The Redemption of Tylermande

(closed to Shinsou and Flamebird/Felicity)

The road before him was littered with small rocks and pits, most of which the great beast Attila strode over as if they were bits of dust and seams of well fit hardwoods. The wide black back of the muscular steed swung a bit side to side, tilting the seasoned sorcerer atop him about while steadily moving forward. Attila was no pony anymore, but seemed not to have aged a day in the years where the stubborn animal had dutifully served the crotchety old bastard in the saddle. As the heat gently lay into the tandem, the rider noticed a thick glob of saliva form at the rein and swing wildly before falling to the road in a disgusting plop.

“Enough, boy. Grab some shade and water.”

Storm Veritas somewhat gingerly dismounted his equine friend, rubbing the thick, coarse hair along the jawbone as he led the tired horse to a thick maple tree. He could barely pour water from his saddlebag to the pail before Atilla dove in, greedily pulling the water in a lapping process that looked impossible considering the very geometry of the thing.

Quite the life, my boy. Walk, eat, shit, sleep, and screw. Seize the day.

The wizard drank from his own bottle as he rested, rubbing the sore seat that had been bounced around for a few hours. It wasn’t so long ago that his life was ultimately no different than the one he lovingly mocked his horse for; times of carefree hedonism where his ability to grift and steal easily bankrolled a lifestyle where the bills were as simple as food, whiskey and whores. It was a time before he had found purpose.

A time before the Brotherhood.

His partnership with Shinsou Vaan Osiris had led to a great sense of belonging in the greater world. He had a grand plan, goals, and a central vision for a united, free Corone that was still in play. The failed siege of Radasanth had proven a brutal setback; he had lost many good men in this life’s ultimate goal. They hadn’t died in vain, he surmised, and he would dedicate his life to ensuring the continent was unified under the Brotherhood’s Flag.

A mission. A purpose. The aging wizard continued to pontificate as he ripped a few bites of dried meat from his satchel, watching as Attila absent-mindedly grazed on the tall grass. The sweet late-summer air welcomed him here as dusk approached, and the shadows grew long as he considered his path.

Recently, a great betrayal had turned this entire “mission” on its head. Arius Mephisto had conspired with a plan to assassinate both Storm and Shinsou, luring them to the docks in their hometown of Tylermande to strike in broad daylight. Shinsou nearly died, and in the chase Arius had proven historically lethal. Arius would die, but Tylermande had also been stricken by the assault, left damaged and short of goods. Veritas had set out south to ask for assistance, in the last town he wanted to head. Further, Shinsou was there again, and had asked for help. The Telgradian was literally the only person upon Althanas that could call in such a favor.

”Fucking Whitevale. Why is he in Whitevale? Why does Whitevale have to have the best building supplies outside of Radasanth? The only place in the world that might hate me more than Radasanth does.”

The great black eye of Attila offered no consideration for the question, choosing instead to relieve himself in a mighty pile by the thick, peeling bark of the large tree. Whitevale had been the Brotherhood’s first conquest; a tremendous coup that ended in misery as an insurrection led to fire and death. He had helped to quell the larger danger to the city, but appreciation was lost as the duo was inextricably tied to stress, strife, and harm. To Attila, it meant nothing more than poorly prepared food and an irritated master. The electromancer smiled, on a knee as he bundled a few handfuls of felled twigs to use for kindling. Storm continued to work, lazily laying out his tent components and eyeing the skies for cloud cover. They would be dry tonight; Whitevale would be happy to rain on his parade in the morning.

Quote:

---

Two days prior

---

The Telgradian sighed as he folded the letter into quarters, slipped it into an envelope and pressed the back with the Brotherhood’s wax seal. One hand reached up to offer the memo to a waiting courier, who darted to his side without hesitation.

“Storm Veritas, as quickly as you can.”

The messenger was gone before Shinsou had the time to turn around.

In a nearby ashtray, the singed remnants of a document lay in charred repose. Ghost white, the co-commander of the Brotherhood ignored the tired aches in his muscles and rose to his feet, emerging into the dying twilight of a corridor from the cramped study in which he had ensconced himself an hour earlier. The letter he had received had shaken his world to its core, but he could share it with no-one, save Veritas. Even the ever-present blanket of cloud over him since Arius’s betrayal hadn’t darkened his mood like this before.

