Her home was being invaded. She could sense the figures that lurked outside and the handful that had actually been let in. She let herself bristle when two cold hands palmed her handles, releasing a pulse of wave that blew the intruder to a nearby wall.
“Damn,” The voice was clearly male and there seemed to be shuffling before she felt him next to her resting place. “Let Phier know what happened. I’ll do it this time.”
“Sir,” The soldier started, but whatever he was going so say was drowned as she slammed another wave of power into them. She could sense that something was wrong when she was being picked up, despite the whirlwind of magic that had surrounded them. She knew that time was running out.
It was nothing more than a panic pulse and she could only hope that her siblings would be able to sense it. Her handler walked into the sunlight and she unleashed her last defiance. Light. White light mixed with silver erupted from her blades, ripping the man who held her apart. The arms went first, followed by his legs and torso, ending with the head. When the power died down, she knew no one would recognize him. But that had taken more out of her than she thought. She let her power fade, feeling the feeling of another pair of hands that had to belong to one of the other intruders. She sighed softly, letting her glow die and her power fled inside of her. She welcomed the shadows and fell into slumber.
How dare they?! How dare they invade and exhaust her into slumber. The light amber changed into a far darker shade, practically bleeding into blood amber as the weapon pulsed its anger. Two of them have been forced into awakenings now. He sent out another wave of energy before settling. It supposed it could wait till his owner came. And when he was claimed, the ones who dared disturb their rest would pay. Oh, they’d pay dearly.
Emerald became shadowed as he surged against the earthen bindings, eager to rip the ones who had disturbed his sister to pieces. It was frustrated with the lack of progress from when he was first hidden. And not only had his brother been forced awake but his sister now too? The emerald pulsed once last time before he gave into exhaustion. The intruders would meet their ends. That much he was sure of.
He had been in the sacred area for a couple of days, coming up with theories that connect the myth to the events that had occurring. Unfortunately, none of them made any sense as he scrapped each and every one. It was as he was brushing his hand against the cool metal of the Crystalline Scythe when it happened. A startled gasp left Ash’s throat as his form crashed into the walls of the holy ground.
He raised his eyes to the weapon, which was glowing a furious dark grey. It released another pulsing wave of power before the light dimmed, losing none of its anger. If anything, Ash could have sworn the weapon was seething. It was a little while later, that the young teen left the grounds moving to find his mentor to inform him of what he saw.
His brows were furrowed and his mind so preoccupied, that he missed the briefest of touches that brushed his mind.
Itel sighed his eyes staring blankly at the fire. It was two days since the Blade of Sorrows had lashed out; leaving the medical area with several patients that had been injured in the process. Most ended up with minor scratches and bruises, while others were unlucky and landed wrong when the burst of power had blown them off their feet, spraining ankles and dislocating shoulders. Siven and he had to be the unlucky ones
“You alright?” Siven inquired quietly from his perch beside him, his eyes catching the faraway look.
Itel was jolted from his thoughts, sparing a small smile at the elder duo staring at him. “I’m fine Siven. I am, really.”
Isidore snorted. “Right. And a sword didn’t slice your arm open on its own accord and Siven didn’t introduce his back to the trunk of tree so hard that it broke.” The duo grimaced, the younger wrapping a hand against his bandaged arms while the elder pressed a hand gently against his broken ribs. “Seriously kid, what’s on your mind?”
Itel bit his lip, speaking when he knew that neither of the two would drop the matter. “Just thinking about what happened with the relic.” The teen absently poked a piece of wood at the fire before tossing it in. “And I was thinking a myth.”
“You mean the myth regarding the ancients and the relics?” Itel nodded causing Isidore to continue. “Doesn’t the myth just say that the relics were created during the second shadow war?”
The younger teen frowned, his eyes glancing upwards to meet confused sapphire eyes. “It does. But there’s more to it than that.” The two elder loners shared a glance before turning their full attention to the ex-protector. “What? You didn’t know?”
Before their conversation could continue, a pulse of black and blue painted the clan grounds and all three of them could feel the anger that had been released. If asked, Itel couldn’t tell them how the trio got to the relic as quickly as they did. But one thing was clear to all those present; the Blade of Sorrows was angry. Itel shrugged helplessly when Ewald sent him a questioning stare.
“That rules that theory out,” Itel mumbled, letting Siven and Isidore catch the comment. “The relics are more than just gifts from the Blessed.”
The permeating anger continued to put everyone on edge well into the night and the early dawn.
