Destiny

[Cyrus the virus]

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The undead army moved in unison, a crawling mass of flesh on a dark soiled ground. Luc watched from far above, the wind blowing cold against his body, his arms crossed over his chest and his teeth chattering in nervous fear. He had always worked toward this one, singular day. It was his destiny to rule Eluriand, the city he was born in, and now was his time to make the move - the mage couldn't help but be scared.

Xem'zûnd’s forces were not yet at the city. Luc’s time to gather his nerve and put his plan into motion was coming, a thought that had him checking his supplies to make sure everything was prepared. He’d gone through the plan in his mind countless times, but he did so again, mentally countering every defense he knew Velicë Arta would present.

He realized, then, that he had planned for everything. Every potential surprise, every magical ward he knew of and every Bladeslinger’s song magic. Luc had been a student in Istien, after all, but his time there was spent more on learning what each song did rather than how to use them. For every ward he had a counterspell, and for every surprise he had a solution. Now he needed to wait.

Like an arrow in the sky, Luc suddenly dipped down and into a fast soar, moving quickly to a sole hill south of Eluriand, just below the center of Raiaera. The city was massive, with glass spires and towers that overlooked the land. As far as Luc knew, he was more than far enough away to be out of their sight, for it was only with his Truesight spell that he could see so far into the city anyway.

Here, he sat among dancing blades of green grass. Grass that he could soon claim to own, he realized, and the mage’s heart raced. He knew that once he was in Eluriand and beginning his own personal siege, his nerves would settle; until then, he struggled to maintain steady breath.

For months he’d been under the earth, studying the many tomes and scrolls he had gathered over the years. With a fire and all the food and water in the universe, Luc’s time melted away like wax from a long candle. He was thirty-three now, armed with knowledge that made him a more dynamic and fearsome man then ever before. This was the perfect age, the perfect time, to claim the elven land. The haughty elves would kneel to him, the ultimate satisfaction in return for a youth where he had been ridiculed and abused.

Luc caught himself salivating, wiped his mouth. Anxiously he peered over at Eluriand once more, watching as the undead army marched on. He went through the plan in his head once more.

[Abomination]

Viral found himself on Concordia, in a suspiciously barren field with trees all around. The ground seemed completely unfit for all manner of life, yet the trees grew to great heights all around this circular plot of sand, which was about as wide as house. This was the location that Luc told him about, the "portal" into that elven stronghold. For something so important, it seemed awfully vacant. Viral figured that Luc knew everything, so naturally he would know of something as extremely obscure as this.

He thought over the plan assigned to him by his master once more: When Luc uses his Whisper on him, he is to enter the portal.. somehow.. and try to remain undetected. It was clear to him that Luc was planning to use Viral's assimilation abilities to procure information out of those elves, or perhaps a more sinister goal, but as of now he was at a loss. He simply had to obey, and he was content in doing so.

[Cyrus the virus]

Looking out from the top of the guardtower to the West of Eluriand's Grand Gate, elven sentries could see all the way to Xem'zûnd's front lines, a mere blur on the horizon even for those with such keen vision. A longbow slung over the shoulder of each the two elves keeping watch, both could hear movement below as preparations were being made to meet the undead charge.

Suddenly they shivered in unison, an unnaturally chill breeze passing through them. Their expressions mirroring one another, the elves looked to each other and chuckled nervously, the ominous wind hammering home the severity of the battle to come.

Luc, meanwhile, whisked back down toward ground level, his gaseous form moving as swifty a wind current could. The area between Eluriand's outer and inner walls was the city itself, a collection of beautiful creatures, architecture and culture, all of which held an interest to the mage. The streets were mostly empty, the general populous in some location Luc knew not about in anticipation of the undead attack.

He bypassed the city, approaching the Bladeslingers' Barracks. Before he got close enough to activate a ward he knew was there - a clever one designed to knock every enchantment off of a non-elf invader if they got close enough - Luc's windy self shifted to his right and toward the Northeast, where the school of Lissilin sat.

He whisked into a crack in the door, so simple was entry for the mage, and paused, hovering above the ground like the calm eye of a hurricane. Lissilin was the school for healing magic, or some such garbage, but more importantly it was the least defended by wards. It had wards, of course, but more of them dealt with undead and evil than with disenchanting, the precise type of trap Luc needed to avoid if he wanted to succeed.

He couldn't Windwalk his way through this school, this fortress. A glyph midway up the master staircase would break him from the transportation spell, as the defense was created to disable invisibility, illusions and other useful things. A necessary issue to deal with, for Luc could not reach the Inner City without passing one. The elves were well fortified.

To make matters worse, a pair of elven defenders stood at the top of the staircase, ever vigilant in their watch. He could Disenchant the glyph, but that would mean bringing himself directly before the elves atop the staircase and any others who would happen to be nearby.

