"When the Shadows speak, the faithful shall follow?" A disgruntled Miasmador asked, an incredulous tone coming over his voice. "Where did you learn that, boy?"
"Who do you think?" Althalos raised an eyebrow, hardly moving under Miasmador's big claw that trapped him in a deadly embrace. "Where do you think?"
"Predutik zi kaerz." Came the blue dragon's voice as she stared at the fire, a somber tone coloring her own voice. "Miasmador daepktus."
Miasmador looked at the blue dragon, his female kin, with widened red eyes. "Daepktus eni?"
His growl had reached a deafeningly loud sound to Althalos's ears, and he wondered why the others had not woken up yet from it. He also wondered about another thing, and he decided to intrude upon their little discussion by asking,"Since when did you know the language of the dragons, Miasmador?"
"How do you think I learnt it, boy?" The dragon asked Althalos, annoyed, but not looking at the man that was trapped under his own claw.
"From your... friend?" He asked, intentionally insinuating deeper and not too clean things, only evoking more annoyance from the two as they glared at him with lidded eyes. A smile was all he gave them, only exacerbatin the situation.
Daring.
Thank you, milord.
"Why do you think that, Seraith?" Miasmador asked the other dragon that now approached them, slumping beside Miasamdor. Their eyes met, and Althalos just had to interrupt once more, this time making cooing noises, grinning at them with the same grin that unnerved them earlier.
"Will you stop it?" Seraith asked him, huffing out a plume of smoke that his his nostrils, entering his lungs, and he coughed and gagged.
Now, the roles were reversed as Althalos stared at the female blue dragon with voidless eyes, the smile inverted, while theirs weren't.
"Better, now listen to me, my kin."
Althalos yawned, coughing slightly as the smoke still stung and burnt his insides. His scalp itched, but he could not affort to reach it, for Miasmador's hold on him was so tight it felt like the dragon could crush him just by pushing hard enough.
The dragons blathered off to their unrecognizable language, and Althalos caught traces of human words here and there, but was otherwise still bombarded by words he knew nothing about, a language he didn't even know the name of.
I wish there was some sort of device that could translate any language, whether new or old, forgotten or remembered. Hearing these dragons stutter about in their strange tongue, it makes my head hurt.
He half-expected a retort from the demon lord, but none came forward, though he did not mind it in the least.
He, at least, knew of his master's busy schedules.
What can this device be called? His mind started to wander off as he talked to himself about this "device" that he concocted by himself.
Perhaps the Tar... He shook his head. No, that's too mundane and it would make no sense to others.
He chuckled. But that's a brilliant idea. Some translator that only I know the meaning of. It would baffle the minds of scholars for generations to come!
I wish I can travel through time and space. His mind now spawned up from his pits of fantasies. Maybe a device that can both translate any language so I can understand it and ship me across times.
Where do I keep having these ideas? He asked himself, looking up into the stars above, still hearing the discussions of the dragons.
I wonder now, if there is something out there that is the last of its kind. I wonder if we are the only ones in this realm.
There are other mortals out there, my disciple. You need only look for them.
Lord Master. He responded in a respectful way, nodding his head carefully, so as not to impale himself with Miasmador's spikes where it was so appropriately placed on the sides of his claws, reaching into his nails---claws, Althalos could not even bother.
What other creatures live in this mortal realm, Lord Master?
Have you heard of the Provenes?
The what? His ears eagerly waited, and his mind was filled with excitement over this new information about to be passed down unto him. What are they, Lord Master?
Clearly amused once more of his disciple's undying obedience and adoration, a chuckle was heard in Althalos's mind before the demon lord spoke again, ironic as it may be that a demon was teaching a human. Men such as yourself, but forced to be parted with their own humanity.
I do not understand.
Men who have lost their souls, just like you, my slave, forever bound to me.
The Shadow Champion, Althalos, did not even blink an eye as the words he heard echoed out into his consciousness, strangely barren except for the demon lord's presence, a dark cloud looming over the already blackened ground.
Why?
Seeking to make themselves better.
What?
They strive to become complete, and to them, they devised the best way possible, which is for their own body to be turned into an automation, monotonous wretches.
Have you encountered them in your travels, Lord Master?
The Provenes are not to be taken lightly. They not only seek to... Here the demon lord stopped his words, as if trying to find a suitable term. upgrade themselves, but they also seek the others' advancement, their lust is almost the same as your wanting for knowledge.
You noticed that?
The passion gleams in your eyes.
What other strange creatures have you encountered? He asked now, ignoring the demon lord's last remark, only proving Merec's assumption of Althalos's wanting for knowledge.
The Sicxum. Only I have met them, and when the time comes, you will too.
The words burned in his mind, and he found himself asking more, pouring more words towards the demon lord.
What are they?
Masters of stealth, just like me, and only they can hope to match my skills.
Why? Am I not worthy enough, Lord Master?
No. You have yet to stand for their power, boy. His harsh, unyielding, and truthful voice broke through Althalos's defences, and he found himself thinking of himself as weaker and unworthy of such a title as Merec's servant, his disciple, acolyte, follower, worshipper, and most powerful of all words, Champion.
