~Valarendrik~
The glowering obsidian skies violently swirled above, causing powerful gales to chaotically crash and clash, creating roaring cyclones of unfathomable force. Biting bitter winds whipped through my long ebon hair, as we stood upon the pinnacle of the same great pestiskae tree I'd shoved Lucilia down now seemingly ages ago. The hour of the blood moon was drawing near, creating a deep sense of urgency within me. The orb rested within my unsteady hands, concealed by the enchanted cloth wrapped around it. I had been relieved to find it still hidden deep within a crevice on a distant seaside cliff, too high up for anyone without shadows to reach or notice.
Yet despite still having the orb, apprehension coursed through my deathly veins, mingling with the whirling paroxysm of grief, rage, and despair stirring within my heart more violent than the skies. Venom unwittingly leaked from my fangs, as I solemnly gazed out over the darkened sea of withered and rotten trees and the sharp and gnarled mountain range looming behind them. Every gloaming shade of the shadows lurked within the far-off gulches of screaming souls, while the long swooshing tail and tattered leather wings of a varetpa gracefully glided out from within one of the shapeless voids.
I wonder if that is the same varetpa Lucilia saw when she first arrived here...
William was crouched down and peeking over the slippery edge, his blue eyes glued to the mighty intertwined roots and intricately-woven gaunt branches making up the twisted tree. He dragged his pointer finger along the ebon bark, coating it with slime from the algea-like red moss. "Gross..." He softly murmured with a frown while observing his stained fingertip.
"I wouldn't linger too close to the edge if I were you." Azathoth warned while slicing open his palm with a hellish dagger, letting the thick crimson blood drip down his clawed hand as he worked to smear it in a large circle upon the uneven platform of tangled branches and bark. "These trees are very slippery and it's easy to fall off."
"Hmm, I don't know." Darrell hummed while peering over the edge himself. "It looks like it might be kinda fun."
"Oh, it's loads of fun... Until you're impaled on a rouge branch and left to be slowly devoured by the birds." The blade glinted as he re-sliced his palm, his flesh having already stitched itself back together.
Darrell shrugged as though he hadn't a care in the world and stepped away from the edge. "That might be fun too. Who knows?" He chuckled with morbid amusement.
I wanted to assure them that it was indeed very fun as long as you knew the right routes... or roots, I should say... Yet I could only seem to focus on the importance of our task. I needed my beloved Lucy back. With every passing moment, my soul became more and more sickened by our suffocating separation. The poison claws of consternation continued to mercilessly drag my thoughts down to the darkest trenches of my miserable mind, drowning them with my festering fears and looming loneliness. It was in her absence that I truly became aware of how my soul had by some unknown means bonded to her, and the emptiness I now felt was scathing.
My eyes fell to the orb in my hands with a look of doubt while I reflected on what had happened to Sagacor. Tears threatened to spill as I tightened my grip on it, determined not to let my mother take my wife and unborn child away from me as well. I was going to fight with everything I had to get them back. "Are you sure the circle will work?" I asked Azathoth just as he connected the red ring of demonic blood.
"It should. If not, I'll have to teleport us the fuck out of here real quick." He pulled a large sack of dried herbs and salt out of his enchanted pocket, then he began sprinkling it over the blood while murmuring some sort of hellish incantation.
"Isn't it like sacrilege for you to be casting a circle?" William placed his hands on his hips with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Really though? I thought you demons hated these kinds of circles?"
"We do. But considering the urgency of our predicament, and the fact that I'm not some worthless cockalorum using it in a pitiful attempt to enslave demons who are just minding their own damn business to force them to go out and do something the mage is too cowardly to do themselves, I'd say it's justified." His face contorted with a look of disgust as he spoke. "Besides, this isn't some shitty Solomon circle. It's to hide and conceal magic, not to cravenly keep things out." He pointed to the orb. "As long as the orb's power is used within it, it should be undetectable by the lloigors. The real question is whether or not this whole plan will actually work."