No. This felt like the onset of night itself.

What am I going to do…?

His head felt light through sickness. As he passed a window, deep in thought, he caught his reflection for long enough to notice how much he had weathered. The long days of travel and battle had begun to show on his form once again; creases in his forehead, bags under his eyes and his white coat was streaked with marks. It felt so long ago now that he had last been happy.

You have to kill this cunt, now. he reminded himself ruefully. He knew that he needed friends, but friends were short in supply. As soon as he left behind the town of Whitevale, he would not have the luxury of a friendly face every evening. The only people who could stand to be anywhere near him at the moment were Storm Veritas, who was often on official Brotherhood business elsewhere, Felicity Rhyolite, who was often giving him radiation sickness, or Philomel van der Aart, who was still torn about him at the moment. Through the window, the ivory coloured stone buildings of the Brotherhood complex loomed in a mantle of shadows as Shinsou gathered his belongings from his personal quarters a couple of doors down from the study. Suddenly, behind him, there was the creaking of a light, rhythmic tread on the wood. Raine, he decided after only a moment’s thought.

The thought warmed his soul for a moment, before it sent his mind into another spiralling tangent.

“Who’s Canen?”

Too late. His thoughts faltered as the beautiful redhead, dressed in her armoured Gilded Quint battle corset, invited herself in as she always did.

“So you’ve read my personal correspondence?” Shinsou muttered darkly, clearly annoyed, “That was marked Private and Confidential. Anyway, why do you care?”

“I’m your bodyguard,” the woman teased, much to the Telgradian’s chagrin. “I need to know about any threats to your safety.”

“Durandel takes care of my security, actually. Who appointed you my bodyguard, exactly?” For not the first time, Shinsou repeated to Raine his official refusal of her services. It was absolutely pointless, though, seeing as the Telgradian’s deal with the Lily and the Assembly to keep him away from Terrinore was to have Raine by his side, but he thought it necessary to remind her of this every single day. Secretly, though, Osiris was warming to her.

“So, who is he?” She pressed him again, relentless in her pursuit of a straight answer. He sighed, knowing that he was only delaying the inevitable.

“…I don’t really know, honestly…” The response was downbeat, and Raine knew he was telling the truth, “…but I don't think he is lying. I need to talk to him. Storm will be here soon, as will Felicity. Don’t say a fucking word to anyone, Raine, pl-”

“I won’t,” Raine nodded, coming closer to him. She put a hand tenderly on his shoulder. “I won’t, ok?”

Shinsou nodded solemnly. There was a moment’s pause, before he walked towards the door. He stopped short, his back to her as the white, frayed edges of his coat scraped the frame.

“If this is true, this could be bigger than anything we've faced before. I just want to establish the facts.”

The words shocked Raine out of her stupor, but before she could say anything to him, Shinsou’s tread had taken him through the door and out of the corridor.

The cold winter like climate was unyielding. The weak corpse of a tree gave little protection from the wind as she leaned against it, sweating.

Honestly, getting away was nice.

Felicity loathed thinking of herself as a slacker, irresponsible, yet she needed this. Away from being a general, away from her office, away from Hayate, away from facing all the internal problems that had built up a mountain in front of her. Here, she was training. Just training. No gimmicks, no dragons, no nuclear power. Just training.

Her katana lay on the dirt infested ground. Felicity lifted a jug and allowed water to fall into her mouth. It took nothing to cool down after working out; the bitter weather took care of that. As she rested after hours of practicing form, she saw a flash of white from the corner of her green eyes.

She turned to see an own land atop one of the many cut branches of the dead tree. Felicity smiled, this was no regular bird. "Gwenael."

A flash of light covered the fowl in a bathing cloak. Felicity's magic affinity sparked as the shape of the being changed. It grew, developed limbs... Soon enough, the magic faded. In front of her way a young man. He appeared around her age. The perfect build, long white hair. Amber eyes glimmered as talon feet clunked on the permafrost ground. His white wings fluttered and twitched.

The entity bent down and picked up one of the branches. Precisely cut, light and rotted. "I take it you are fitting in well."