The Sicxum stick to the shadows, away from eyes and ears, and even then, their strides are rarely heard. Merec pronounced the creature's race's name fluently, but Althalos stammered a pathetic imitation, in his mind no less.
Why?
My loyal servant, the Sicxum do not exist when you look at them. They are merely everyday objects you see in your petty little lives.
What!
You heard me, my Champion. The Sicxum can be that tree, or that stone, or maybe a light feather flying with the wind. They only exist when you turn away, or if I allow such things to happen.
What do they look like?
Not even I know, for they prefer to keep into my element, and even then, I cannot look upon their true form.
Is it possible they have no form at all?
They have.
With that, he became silent, but soon enough, another question sprung up in his mind, and Althalos dared to question the demon lord.
Comparing me to them is hardly fair, Lord Master. They have a most useful strategy. Althalos complained, raising an eyebrow, though unbeknownst to him, the same action was done by the purple dragon now looking at him.
A most useful one, but the worst curse to ever be cast upon a creature as powerful as the Sicxum.
Why?
Solitude is the one enemy they cannot defeat. My powers are limitless, but my own powers cannot defeat a curse cast upon them since the beginning of Magnus itself.
They've lived that long?
They are immortal, and can only be killed by seeing their own visage. The Sicxum is stricken with the same little body and face, and as such, seeing their kin means their own death.
That is one of the best, if not the best, way to remain immortal.
The worst too. Never forget that, slave.
Of course, Lord Master.
Who had cursed them?
A laugh echoed, surprising Althalos with the cackling emanating in his mind. My idiot of a father cursed them, and it backfired on him. The Sicxum are my slaves, my followers, and when the time comes, you will fight by their side.
How do you know all of these things, my Lord Master? He asked out of reverence, not out of curiosity.
Like you, my dear slave, I am a seeker of knowledge.
Beyond your mortal realm is filled with darkness, is it not?
Yes? He responded, tone filled with reluctance.
Darkness is my domain, and wherever they tread, I am there. I am a god, mortal Champion, remember that, and as such, I can be anywhere at anytime I want.
Althalos could only stay silent, mulling over the demon lord's words, and a transient thought passed by. What would it feel like to have that power?
No answer came from the demon lord, and Althalos was slightly relieved, for he felt as if he overstepped his boundaries by wanting the same power Merec himself possessed.
The time has come, my dear Champion. We have tarried on long enough, and your fate is nigh.
Althalos was again surprised by this sudden announcement stemming from the Lord of Shadowy Death. What are you talking about, my Lord?
Your work is nearly completed, and as such, my own is also nearing its completion.
The stone? The scroll?
Yes, you fool. A harsh tone, and a sudden wince came from Althalos's side as a red streak passed through his vision, exactly when his mind hurt once more. Have you forgotten your role? The pedestal at the fountain calls, boy, and soon enough, you will be before it.
What is to be done?
Place the stone, and read the scroll. Simplicity at its best, so I expect you to finish it without any errors, or I will pulverize you. It was as if the demon lord transformed from this calm mentor to a cold-hearted bastard that cared for no one or nothing but his own goals.
But, like all slaves that choose to serve their very powerful masters, Althalos did not even think about this in the least as he replied with, Of course, Lord Master. I will serve you well.
See to it that you do, or chaos will ensue.
I shall always serve well, Lord Master.
He turned his attention back to his surroundings, away from the "friendly" presence of the demon lord, outside the barriers of his mind. Two pairs of dragon eyes stared at him, and a raised eyebrow and a casual shrug was his reply.
"What?"
"Enjoyed your cup of conversation with the demon?" Miasmador asked him in an even angrier tone.
If that was even possible for the dragon, whose rage could rival a god's own.
"Quite did. Learned many new things from my Lord Master."
"Lord Master?" Seraith retorted, tilting her giant blue head slightly. "You call him your Lord Master now? Lord isn't enough, Althalos?"
"He is the Void God, the Lord of Shadowy Death, and he deserved the proper respect!" He told them, adding a light-hearted grin at the end.
"Really, boy?"
"The Betrayer deserves respect?"
"Do not provoke him further!" Seraith hissed at Miasmador, only adding to Althalos's growing curiosity, though in turn, his growing annoyance too. But Miasmador, ever the prideful one, was not the dragon to back down, especially to one like Althalos.
"Do go on, my dear dragon friends. I'd love to hear all your thoughts." Came Althalos's happy tones, full of gaiety.
"I know of your mission, boy, and I will not allow it to happen," Miasmador told him, and the Shadow Champion's blood chilled to the point that it almost felt like it stopped flowing completely, and Althalos glared back to the dragon, a growl slipping past his throat, past his lips.
"Did you even think that you do not get a say in the matter?" He asked the two, particularly the purple-hued dragon. "Release me, for I have matters to attend."
"And what happens if I don't?"
"It is dangerous to cross with a Champion of Merec, dragon," He warned Miasmador, disrespecting him fully by not saying his name.