Luc examined the inside of the building, a rectangular structure filled with students and teachers alike, with long drapes of lavender silk dipping from the high ceiling. He slid under a doorway and into an empty room, heading behind a high statue before returning to his solid form. He exhaled, alone in the darkness of a room in Lissilin, and used his Whisper spell.

"Hear me well, Virus," he sent. "If you've obeyed well, you're before the portal now. When my communication ends, you will step through it and be transported, if my research is correct, somewhere within Lissilin. I'm in a room near the entrance from the Outer City, and you should be upstairs. I need you to create a diversion however you can, to get two guards at the top of the stairs to leave their post, for just a moment. But be careful."

The mage revealed a parchment from beneath his shirt, opened it and examined the diagrams he had drawn, along with the details of wards and the outline of the Inner City. "That's all," he finished, as the spell ended. He truly hoped that his doppelganger could do as he was instructed, and without getting caught. It was not yet time for Luc to risk the copy's strange life.

[Abomination]

Stepping through the middle of the circular patch of barren land, Viral suddenly found himself in an old room that was pitch black. Within moments, dark lavender flames appeared at either side of him, illuminating a room with cracked surfaces, cobwebs, and destroyed furniture strewn about. According to Luc, he was now somewhere in Lissilin, or at least that's what he called it. He was in a building, although he did not know it was a school yet. Walking to the singular door, he turned the knob but found that the door wouldn't open. His internal logic deciphered that in order to find a staircase, he would need to be outside this room, so he braced himself and then slammed his body into the door, causing the rotten wood boards on the other side to burst and the door to finally open. Looking around desperately, he saw that no one was around to witness the sudden outburst from a room boarded away for centuries.

While he had been told about Eluriand before, Luc had not actually described the place to him, nor did he have any specific maps of the inside. In short, Viral was lost, but he knew that he had to go up. The emptiness of the current hallway he occupied was odd. The place was very well kept outside of that forgotten room, and it felt like people were here not long ago. Then, the daze from jumping through the ancient portal wore off, and his sixth sense of detection kicked in. He suddenly felt the presence of many powerful beings everywhere, and it almost overwhelmed him. This place seemed much more dangerous than anywhere he's ever been before, and Luc was the one who sent him here. If it was not for that slavery spell, he would've never agreed to this, well not unless it was somehow described to be the safest place in Althanas, where survival was optimal.

He walked down the hall carefully. Something inside him was concerned that because he was weaponless from his encounter in The Citadel, he wouldn't be able to deal with the task given to him, but he did not have the capacity to think about such things. Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps. The acute hearing of the elven guards on top of the staircase picked up the sound of the door opening and the wooden boards breaking, and they were running towards Viral. Panicking, he ran back towards said door, and ran inside it, closing the door. His fear took over, and he tried to exit through the portal again. After all, he had completed his mission, and thus was no longer compelled to endanger his life. Yet, nothing happened when he went through the location that he entered at. He could only look back at the door in horror as the knob was turning.

[Cyrus the virus]

Time passed quickly, until Luc was sure that enough minutes had gone by. Viral hadn't returned his Whisper, lacking the ability to cast the spell, but the mage knew it had gotten through. They always did.

He passed through the small, dark room, his cape whisking behind him like a stalking shadow. He reached the far wall, next to the door that led back to the main hall, and here he whispered the words to his Ghost spell. A creamy translucence came over him, and his form faded so that he was nearly invisible to the naked eye. He moved, which made him significantly easier to see, but there was noone about to witness Luc's peek as he stuck his head through the very wall.

Thankfully, none of the elves in the hall happened to be looking in his direction. His heart racing in his throat, Luc stepped into the hall and allowed himself to drift below the ground, floating dangerously toward the base of the stairs. Looking up, he could see that the guards were gone. Whatever Viral had done, he'd done it well enough.

Luc swept up under the stairs, stopping near-midway when he approached the ward. A green glyph magically infused into the stone, cleverly manipulated to look like a harmless decoration, the magic pulsated subtly. He spoke a single, archaic word and held out his insubstantial hand, disenchanting the ward and making it naught but a dull inscription in the stair.

He looked about, his ghostly shoulders just clearing the crest of the physical world's stairs. Still no elves had spotted him, so he held his trump in case he'd need it later.

The spirit-formed Luc went completely underground then, moving upward. He rose to take an inventory of his position and which way he needed to go, his head peering out from floor-level. It was silent under the floor, but now he could see and hear the movement of elves as they ran past, oblivious to his presence. Without even thinking, he knew they were going for his copy.

As much as he wanted to pursue his current endeavor, Luc knew Viral would become important in the future, especially if the mage's conquest for Eluriand was unsuccessful. He followed the elves, dipping back underground just before they reached the door - doing so he entered before them, quickly got his bearings and floated up to his copy, reverting to his normal form.