My crimson eyes fell to the orb once again, then I peered back up at the men aiding me with a feeling of immense gratitude. "I owe all of you much thanks for coming to my assistants with this, regardless of whether or not it works... I just truly hope our efforts will not be in vain." The crown softly twitched with my words.
"Babe please, don't even mention it." William swiped a rebellious lock of wind-tossed hair out of his face as some abyssal creature screeched off in the distance. "They've got Oliver. I want this rescue operation to work out just as much as you do."
"No need to thank me either. Not assisting was never an option. You are my best friend and I will always stand and fight by your side no matter the cost." Azathoth vaingloriously added while stuffing the herbs back into his pocket. His golden eyes loyally gleamed over at me and a smile played on his lips. The wind danced with his long dark hair, tossing it between his spiked wings.
"Eh, I had nothing better to do." Darrell shrugged with a smile.
The branches creaked beneath Azathoth's weight as he took a few steps out of the circle. "Alright, it's ready. Just remember to stay within the circle while you're casting the spell. Do you still have the necklace with you?" He asked with a pointed look, referring to the same necklace which had removed all other enchantments. He had brought it somewhere and had a new custom enchantment put over it that would allow me to understand and be understood by anyone within a certain radius, regardless of the language they spoke.
"I do. It's in my pocket." I nodded and stepped into the circle. "Holy shit..." The instant I entered, strange energy silently hummed and thrummed all around me like a continuous pulsating wave rising up from the ground. All of my hair began to stand on end and softly writhe, even the stubble on my cheeks felt oddly tingly. Darrell stepped into the circle with me, and judging by the way he suddenly froze in surprise, he likely felt the energy buzz as well. "Are you ready?" I asked him.
"As ready as I'll ever be." He flashed me a grin while moving to stand right beside me.
The wind howled and threatened to steal the enchanted cloth as it slipped away from the glossy surface of the orb like a flutter of ebon silk. It felt cool and slightly slippery while I delicately held it up in one hand, offering it to Darrell to touch as well. With a hint of hesitancy, he lifted his umber hand and gently placed it on top of the orb. Its smooth obsidian surface starkly contrasted the paler skin of his palm while tiny black electrical currents began dancing around our fingers. Together, we each held a palm out toward the forest, merging our powers with one another and greatly amplifying them far beyond our limits through the orb.
Immense power coursed through us like an invisible vortex as we each began to murmur our own unique incantations over the forest. My hair twisted wildly around my head, and the tips of Darrell's braids began to gently float upward as though he was underwater. With rigid discipline, I kept my focus on the forestland, willing my words to whisper to the forlorn souls hidden within the hollows. A whirlwind of energy swirled all around and exploded in a ripple across the vast expanse of the forest, as Darrell's necromantic abilities called forth to the deadened spirits, willing them to arise from their wooden prisons. Their sickly branches began to quiver and tremble while a cacophony of tormented groans and screams hauntingly poured from within the accursed trees.
My chest tightened with anticipation as a loud crack suddenly reverberated across the forest. The first hollow had splintered and split like the hatching of an egg, allowing the withered corpse within to unceremoniously stumble out from its ancient grasp. Tattered grey skin clung tightly to their frail skeletal form, their eyes still nothing more than fathomless pits of abyssal darkness. They moaned in anguish while pitifully dragging themselves across the roots and soil with feeble arms, heeding to Darrell's ensorcellment as though pulled by invisible chains.
Another loud crack followed, then another and another, until it became a deafening cacophony of trembling trees all across the dark forestlands. Flying creatures of all sorts began taking to the skies, screeching in uncertainty at the peculiar occurrence. Bark split away and aged wood ruptured while the groaning trunks twisted and released their wizened prisoners. Frail corpsen legs began to take their first shaky steps in many millennia, stumbling over labyrinthine roots and pointed rocks. Many could not find the strength to stand, weighted by the ancient armor most of them still adorned, making them weakly crawl and slither beneath the boughs. It truly was an extraordinary sight.
