The village elder sighed, his hands tightening over a wooden cane. His eyes slipped shut, remembering the face that the boy had worn before he had revealed crystal violet eyes. It was intriguing to say the least; the child’s reaction was not one anyone would put to a semi-burned village. As for his eyes, no one had seen violet eyes since Ziqla Eirthi.
“Head elder?” The old man’s eyes opened, his meeting the stare of a young teenager, his hands clenching the fabric of his shirt. “There’s something you should see.”
A gentle nod prompted the younger man to move forward, helping the elder walk towards the temple that sat in the village center. “It’s the Crystalline Scythe, sir. It’s glowing.”
The teen tripped over his own feet when he felt the elder freeze. “What was that son?”
“It’s glowing, elder,” the teenager repeated, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “It’s giving off a pale gray light.”
“Then it was him.” The old man paled, recalling an old legend. “Hurry, I need to see this.”
The teen blinked in surprise at the sudden shift, letting go of the man’s arm. “Sir, what did you mean by ‘It was him’?” The teenager was ignored as the elder of the duo started walking. “Sir?!”
The cave seemed dark. Darker than it ever had been before; but, if anyone had walked into it, they would have noticed that it was not black. Rather, it was a dark shade of amber emitting from the rowan bow that sat innocently on the center rock table. It remembered the battle from the days past like it was yesterday. It knew when the Crystalline Scythe began glowing and why it was glowing. The glow flickered, as if the bow itself was sighing. Perhaps this battle will be better than the last.
Dark green. The shadows underneath the earth had taken on a dark green hue, pulsing energy into the surrounding life. He surged against the confines of the earth, wanting nothing more than to get involved in the battle. The green faded as the earthen barrier stayed firm, the relic giving up for the time being. Maybe his siblings would sense where he is.
It was bright. It was far too bright for the steel to only be reflecting the sun. A pair of daggers, both about a forearm’s length, shook as it tried to reign in its excitement. She felt the awakening of her eldest siblings. She felt the awakening of her older sister; most of all, she felt the awakening of her youngest brother. It was only a matter of time before she chose a wielder. And the warrior would be no less skilled than her past wielder.
“The other clans are worried. They think we will go after the remaining relics that are being housed by them,” Nilast murmured. “In addition, they’re mobilizing against us. They wish to reclaim the Blade of Sorrows.”
Ewald sighed softly, his hand running through his hair. “I figured as much. Does Itel know?” Nilast’s head shook. “Good. Keep it that way. The last thing we need is for him to take the blade and leave.”
“That probably will happen if he found out about this,” Siele murmured, ice forming in the palms of his hands. “But the question is, what would be his reasoning?” The little crystals grew closer, forming a snowflake as he allowed the growth to continue. “His intentions still are not known, so I am unsure if he will run because he wants the relic, or if he would be trying to protect us.”
Ewald sighed, running a hand through his locks as his eyes closed. Nilast tilted his head against the pillar of the tent while Siele sat on the floor, ice coating the nearby ground. What could Itel’s intentions be? Would he really run away with the relic just to protect them? Or is he after something more than just the relic?
“Commander?” Isidore’s voice broke through the trio’s thoughts, bringing their attention to the warrior. “There’s something wrong with the Blade of Sorrows.”
The commander paled. “What do you mean, Isidore? Is Itel….”
“He’s still here. But you really should see this.” The trio sighed in relief before following the golden haired male out. Siele froze, Nilast tripped, and Ewald paled.
Siele was on his knees with Itel propped on his arm. On the other side of camp, Rhea had formed an ice wall, blocking a majority of the pulsing energy from reaching few children of the clan. Scattered in a random array were the rest of the clan, each picking themselves up to their feet. In the center of the array, the Blade of Sorrows hovered a good few feet off the ground, pulsing in shades of black and blue; the sheathe discarded a few feet away.
“What happened?” Nilast demanded, his eyes narrowing their most recent addition. Itel flinched, a hand pressing against a fresh wound. “Itel—“ Ewald’s hand on the white haired male’s shoulder halted any words that the ice user had. Ignoring the worried looks, the commander walked forward, his hands wrapping around the relic’s hilt.
The pulse grew in intensity, causing the clan member’s eyes snap shut. A stunned cry left Ewald’s throat as his form flew through the air, crashing into a nearby tree with a pained grunt. There was the sound of cracking as Rhea’s ice wall shattered, sending sharp shard into the scattered warriors. A wave of energy condensed and slammed into everyone standing, sending into various trees that dotted the camp grounds.
It was Siven who stumbled to his feet first, an arm against a nearby tree trunk to steady himself. “What was that?” His only response was pained grunts and a worried look from his commander.
It was well into dusk when the boy came to, his violet eyes flickering open to stare into the star filled sky. A hand absently rose to cover his eyes. “What happened?”
“That’s what I want to know.” The boy frowned, raising himself slowly off the bedroll. The teen turned his head until he saw a lean figure resting against the side of a rock, highlighted by the light of the fire. Why did that voice sound familiar? Why did he recognize him? “How do you feel?”
“Groggy?” The figure chuckled, pushing off his perch. “And my arm hurts.” A hand absently covered the white bandage. “Do I know you? Have we met?”
The stranger ran a hand through his dark brown hair, his midnight blue eyes taking in the confused violet. His mouth opened but he found no words. It was only when the boy flinched back as he approached that he spoke. “No. We’ve never met before. Do you have a name?” The boy shook his head. “How does Ziqla sound?” The boy blinked in confusion when the figure offered his gloved hand.
“Ziqla?” The figure nodded. “That’s my name now?” The figure shrugged.
“Up to you.” When the boy nodded, and grabbed the hand, the figure revealed a small smile, even if it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I’m Ezra. Ezra Cáel. It’s nice to meet you.”
Clan Corner: Liaru Clan
In a way, the Liaru clan is not really a clan. Beyond the commander, there really exists no command structure. The individuals come and go as they please, as long as they alert someone to their absence, and no form of treachery was taken. Of all clans, this is the most accepting, mainly since all members were exiled or left of their own accord.
They are hidden from the clans, and most know them only as a rumor. Very rarely do they show up; though they always keep an eye out, just in case some form of trouble stirs up.