Felicity looked ahead again. Allowing the harsh wind to blow her red hair in her face, she took time to look back. "A dragon ruined everybody's day. Hayate picked a fight with me. I'm a general with no idea how to be one. And, my office is still wrecked from that fight Hayate and I had."

Gwenael raised as eyebrow as he tossed the wood away. He stepped forward, leaving marks in the ground, and picked up the katana. The blade was expertly forged, made of powerful prevalida. He made a cut in the air, testing the sound of the swing with positive results.

Felicity eyed the blade and blinked. She started thinking again. "I know why I can't outrun my past now though. And people... they... actually respect me here." She lowered her head. Her vision of the long, winding landscape was blocked by her long hair.

Gwenael spoke up, still testing the sword. "No situation is perfect. All walks have a mixture of ups and downs."

Felicity blinked.

Gwenael continued, lowering the sword. "Do not despair over the setbacks. This is the best path for you."

Felicity scoffed, looking up at him. She smiled as he gently lowered the blade to the ground in front of her. She spoke, "I know it is. And how can I turn back now?"

Suddenly a distant toll could be heard. Felicity turned her head to the city in the horizon. From behind the walls, the church chapel bell rang. It was noon.

Felicity bent over and reached for the sword, getting ready to stand up. "I need to get back."

"Not to join the Ethereal Sway service I hope." Gwenael retorted in amusement.

Felicity chuckled, eyeing him with a playful challenge. "Give me a good reason to follow those extremists instead of the Thayne." She picked up her supplies and darted down the hill. Next to a puddle, a white mare freely drank. "Come on, Chamomile! Back to town!"

Gwenael smiled as she tried to take control of the rather stubborn horse. As he watched her, the Lesser Thayne's wings curled in delight. "She shall be just fine."

Whitevale had been rebuilt, a wooden-walled city that spoke from a single gated mouth to the north. It was light security when the aging electromancer arrived, and portended to be a simple affair. The gates of Whitevale opened wide, the creaking metal hinges squealing in protest to the quickly advancing winter. Had it really only been a day ago that he felt the warmth of the sun on his horse? Today, the sky was that grey-blue that echoed an unmistakable chill in the air, and some of the grass that skirted the road still wore the glisten of breaking frost.

Winter comes for us all, I’m afraid.

The face of Storm was commonly clouded in smoke, but this morning it was the simple condensation of his warm breath in the dry air. Snarling atop his great black horse, the gatekeepers stared at him as though he were the rider of the pale horse.

…and death follows with me.

The wizard was the face of calamity here, and it wasn’t so long ago. Still, the guards wearing tattered armor that looked worn and weathered actually weren’t glowering at Storm Veritas, but rather distasteful at another visitor. Storm could have been anyone here, and it would have meant nothing more or less to these men.

“Shinsou.” Storm peered through his squinted eyes, closed by the long road and early morning. The guard first simply crossed his arms, smirking defiantly. The burly, bearded man spat a mouthful of fresh smelling tobacco into the hay at the magician’s feet before he spoke.

“What of it? That’s not the password today, old man.”

The cold blue eyes of the mounted adventurer flashed white as he felt rage bubble over him. Storm was too experienced to expect the type of boundless gratitude the insolent shit of a guard should have offered. He knew better than to wait on a genuflection and the washing of his feet this fat fool should have offered. Hell, he could understand some degree of anger towards the wizard, who had led to chaos before helping save this God-forsaken town from its own demise. What was simply not acceptable, however, was ignorance. The desire to destroy the man with a savage burst of clean smelling ozone and electric anger hit him like a wave.

Attila brayed, rearing slightly at the open gate as he sensed his master’s fury. Two spearmen approached the horse, their weapons raised at the great steed with fear at the sudden arousal.

Nope, not fucking today.

With a wave of his hand, the metal spear-tips were pulled out of the hands of the guardsmen, volunteers who leapt back at the seemingly possessed weapons. Storm raised his hands, gently lifting the spears over the thick wooden palisade wall and releasing them, hearing the lifeless rattle-clang of the polearms some fifteen feet away. The big bearded fat one had approached, his delicious chain mail shirt beckoning while stretched across his substantive belt.

“Enough.” Storm pushed his hand out once more, pulsing electromagnetic radiation at the shirt.