Ezra furrowed his eyebrows as the cry pierced his being. When the dark brown haired male glanced at his companion, he knew that the teen could feel the torrent of emotions that had echoed within the pulse of power. He, himself, had winced at the fury from the other relics. But he could read the sensations that were sent. The Starlight Daggers had been stolen and fell into slumber after ripping the thief apart.
He knew he should feel something at the theft of the weapons that had been embedded Solerra’s powers, but he didn’t feel much of anything. The only thing he knew that he had to do what he could to ensure that Ziqla was ready. After all, they were the only ones who could stop the influx of shadows. And when that time came, the relics would be properly reclaimed and returned to their chosen wielders.
“You didn’t have to come you know.” Nilast murmured softly, his form flickering through the trees as his companion kept pace. “You know the consequences if you get caught right?”
Isidore snorted. “The same as they are for you.” Nilast gave him that one. “I know the rules of our old clan. They are the least merciful when it comes to traitors.”
Nilast hummed in agreement. He knew what their old clan did, far better than Isidore, after all he had been the one caught. He remembered the blood, the pain, the hunger and, most of all, the agony that could only come with dying slowly. He flinched; a hand brushing his ribcage touching the scar that he had received during the incident.
Isidore cringed as he watched his long time friend from the corner of his eyes. He knew what Nilast was thinking about. He had seen the state that the older male was in, and had all but pleaded with the former head of the Liaru Clan to help. By the time they had managed to break him free, Nilast was in a coma born from pain, exhaustion, hunger and blood loss.
“If it wasn’t for Palieh, I wouldn’t be back.” Nilast murmured softly, coming to a stop at the edge of the mountain, overlooking the clan grounds. Isidore drew even, both crouching in the foliage before peaking over the cliff.
What they expected to see was the quiet village that they grew up in; the village with small huts and smoke coming from the various fireplaces where all the cooking was generally done; children running around with streaks of lightning electrifying the air from the individuals that would become the village’s warriors and soldiers.
What they saw was charred ruins. Bodies scattered the grounds; the normally bright huts were darkened with ash and most had collapsed in on themselves. Blood darkened the ground in random spots with broken weapons littering the ground.
The duo didn’t even know it when they made it down the cliff, much less how. Their forms blurred, heading towards Nilast’s former house, ignoring everything dead in their path. The sound of something shifting was their only hint that someone was alive, prompting Isidore to break from the path that Nilast was taking.
It was a path that Nilast knew well, having taken it quite a few times as child. It was left at the corner, right after the old oak tree and another right at the worn cross-section. He cringed at the burned remains of the hut that he had grown up in and he could only guess that the bodies in front belonged to his parents. He slowly made his way around to the back, his heart suddenly in his throat as he spotted the still form of his younger sister.
Her body had gone stiff, a sign that the destruction and death was not recent. Her eyes were open, dried blood trailing along her lips. Her dress had been stained, a gaping hole in her stomach where some weapon had been tore through her. Nilast gently covered her eyes, swallowing thickly before standing. Lightning traced across his fingertips and with a flick of his wrist, the element slammed into the still form. Fire roared to life where his sister lay, her body a fuel to its flames.
It was only after the fire was well lit that he walked away from the remains of his old home. He traced back his steps, remembering the days that he had spent with his sister. He remembered that she had snuck out to see him when he was being tortured by the village elders. He remembered the tears that she had shed when she realized that he was a traitor to his village and his parents, believing that he had betrayed her as well. He chuckled humorlessly. He had never been able to convince her that he would never do anything to harm her. And he never would be able to.
“Nilast!” Isidore’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and the urgency caused the Loner to dash towards the location of his companion. It was when he was closer that he realized who Isidore was helping. .
“Dale?” The figure coughed weakly, before falling silent. The two loners shared a worried glance before digging him out completely, laying him gently on the ground.. Isidore quickly raised two fingers to the prone man’s neck, finding a weak pulse. “He’s alive Is.”
Nilast nodded before running a hand through his hair. “See if you can find something to tend to his wounds with. I’ll see if I can find anyone else who survived. I’ll head back and let Ewald know what we found here afterwards. When he’s awake bring him with you.”
Isidore nodded, standing up to search the remainders of the houses surrounding them. “What’s going on though Nil?” Nilast shrugged, at the question, prompting the younger male to continue. “First Itel, the Protectors and the Blade of Sorrows, then the demonstration of the relic and its powers as if it has a soul, and now this.”
Nilast sighed softly, his worried eyes meeting those of his juniors. “I don’t know Isidore. But for some reason, I think this is only the prelude to the storm.