his heart. Valeria had her vengeance, and Samson felt the icy grasp of terror on his spine. From here on out he would always have to keep a watchful eye, looking over his shoulder.
****
Veileen of Alchov advanced quick, his muscles coiling as he released arrows like a berserker. Low, the Chestme knight countered each movement with a flurry of movements, blocking using his saber. He deflected every projectile that came his way. The whizzing and chink of blade against arrow echoed through the room, creating an atmosphere filled with tense excitement. Val snarled, "Come at me," as he ran past a heavy tapestry, the smell of stale air filling his nostrils.
Low cursed under his breath, his saber flashing in the torchlight. Val released a volley of arrows, forcing him to block each one with his sword. One arrow found him, grazed his arm, drawing blood. Gritting his teeth, Low lunged forward, twirling his blade with deadly precision. As he neared him, Val drew two roundels from his belt, dancing with epic grace and agility.
They clashed, blade on blades. Val ducked and weaved with quick elegance. He bared his teeth and growled as Low hissed back. Both fought with no inhibition, delivering wounds that would leave scars behind, a permanent reminder of their epic dual.
Low barreled into Val and flung him against the wall. Val retaliated, shoving Low away and sprinted to a corner of the chamber, wielding Mercer, his bow named in honor of his father. An exquisite piece of craftsmanship, it had been carved during the rebellion against the Rapha. He launched four arrows simultaneously at Low, but all were deftly deflected. Undeterred, Val advanced closer as he fired another volley from Mercer.
Low was trapped; there was nowhere to go. He had no other option but to grip the hilt of his sword. As Val kept inching ever closer, Low's only hope was that he'd dodge each and every arrow from the former mercenary-for-hire.
Val was close now and Low lunged forward, weapon still in hand. The hilt of his sword thundered into Val's skull. Even with the slight pain, Val never stopped moving, smiling a wicked grin as he backed away and released another volley. Dodge, parry, block- Low evaded each one narrowly. Val drew a mighty breath, then let one more arrow go. It whistled through the air and struck its target with an unyielding thud. Low felt the sharp sting as it plunged into his arm, ripping him back and securely pinning him to the wall. The Chestme Lizard Knight fought to break free all in vain.
Val began to laugh, walking to Low.
The Chestme lizard's voice cracked through the air as he hissed in agony, "Pull this thing out!" Val gritted his teeth as he yanked the green arrow from Low's shoulder. Val felt a punch against his back, but it caused him little discomfort, and Low roared with laughter. "Good game, Governor Val," he said with a clap on his back. "Well-played!"He shook his head and sighed in disappointment. "Could've been better," Val said.
Low looked back, his face twisted in a cauldron of confusion. "What could you mean?" Low asked, trying to control his pain. He shook his head. "That was fun." Val marched toward a cloth and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "As far as training goes, fun is all you got out of it."
Low stumbled after the Alchovian leader, his boots scraping against the rough floor of the training room. He followed him through a secret door in the wall and into a grimy home. The governor left the decaying home and veered left. They passed crooked buildings and alleys. The two kept walking until they arrived at the back entrance of the old tavern, Kahn's Kontact. Then they exited into the Grey Quarter and finally up onto the lower-level docks coated in a thick layer of seaweed.
Low arrived at the Alchovian ranks wanting to train under Val weeks ago. As he approached Alchov, his chest swelled with pride - he was a Chestmian Knight, and nothing could bring him greater joy than fighting and improving his fighting. He couldn't help but talk about the marvel that was his towering city. As he would describe the citadel.
"Its spiraling peaks reach up to the clouds like an ancient tree rooted in the Fonde." Though it was surrounded by forest on all sides, it stood proud and strong. The Glenoids, as the Chestmians were sometimes known, were an exception in Westerian - a land primarily dominated by Man. But Low knew he belonged among the Alchovians, true warriors who had band together to defeat Rapha giants. Low had committed the gravest of offenses in Chestme, treason so heinous it was punishable by death.
He had disobeyed their King Nimmod, the lizard lord of the Glenoids and ventured outside the city walls. This crime was strictly forbidden by royal decree and the punishment was savage. It meant he could never return.
They ventured to the Governor's Hall on the topmost level and pushed open the great doors. A lush, golden-haired beauty rose from a throne with captivating grace. She approached, every movement exuding allure and presence. She smelled the scent of danger and sweat. She was Raven - governess of Alchov and wife to Veileen. She shot Val a frustrated glance.
Raven clenched her jaw as she watched the young Knight disappear as he ascended up the stairwell. Val shot a mocking stare toward her, his devilish smirk only stoked her fire. With an air of dominance, he reached out and firmly clasped her hip, pulling her into an embrace.
"Training in the quarter again?" she said.
Val couldn't help but curl his lip into a beaming smile, his gaze lingering on her beauty. Raven's cascading mane of golden hair sparkled like liquid sunlight. A bronze diadem set atop her head and only served to make her look more regal. Her scowl deepened yet, even her anger was beautiful to Val.
Val's emerald garb was disheveled from the dual; his amber-brown eyes gleamed mischievously when they met hers. "I can take it," Val said. "I like to keep others on their toes."The former Darkling narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him with an unwavering frustration. "You sure do know how to keep me on my toes," she muttered with a smirk, wiping away the scowl from her face as the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. He shrugged, as if it were nothing.