The tobacco-spewing guardsman froze as he felt his shirt stop moving, and then his own vestment pulled him up from the earth. Confused and terrified, he opened his hands and showed his palms wide from his body, far too late for any sign of peace. The other two simply stepped back, their backs pressed firmly against the stacked timbers behind them. Slowly, the links of chain began to fold back over themselves, as Veritas constricted the metal with incredible ease. He could feel the man’s chest as the air between his fingers, and could as easily collapse the metal through the fool’s flesh as a child could squeeze a ripe banana between his fingertips.

“Tell him the devil isn’t dead, and he’s come back to save his sorry ass again.” Opening his hand, Storm released his spell, allowing the man to fall helplessly three feet to the earth. Flabbergasted and terrified, the guard kicked his feet furiously into the earth, driving his body backwards as he desperately scrambled to tear away his armor.

And the man would tell him where to go. And the man would never forget the name Storm Veritas.

The progression of the sun creeping across the sky told Shinsou it had been roughly an hour since he had entered his quarters. The troubled man had done little else other than stare blankly at the town over the rim of the Brotherhood headquarters perimeter fence, thinking only about one thing. It was the same thing that had infuriated the Telgradian for the past few weeks, and that was that the traitor Arius Mephisto still drew breath, despite his best efforts. The most progress they had made amounted to a dead frost dragon and some re-plastering in Whitevale, but other than that there was very little to show for the hunt. Just as Shinsou was starting to calm down and accept that he and the Brotherhood might be in this very personal war for the long haul, a letter landed with him. The contents of that letter, if true…

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door that stirred Osiris from his thoughts. Sighing, the Telgradian pulled the curtains to and turned away.

“Yes?”

“It’s Durandel”, the elf’s familiar Raiaeran accent permeated the air, “Your guest has arrived.”

“Show him in.”

The wing his quarters was situated on had been eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint morning breeze brushing past the cracks in the wood of the window panes. Durandel had taken care to lock the doors leading to and from the section of the building, as ordered, ensuring the hastily arranged meeting had enough secrecy and security to go both unnoticed and undisturbed. Once those bolts had been latched, a cold feeling had swept over the elf. The section of the building around them looked like it had been abandoned for so long. Its once-quaint rooms with their small vaults and low wooden arches now seemed somehow filled with an empty sorrow.

As the tall elf opened the door and looked at his leader, Durandel got a bad feeling, although he couldn’t place what. He stood aside and immediately to attention as a figure emerged from behind the other side of the wall and slowly entered the room. The man, as tall as Shinsou but slightly stockier, was of pale complexion and swathed in black robes that seemed closer to mock tribal dress from Akashima than Coronian attire. A loose shirt and nondescript pants, all woven from simple black-dyed fabric, could be seen underneath a flowing imitation haori. The man’s jet black hair swayed at his waist and underneath several matted strands of fringe were a pair of emerald green-

“He was armed, only with this, and surrendered it willingly on arrival.” Durandel interrupted, handing Shinsou a heavy looking broadsword. As the Telgradian took the hilt in his hand he anticipated an immediate, awkward force on his forearms, but the lightweight characteristics of the weapon surprised him. He was able to hold it easily, and single-handedly.

“Remarkable,” Shinsou said as he marveled at the silver blade, “What is this metal? Aluminum? Some sort of alloy?”

“Volak,” The man in the black tunic spoke clearly and deliberately, “As strong as steel, but half the weight.”

“I’ve never heard of Volak before. Truly remarkable,” The Telgradian repeated. He paused for a moment before handing the sword back to its black-clad owner, holding up a reassuring hand as Durandel stepped forward to protest. “It’s fine. I’d be grateful if you could leave us.”

The elf, momentarily stunned, eventually nodded and cast his eyes to the floor briefly in thought before leaving through the open door. As the brass latch clicked behind him, Shinsou stood with his back pressed against the room’s wall, the fabric of his dress shirt managing to soften the pressing, whilst his darkly dressed guest sat in a nearby chair upon invitation from his host.

“The reason I’ve never heard of Volak, I assume, is because it native to your homeworld, Canen?” Osiris’s arms were folded loosely before him as he perched.