Darrell continued to summon them for nearly an hour, not once letting his wavering hand rest while the ancient army was spewn from within the hearts of the hollows. There was a look of determination etched upon his brow, and his soul radiated an air of honor and vigor. The obsidian skies swirled above, while he stoically stared down at the sea of undead below like a god of death summoning his disciples. I did not understand why he felt such a deeply rooted desire to assist me with this, but I was immensely grateful nonetheless.
The corpses writhed like worms within the soil while they obediently assembled below the pestiskae tree, yet great in numbers they were, reaching from the base of the tree all the way out to the center of the forest. Some had lower jaws not fully attached to their faces, making their black pits for mouths grotesquely dangle open. Others had missing limbs and fully rotted torsos, seeming to belong more in a boneyard rather than to be recruited to fight. Broken and tarnished black armor embellished random parts of their bodies, rarely finding a complete set within the crowd. Their dark hair was thin and stringy, matted with centuries of neglect and gunk. I frowned while gazing down at them, recalling how tangled my hair had been before Lucilia stumbled into my life.
A low devious chuckle rumbled from the crown. "This is futile... A fool's errand. See how weak and desiccated they are? See how they writhe and how they rot? You will never defeat Cerindier's army with these mindless and mangy men." The bones tapped at the top of my head. "...Pathetic."
Ignoring the crown, my crimson gaze met Darrell's dark brown eyes and we exchanged an unspoken understanding. Tension and uncertainty permeated the air around us as the first phase of our plan reached its conclusion. He silently nodded to me and then carefully removed his hand from the orb. Electric sparks hissed where his hand had been, ominously dancing upon the surface like the fraying and twisting of a rope. The many undead soldiers swayed and hissed as Darrell stepped out of the circle, no longer feeling the pull of his power.
"Oops, I-did-it-again-" William softly sang in an upbeat tune to himself while groovily bobbing his head side to side and filing his nails. He was wearing earbuds attached to his black bejeweled phone, something Pema had worn frequently. Azathoth was sitting on a branch, face in his hands, and elbows on his knees as if trying to drown out the world.
Darrell reached over and pulled the earbud from his right ear. "You're up." He patted William on the shoulder.
"Alright, watch and learn, everyone." William pulled the other earbud out, cracked his knuckles, and wiggled his fingers before stepping into the circle. "Woo! It's like there's aeriform cocaine in here!" He exclaimed with a dramatic shiver.
He slapped his pale well-manicured hand onto the orb without a second thought and held his other palm up to face the sea of corpses. His wavy hair twisted around his face while he closed his eyes in concentration and smiled. The energy I felt with him was drastically different than what I had felt with Darrell. The necromantic power had been deep and heavy feeling, while this felt boisterous and airy. A brilliant white light suddenly appeared within his palm and a gently humming warmth vibrated all around him and spilled out like a flood of unseen vibrancy across the land.
The corpses began to gasp and convulse, turning their rotted and sallow faces up towards the glowering sky. Anguished groans bled from their fathomless mouths like desperate benedictions for deliverance. Then like the spark of the sunrise, enchanted threads of bright golden light began to wind around their cracked bones and tattered flesh, glittering and swirling with lively elegance. Each corpse glowed with newfound lifeforce, setting the bleak and writhing forest agleam like the glow of insects within the tall wavering grass of earthly fields.
Holy shit... It's actually working!
My crimson eyes filled with awe and my heart danced with daunting anticipation, as I watched their flesh stitch back together into smooth ashen skin. Feeble limbs filled out with strong muscle and mass, no longer thin and skeletal like the brittle branches of the trees. Pointed teeth began to sprout within their hollow mouths and crimson irises formed like rings of rubies within their now hopeful eyes. Hair grew back thick and lustrous upon their scalps, growing to various lengths and styles. Some even had hair of the deepest burgundy, a trait I was unaware tenverians could have. Their ghastly cries began to sound more like living voices, echoing with overwhelming emotion and passion from their newfound freedom.