He cursed, knowing the only way to get his ally out of the room safely was to use his second Windwalk, which he'd wanted to reserve for escape in case the situation deteriorated. "You could have been more discreet," he sneered, though he knew he hadn't so much as suggested such a thing.

In the knick of time, Luc grabbed Viral's shirt and enacted the spell, turning them both into wind just as the elves burst through the door. The darkness of the room became light to his perspective, everything glowing with an eerie, otherworldly vibration. They whisked past the elves and across the hall, slipping under the crack of the door. This room was no storage, no dark and uninhabited safe haven. It was vast and intricate, with desks, chairs and a plethora of magical devices, flasks and books. One elf occupied the room, though Luc could not take the time to worry himself.

The pair flew past it all and under another door that led to another narrow hall, devoid of any kind of population. Here they resumed their physical state, Luc immediately getting his bearings since he was so used to the strange form of travel.

He rummaged through a pouch in his cape, revealing a blue wand that looked like nothing more than a stick. "Use this to adopt a disguise, Viral," he said, eyes dancing about in nervous anticipation. "Imagine yourself an elf, and do your best to hold that mental image. When you've done that, turn the wand upon yourself and speak the command phrase."

Luc forced the wand into the copy's hand, in too much of a hurry to allow him a question. "The phrase is mellon en mellonamin. Be quick, as I need to disguise myself as well."

He considered his course for a moment, the breeze drifting lazily in from a nearby window. The weather reflected the chaos of the day not at all.

"Alright. Here we split up once more," he said as he held out his hand to receive the wand. "I will adopt my disguise and head for Velice Arta. I should be able to make it to the top of the center spire without much difficulty, but reaching the most vital places with be impossible as things stand. There is too much security there, too many elves who will know my disguise simply by the way I walk."

"You will go ahead of me toward Velice Arta, but instead of making your way to the palace, find the Maeryun Inn by the exit of this school. It's a large building with windows of black glass, impossible to miss. Within you'll find a man with low-hanging hair of stark white, waiting for you. His name is Sasarai. Simply tell him your or my name, and he'll be able to project a spell from himself unto me, so I may proceed where I may not without his help."

He breathed, unaware of whether or not he had covered everything. There was no time for him to go over it all again, he knew, so Luc merely led Viral toward the open window. He wondered if he should Enslave the copy once more, to ensure obedience, but there was simply no time to do so and then go over the plan once more.

"I'll create a wind current to carry you down the side of the building," he said, looking out. They were facing West, toward nothing but open space and seemingly no guards. Moreover, they were a mere two stories up. "Do what I've asked you, and you'll have all you need for the rest of your existence."

Of course, Luc had no idea what that was. He didn't particularly care at that precise moment, knowing that if the strange homunculus was still alive only because it was such a benefit to him. When Eluriand was his, Luc sincerely doubted that Viral would be so important.

[Abomination]

Viral merely nodded, a reliable confirmation of his understanding. If there were a problem, his head would tilt to the side with a perplexed expression. He did not understand the details of the plan, but things like 'go to' and 'talk to' were easy to comprehend. In terms of disguising himself, Viral attempted as best he could to follow the instruction. He couldn't for the life of him understand the blue stick he was holding.

Closing his eyes to find the mental picture of an elf, he chanted, "mellon en mellonamin."

When he opened his eyes, he found that his appearance had changed once more. His ears were long and sharp; decisively elven, his clothes had changed a white robe that was tied around the center, and a green vest underneath with gray pants. His nose became sharper, and his eyes gained a bright glossiness. He looked somewhat like a scholar, although the sharpness of his teeth remained unchanged. Luckily for him, he did not open his mouth very often. The teeth were an oddity, because the wand should've transformed him completely, but in actuality it was his own Homunculus abilities that caused most of the change. When he thought of an elf, he could not find a mental picture except for the portrait in the hallway of an old, robed elf, so he could not hold a mental image. He would later discover that he had the ability to willfully shapeshift his appearance, but not now. Nonetheless, he looked relatively elfy.

He left the wand on a desk and let Luc's spell carry him down into the field. Looking around after landing, he found he had landed undetected and proceeded to walk towards Velice Arta. Now that he was outside, his eyes were exposed to the various sights of the city, and he absorbed them in and pinpointed their relation to the map he was shown a few days ago. Using that information, he soon found a mental image of the map superimposed over his view, and he accurately guided himself towards the inn. It was indeed a building with black glass windows, and he found that another powerful presence was inside. Stepping inside, he casually wandered to a nearby empty table, but stopped when he saw a man that met the description he was given. He walked over to the table he was sitting at, and pulled out a chair for himself, sitting down and gaining the man's attention.

"Viral," he uttered, with his voice low enough so that only this man could hear, his sharp teeth showing only for a moment to him.