“What’s left of it.” The man, Canen, let his bright green eyes flit back and forth between various items in the room as he tried to weigh up his host. Every single thing in here would tell him more about the infamous Shinsou Vaan Osiris’s lifestyle, personality and even his eccentricities. It was his brother Gideon who had taught him attention to detail, and it would be a useful tool in assessing a man whose surface publicity had been such a taboo in Corone, but whom very few people knew much about underneath all the tavern bluster. “I brought my proof. I know you didn’t ask for it, but I want nothing left to doubt.”

Silently, the swordsman rose to his feet and produced a satchel from his robes, pulling out a small shard of metal. Rubbing the dust from the surface with the pale heel of his hand, he handed it over to the waiting Telgradian, who had left the comfort of the wall and was now stood in front of him.

Drawing in a deep breath, Shinsou’s eyes ran over the surface of the metal. It was a piece of a breastplate, marked with ancient symbols that he could not decipher, but ones he immediately recognized.

“You must understand that this is impossible. This is from Executor ISOS’s armour,” The Telgradian murmured, recalling the relic that he and Storm Veritas had destroyed in Whitevale on the day their coup had succeeded, “Me and Storm Veritas obliterated it a year ago. There was nothing left, we checked. How do you have it?”

Shinsou looked up as Canen’s eyes drew to him, his dark hair spilling down his back and over his face. His expression shifted subtly as a came to him; eyes opening a degree wider than before, his jaw muscles flexing.

“Arius Mephisto and Executor ISOS are one and the same. Four hundred years ago, a man named Arius Mephisto led an army called the Castigars long before your Brotherhood’s namesake existed. It was during that time that we suspected he was experimenting in powerful and unorthodox sorcery of the likes not ever seen. Rumours were flying around that he was trying to find ways to become immortal, and there seemed to be a fascination with messing around with time, but attempting to become immortal destroyed his original body . At this point he became like a wound, lost his physical form, and then attached himself to this armour. ISOS was the name given to this new entity, and the man Arius was forgotten.”

Shinsou’s hand played on his coattails, his fingers finding the rough chords that made up its lining. “If this is true, Canen, then that would make you…”

“The Khaian people don’t succumb to age like humans do. We live for over a thousand years, thanks to the preservatives in our blood,” Canen slid up the chair, pulling himself up and running a hand over his head. “But now, I’m the only one left. I was young, but I was there for the Castigar War. We rode under the banner of the Red Dragons. Myself, my brother Gideon and my friend Kaiser. We had this 'ISOS' holed up in his fortress, but we got careless and he slipped away. Gideon eventually tracked him down to a dead coral reef on the outskirts of a village called Karak, and challenged him.”

“What happened?” Shinsou turned his face to Canen once again.

“We don’t know exactly how it happened, but Gideon lost and ISOS escaped.” The Khaian’s answer came in a more subdued tone, “There were no witnesses to the battle. All that was left were scorch marks and that chunk of armour, glowing white hot. The mystery plagued me for centuries, but recent events have shed light on what might have happened. I think that ISOS had used a portal to escape, and it turns out that portal had dumped him elsewhere in time. It's one theory, at least.”

“Sounds a bit far-fetched…” Shinsou shut his eyes as something thumped against his nerves. “If this is the same man, or entity, I haven't ever seen anything that suggests he had any manner of control over time. But, I have seen him use portals similar to what you described, and he was hardly likely to show me any such power if he did have it."

There was a moment of silence as Shinsou quietly turned back to the window, throwing open the curtain that he had closed.

"Once the possible has been eliminated," The Telgradian mused, "only the impossible remains. If what you've said is true, it could be that he re-forged or repaired his armour here, and then he found a host body and subsumed it. It could be that 'Arius' was the one I recruited into the Brotherhood. The armour we destroyed contained sorcery that was brainwashing the people in Whitevale - clearly it was significant. We just didn't know why.”

“So, what happens now?”

It was then that Shinsou spied some commotion at the gate through the glass pane. He watched as a small number of guards began hustling towards the entrance, disappearing through it. A moment later, a number of lances levitated from the outer wall and cascaded into the square, barely missing a patrol who, bemused, stopped to investigate the pile of discarded weapons.

“However he came to be, or came to Althanas, it doesn't change a damn thing. He must die. See that?” Osiris buttoned his coat as he pointed to the unrest outside, “That is exactly one third of ‘what happens next’. If you think I'm pissed off with Arius, wait until you meet him.”