Tarnished armor of old clanked as the warrior men and women slowly came to their senses, reborn into this dead and forsaken world as their former selves, and no doubt full of utter confusion. Their hands trembled as they began to observe themselves, with black tears sprouting from some of their eyes. Knowing that I had to make haste, I nodded to William, signaling that it was time. He slowly removed his hand from the orb, then scrunched his brows as he observed it, seemingly as though using the orb had done something peculiar to him. I fought to rewrap the ebon cloth around its circular surface, the wind making it flutter away from where I wanted it.
Azathoth had stood back up and was staring at me from just outside the circle with an overjoyed grin. There was an unspoken sense of great excitement buzzing between us, layered with disbelief that the plan had actually worked. "Alright, phase one is complete. Now all you have to do is convince them to fight for you."
The crown twitched with my anxiety, self-doubt suddenly filling my spirit. I was the descendent of Dirnehkil, the man who betrayed all of tenveriankind and aided in the destruction of our world. The man who had murdered his own brother in cold blood just so he could call himself king of the undead. These men and women vehemently stood against what he did, fighting until their final dying breaths against the all-consuming darkness. How could they trust me knowing that traitorous blood filled my stagnant veins?
"They will never fight for someone like you..." The crown softly whispered. "You are the descendent of their adversary. A villain in their eyes."
I swallowed my venom, suffocating in the suspense of it all. "I will do my best to persuade them." I nodded to Azathoth and then jumped over the edge of the tree.
My boots glided over the slippery roots, while I dexterously slide halfway down the trunk. I didn't want to be too high above them, yet I doubted that I could truly make myself heard at ground level. After dodging a few coiled branches and red gossamer drapes, I used my shadows to steady myself on a thick slimy branch which tightly wrapped around the mighty trunk. Many of the soldiers took note and peered up at me, a few shouting in the ancient tongue.
The wind was relentless as I reached into my pocket and pulled the black pendant out, slipping it on over my head. I swooped my hair out from within the silver chain, suddenly understanding the ever-growing chorus of shouts and growls. Most being questions about who I was, how I revived them, and how long had it been. Oddly enough, they seemed to remember being trapped within the trees, something I figured might have been wiped from their minds.
I awkwardly cleared my throat, standing there like a stage-staggered fool. "Hello!" My orotund voice thundered through the air, truly having no idea where to even begin. They all quieted down and stared expectantly up at me, making my stomach fill with nerves. "I am Prince Valarendrik, crown prince of Tenveriel, the last remaining son of King Pargrail, Keeper of Shadows, Host to the Dark Spirit, and spawn of Dirnehkil's accursed bloodline. And I have re-awakened and given all of you new life in hopes that you may be willing to aid me in my fight against the tyrannical queen of Tenveriel and the oppression of the lloigors!"
"You kicked me in the face while I was still trapped in the tree!" Someone distantly shouted, making me wince.
"I apologize. I was unaware that you were still sentient and-" I tried to redeem myself but was interrupted.
"Why should we trust someone of Dirnehkil's bloodline!?" Another voice angrily rang out. "If anything, we should serve the world justice by killing you!" A bunch of agreeing shouts followed.
Oh, shit...
"You see... They will never fight for someone like you..." If a crown could smirk, it would've been.
I sucked in a useless breath, knowing that they had every right to desire vengeance against my bloodline. My hands may have been clean of the atrocities committed long ago, yet they still viewed me as an adversary by family relations. "Yes, it is true. I am the descendent of the great traitor who doomed this world to eternal darkness in exchange for immortality. I understand that I have no right to ask for your assistance, and I stand before you now, ready to atone for the sins of my wicked ancestor." My eyes darted around the crowd, desperately searching for any hints of forgiveness. Yet my voice remained loud and authoritative. "But I can not amend this on my own. Hsarohpem and the lloigors are a formidable and relentless force. Which is why I ask you now to join me in the fight against them and their darkness. Help me make right where my ancestor did wrong."