"It is more than dangerous to even attempt what your doing, human."
"Really, Miasmador? I can kill you just by shocking you, or with just a single word," Althalos told him, smiling at him, which quickly turned in to a scowl. "Now, let me go."
"Let him go, Miasmador," Seraith told him.
"Is ketra soh infekolv!"
"What?" Althalos asked, but was ignored.
"Sohdiv soh numiq Obrae!" Seraith countered, but again, Althalos understood nothing of their language.
"What are you two talking about," He told them, more of a statement rather than a question, but once more, he was ignored by the dragons exchanging heated words. It seemed as if they were in a deep argument, as that was probably the only thing Althalos could glean from watching.
"How? You keep saying that, but you have nothing to back it up!"
"What is happening?"
A groan of complaint arose, and three heads, two serpentine and one human, turned to a grumpy-looking Fendrel, and Althalos said,"Better explain why you two keep shouting."
"What are you two talking about that you need to shout it to the heavens!" Fendrel berated the two dragons, who only growled in return. He grumbled more incoherent curses in his breath, then his eyes caught Althalos pinned. "And you, what have you done to end up in that position?"
"Long story, you wouldn't understand."
"Sleep, Fendrel, we will not do it again," Seraith told him, banishing any more further questions Fendrel spawned, however hard it might have been to explain. "We were just discussing private matters."
"Do not attempt to awake me again, or I'll gut you all," He whispered to them all, only making them feel amused by his absurd threat, Althalos the most amused one. Fendrel laid back down on his cot. He was out a few moments later.
"Release me, Miasmador."
The glaring contest continued, and Seraith was left out, thinking to herself, more worried than angry.
"Give me one reason why."
"Well, I'll put you to permanent sleep if you don't," Althalos said.
"I can burn you to ash."
"I can turn you to ash."
"I can eat you like I eat a pig, boy."
"I can slaughter you like a damned cow." Now, Althalos was scowling, and he wanted nothing more than to be freed.
To say nothing of the growing pain resonating in his mind, a clear warning to him, a mysterious conundrum to others.
Time is fleeting!
This snake won't release me!
The demon lord fell silent, obviously more angry than Althalos right about now.
Red streaks ran across his vision, blinding him for broken moments, and he found himself emanating a black aura, looking at Miasmador with even blacker eye.
"Release me, dragon, before my slave releases his full power," Althalos told Miasmador, who was too surprised at the change of his voice that he immediately did so.
"Wh-who are you?"
"Who do you think, lizard?" "Althalos" retorted, a smirk painting his expression, only increasing their surprise. "My slave has had enough of your antics, and frankly, so have I."
Althalos stood to his full height, staring at them without even showing the slightest sliver of hesitation. "You don't interrupt his plans, and you don't die, or better yet, don't even talk to him, or I will torture you until you've reached the precipice of your pathetic little life."
"Really, Merec?" Seraith told Althalos, now revealed to be possessed by none other than his Lord Master. "You would do that? We can just kill Althalos, and be done with it."
"Seraith!" Merec exclaimed, acting surprised, forming an "o" with his lips and the same widened eyes as before. "How I missed you!"
"What are you talking about, demon?"
Merec let out a chuckle, the black aura encasing Althalos turning into a clear ruby red. "History. You need to learn it, little lizard"
"I can crush with my claws, demon!"
"I can kill you with a snap of my fingers, dragon. I am a god, the Void, and I am the most powerful god to have ever lived on this pathetic excuse of a planet."
Althalos---Merec---now released long sigh, slumping to the ground, on to his knees. Miasmador saw the shadows dissipate, flying away from the possessed Shadow Champion.
A groan rose out from the night air, and Althalos looked at them, and Seraith felt the same fear that stung her centuries ago.
His eyes had undertaken another fantastically terrifying transformation.
From what was once a pair of black voidless pits that spelt fear to any living being was now a pair of eyes that gleamed with the color of blood, but....
Everything else was black.
Black.
It was like a red lantern shining through a dark cave, illuminating the interiors of the dark caverns.
Althalos's red globes were so obvious against the blackness that surrounded anything else from within his eyes.
"What are you two looking at now?"
They can only let out exclamations of surprise as Althalos stood to his full height, grabbing the scroll, the stone, and walking away, leaving his question unanswered.
Leaving two dragons questioning their own powers.
But to the Champion of Merec himself, only two things echoed over and over again.
When the Shadows speak,
the faithful shall follow.
Magnus itself trembles with each stride you take, my Champion. Do not waste more time!
When the Shadows speak,
the faithful shall follow.
Again, over and over again. It was the same chant, the same mantras.
When the Shadows speak,
the faithful shall follow.
The faithful shall always follow.
The shadows are rising, and the rise of dawn is all but a myth now, my Champion!
Merec's words spoke true, for a shockwaves ran through the land with each step Althalos took, and the young Champion's eyes only looked forward, towards Shardizar, towards his fate.
It is dawning.
But dawn itself will meet its death soon enough.