A moment later, Durandel was through the door and at his side.

“Before you say anything, Durandel, I know,” Shinsou sighed, pre-empting the elf’s report on Storm Veritas, “I knew he wouldn’t like coming back, so he’s probably in a foul mood. Get him in here as soon as possible. While you’re at it, find Rhyolite and get her in here too. Escort Canen to his secure quarters.”

“What are you doing?” The Khaian raised an eyebrow as Shinsou’s elven guard stood to his side, trying hard to not seem too intimidating.

“Right now I trust you, Canen, even if some of what you say seems a bit fantastical. But, if any of this turns out to be bullshit, I’ll know where to find you.” Shinsou explained in a calm voice as the Khaian watched Durandel stride over and clap a hand on Canen’s shoulder. “You’ll be given every comfort and courtesy, but you aren’t going to be leaving Whitevale until I can prove your motives and story. Once bitten, twice shy. Oh, that reminds me…”

Shinsou walked over to Durandel, and held out his hand. Canen’s broadsword was immediately relinquished to him.

“Does this sword have a name?”

“Valiance,” a visibly annoyed Canen responded, eyeing the Telgradian through narrow slits.

Shinsou held the grip with one hand, before pulling Canen’s sheath from his back with the other.

“I like your sword. I’m keeping it.” The Telgradian said with a glint in his eye and the slightest of smirks.

As usual, the ride back was filled with gloom. The landscape was miserable. The remaining grasses of the dry, dirt coated ground were brown and withered. Trees were fading into haunted shadows. The color scheme looking down was a dreary brown. The sky above was a chilling grey. The great mare Chamomile trotted in defiance of the depressed world around her. Head high and bopping up and down. The white steed trotted across the deathly dirt road with a bounce to her trot. Felicity wished she could share the stubborn horse's spirit. The redhead pulled her scarf up, hiding her nose and mouth from the parched wind that blew unchallenged across the once flourishing grasslands.

As they neared the wooden walls of Whitevale, voices could be heard. Excited shouts. Were they scared, thrilled, or overjoyed? Felicity squinted, unable to tell. Chamomile was just as curious about this, breaking into a canter. Felicity yelped, grasping the reigns of her steed as she darted past the guards, whom peered into the gate without leaving their posts, and into the city. There was a crowd gathered of soldiers, workers, villagers, and all else. They all were clamoring to get a view of something Felicity was too short to catch sight of as Chamomile steadied to a stop, ears twitching as she observed the crowd. Felicity sighed in relief that the horse had stopped and dismounted. At first, all eyes were gazing at the crowd; then a single worker happened to glance at Felicity pulling her equipment off and dashed towards her. Leaping over the nearby wooden stake fence, he called out, "General! I apologize for the delay!"

Felicity only raised an eyebrow as the young man started to tend to Chamomile and lighten her load. "What's going on?"

The man spoke while he continued to work, his voice filled with energetic wariness. "It's Storm Veritas. He's back."

Storm Veritas! Felicity's eyes widened. The co-founder of The Brotherhood alongside her mentor, Shinsou Vaan Osiris! Excitement boiled as her attention darted to the crowd. Her katana and war bow were held limply in her arms. The sound of Chamomile snorting and reigns being pulled called Felicity's attention back to the stable hand. The boy had placed her gear beside her and was pulling Chamomile towards the stables. "Chamomile will be tended to. Your gear is ready for you, General."

Felicity nodded distractedly and glanced at the weapons, alchemy kit, and equipment placed neatly against the fence. She blinked, eager and anxious that the Storm Veritas was here! What should she do? Go greet him? Alone? She lifted her hand, pressing her lips against a finger. Then, she decided to go for it. She lifted another hand, snapping her fingers once. "Where's the overseer?"

A gaurd, who was also trying to get a glimpse of Veritas, looked briefly at Felicity a he squeezed his spear's shaft. "Trying to get the stables back in order. One of the gaurds got ele-"

Felicity cut him off, "Oh well. I need a hand!"

Another head poked from the outskirts of the crowd. A female elf. "Yes, General Rhyolite?"

Felicity crossed her arms in a business like fashion, "Why don't you take care of my equipment for me? Take it to my office, be careful. I do not want a bow snapped or blade blunted." She narrowed her eyes, "Understand?"