Obsidian armor loudly clanked as a huge tenverian man came walking further toward me, his strong jaw clenched and lifted with an air of nobility. A long burgundy ponytail whipped in the wind behind him, with his piercing crimson eyes fixated on mine. "I have watched and heard you for many centuries, Prince Valarendrik. I have seen you single-handedly slay hundreds of those infected with the darkness and seen your many endeavors with the horned creature. I have been a mute witness while you pleasured yourself to questionable means..." He lifted an arched brow as his deep and gravelly voice continued. "Why is it that you choose now of all times to pursue this fight?"
Shoving aside my mild embarrassment, I felt uncertain about whether my true motivation would deter them or not. However, if I was going to potentially lead them into battle, then I had to be completely honest. "My pregnant wife has been taken hostage by my mother, the tenverian queen, and if Hsarohpem gets his claws on the next tenverian heir, then he will only grow stronger and this madness will only continue."
My words seemed to only intrigue him further. "Your personal quest to retrieve your wife is not reason enough for us to fight. We owe you no loyalty." The crown twitched with my anxiety as he spoke, a wave of dread washing over my soul. "However, I am curious about how such a thing will strengthen the great lloigor?"
Oh right... It's not like they've witnessed what Hsarohpem has been doing to the royal bloodline...
"Hsarohpem has been feeding on the empowered souls of the royal bloodline. And he intends to feed on my own and my child's at first chance. That is all tenverians are to the lloigors and likely the only reason why the kingdom of Tenveriel still stands. We have become nothing more than a food source, kept in the dark about their true intentions. If ever you intend to live as free men and women in this world, then you must fight! And trust me, it is ideal to strike now while he has been starved of my soul for so long!"
The wind hauntingly howled as I eagerly awaited his reply. He seemed to be considering what I'd said, taking his sweet time to think it over while others murmured in the background. I glanced up the tree, finding William, Azathoth, and Darrell all peeking over the edge. William gave me an encouraging thumbs-up, then nearly slipped off but was saved by Azathoth who yanked him back up. None of them could understand what the tenverian army was speaking about, otherwise I had no doubts that they'd be down here helping me negotiate.
My impatience got the better of me as my gaze returned to the man I'd been conversing with. "Hsarohpem trapped and imprisoned all of you within the trees of the forest, leaving you to eternally wither and rot! He annihilated your kingdoms and cursed anyone who would not submit with eternal death and insanity! He murdered this world and cast his dark clouds over our land! Do your souls not cry out for justice!? Do you intend to live the rest of your lives hiding in the shadows!?" I shouted with vehemence and began aggressively pacing back and forth. "Traitorous blood may dwell within my veins, but believe me, I am not your enemy! I have set you free from your wooden prisons and I offer you a chance at redemption! A chance for vengeance! And I will fight this beast regardless of whether you join me or not!" The wind was deafening as it blustered through the soughing trees, the ghosts of my words echoing all around.
The man unsheathed an aged sword from his waist, the tarnished metal hissing as his clawed hand vaingloriously held it up to the sky. "My army and I swore an oath long ago to fight against the all-consuming darkness." His voice boomed for all to hear, making me certain that this man was some sort of general. "And that oath still stands! We will oppose Hsarohpem one last time! We will follow you into battle, Prince Valarendrik, and we will fight to reclaim our world!"
Hope began to overflow in my chest as more weapons were raised to the sky in congruence. My crimson eyes excitedly darted all around as each one was lifted, accompanied by a tumultuous uproar of shouts and praises. The dark sky thundered as the grandeur of a thousand lifted swords was splayed across the land before me.
Their passionate voices bellowed throughout the abyss, carried upon the winds of war.