"I don't get out much these days. You training others, coming home cut and bruised puts a crimp in our normal life. Besides," she added, "It's hard to soothe a governor after a long dual, if he is too tired. Catch my drift."
Val ran his fingers through Raven's blond hair and smiled flirtatiously at her. "Raven, I couldn't tire of you."
"You say that now, but--" Raven answered with a soft, sweet reply, pulling him closer to her, gazing into his eyes as she slipped her hands around his neck. She whispered tenderly, "But one day you'll see that every second we spend apart is a second too long and you'll regret it." A troubled expression crossed her face. Behind Val stood a girl carrying a leather bag with a buckle and a purple hat.
The young girl, cloaked and bearing the insignia of House Cardamon wore clothing of royal purple hues glinting in the torchlight. Tales of a dark fate had spread over Seaside Alchov like wildfire. It was said that the castle had crumbled and the Queen had jumped from a window. "Come forth, messenger," Raven said. "What news from Cardamon?"The messenger girl peeked out from under her hat, her gaze focused on the floor in humble admiration.
She knelt before the Alchovian leaders, her voice steady. "My mistress has a message for you," she said with pride yet with a hint of innocence, as Val and Raven settled into their thrones and waited expectantly. "A new ruler has emerged in Cardamon in the land of Fonde SSique of Westerian!" Her gentle expression darkened and twisted into a gloating sneer. The governor and governess shivered with dread at her changing demeanor. With a dramatic pause, the girl's smile widened.
"She intends to destroy all who stand in her way." The air crackled with tension as the girl's words echoed off the walls of the hall. "Who dares challenge our rule?" Raven growled. Her sapphire eyes flashed, and she steepled her fingers.
"Rose, the Spiderling daughter of Ezekiel and Aracnia!" she said, bowing her head. Her chestnut-brown hair hung close against her face. "Queen of Cardamon, ruler of Westerian!" The messenger girl stood tall, straightened her shoulders, and looked at the two. The leaders exchanged worried glances, Val knowing the term Spiderling. It seemed that war would be inevitable and that they'd have to send word to old friends.
****
Mirranda and Samson made their way toward the North. The familiar scent of pine filled their nostrils. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, relief washed over them. Home, finally within reach.
"We're almost there." Samson breathed, his voice laced with exhaustion. His striking blue eyes locked onto the horizon. Guardsmen from Cardamon emerged from the brush. One leveled his sword at Mirranda and Samson. "In the name of our Lady Rose, you will die!"
Mirranda's relief turned to ice in her veins as she took in the hardened expressions on the guardsmen's faces. She knew they would show no mercy; these men had sworn their allegiance to her sister, and they would fight to the death to complete her orders. Samson readied himself, drawing his scimitar from its sheath with a swift, fluid motion. His youthful energy shone in his eyes.
With no other choice, Mirranda opened her back, sprouting her Spiderling form, her body tensing as she prepared for battle. The guardsmen closed in around them. Her bone sword clutched in her hand, she parried a blow. Together, they faced the onslaught, their hearts beating as one. The rhythm pulsed like a fearsome war drum and they met the guardsmen's strikes with their weapons. Samson, standing beside her, moved with fluid grace, his scimitar slicing through the air.
Mirranda spat, her anger flared. She let her Spiderling capabilities surge, crawling with agility up trees and leaping on guardsmen. She sent a web towards a guardsman. The web wrapped around his sword arm, yanking it back and rendering him defenseless as Samson's scimitar flashed by, slashing across his throat.
More guardsmen rushed forward and Samson spun, his scimitar a whirlwind of steel as he parried their attacks. His elven speed and agility were breathtaking, and Mirranda felt a fierce pride surge through her at the sight of him.
They moved in tandem, their bodies weaving together like an intricate dance. Mirranda's Spiderling abilities disarming and immobilizing several guardsmen as Samson's scimitar blurred through them, fending off any who managed to evade her webs.
Mirranda's chest rose and fell with each labored breath. They pressed onward, their adrenaline at its peak. With a deep breath, she charged headlong into the fray. As she danced, her movements were fluid and deadly, each swing of her bone sword cutting through them like a razor. Samson's scimitar flashed as he plunged it into the chest of a guardsman who had come too close. The young boy's face was a mask of fierce concentration, refusing to let any harm come to Mirranda.
The battle grew more intense, additional guardsmen joining the fight. Sweat had collected on Mirranda's brow as she fought harder, her body pushed to its limits. She knew they couldn't keep this up forever. "We need a plan, Samson!" she cried out, her voice hinting at desperation.
Samson dispatched another foe with a swift slash. "I won't let them take you! Watch my back!" he shouted, his scimitar flashing as he parried another incoming strike.
"Samson, on your left!" Mirranda cried out, and without hesitation, Samson pivoted, his scimitar finding its mark. As they fought side by side, Mirranda noticed movement along the periphery of the forest –
Cardamon royal assassins. They slinked through the chaos, eyes fixed on Mirranda and Samson. Her eyes flickered toward their new adversaries.
"Let them come," Samson growled, his grip tightening on his scimitar. Their bodies acted in perfect harmony as they faced their enemies. Though the odds were against them, they refused to give up – for it was in these moments of desperation that their bond burned brightest.
Overwhelmed and outnumbered, they broke free of their encircling foes, sprinting towards the safety of a narrow gap in the tree line. Evading their enemies, Mirranda and Samson were gone, swallowed up by the shadows of the Forest.