The elf's ears twitched, shoulders slumped. She obviously wanted to see Veritas. Alas she followed orders and took care of Felicity's possesions, save the top tier arming sword Felicity had strapped to her belt. The elegant weapon, Splicer, was made of prevailda. The black blade was engraved with a dragon with gothic artistry. It was a well made, expensive weapon. A sign of stature. Felicity reached back and combed her hair back with her hands, making it fall into some sort of order. As she walked towards the crowd, she straightened her outfit from the ride and wiped the dust from her trousers. She cleared her throat when the crowd did not part at first, but upon seeing the stout general the mesh of species and ranks started to leave room to walk. Felicity lifted her chin, straightened her back, and marched through the crowd. She awaited Veritas.

At the center of the crowd, several high ranking guards prevented anyone from the crowd from getting in. Behind them, seated on a barrel, was an older looking man. His frame was scrawny compared to Felicity, but he was way taller. He appeared to have lighter eyes, with dark hair edged with black. His face was wrinkled, from either age or temper - or both. His face was burrowed in a grimace of unhappiness and impatience. Obviously, he did not like the attention. One of the guards stepped in front of Felicity, blocking her view. Felicity looked up to see the man blinking in surprise. "General Rhyolite, we were told by the overseer not to let anyone through."

Without a moment's passing, Felicity pointed to herself with her thumb, "I outrank to overseer. Let me in."

The man bowed his head after hesitation, lowering his eased pike. "As you wish."

Felicity nodded and stepped through. More commotion was raised from the crowd, causing Felicity's cheeks to burn hot despite the frigid climate. How long can I keep this up? I'm not nearly as competent as I appear, or confident.

Her head was lowered again until she found herself standing in front of the grouchy man that was Storm Veritas. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed as the cold overtook all. Felicity lifted her head again, regaining her former composure. "I am Felicity Rhyolite, General of the Brotherhood of the Castigars and Apprentice of Shinsou Vaan Osiris." Her voice somehow managed not to crack, despite her heart pounding so hard it could explode from her chest. Her green eyes narrowed, meeting Veritas' grey orbs. "I understand you co-founded this party. I salute you." She flashed a sharp salute, eyes starting to soften despite her tense, proper body language. Then, to affirm his higher ranking, she kneeled. This felt more like her place, the servant or student of someone better, more legendary, She was always humble, it was her home. She never knew anything above it. Still, her voice was assertive as she asked, "What brings you back to the base of operations?"

Never one to shy from theatrics, Storm was nonetheless annoyed with the commotion his little stunt had created. People flooded into the area by the front gate rapidly, lemmings marching towards potential slaughter. It brought a crooked grin to his face, considering how these fantastically vulnerable fools so readily raced to behold the spectacular capabilities which so easily could be their undoing. There were whispers he’d heard about a dragon recently around these parts; how many of these two-bit townies ran into its mouth to get a good look at the fire?

A town full of the fake tough and stupid brave. They march up without hesitation, but lower their eyes to avoid my gaze. What they don’t know makes them brave; the little that is understood showcases their cowardice.

One woman, a kid as his own years would perceive, had to be special. She had the look of it; she came up boldly through the crowd, introduced herself without quiver in her voice, and looked him directly in the eye as she spoke her name. The un-gifted humans never had balls like that. She wasn’t tall, but didn’t look frail, either; her frame reminded him of the beautiful mage that he had fallen for so long ago. This girl looked almost inhuman with her muscular and skeletal density, but the red hair and brilliant emerald eyes were an echo of Karuka.

Then she dropped to a knee, an act of subservience that broke his flickering memory like a dropped glass. Both flattered and annoyed, the wizard snapped a response that was an attempt at courtesy and correction.

“Get up! A General of the Brotherhood kneels for none!” He reached to his bag and withdrew a large leather water bottle, fervently twisting the cap free and enjoying a quick pull of the hot, sweet mead. The notes of honey soothed his throat, which stung in the cold air. He smiled and extended the pouch, but the girl resisted. Perhaps a moment of sound judgment on her behalf.

“Call me Storm, and save the formalities for Shinsou. It’s odd to hear of an apprentice making general, but I’ll have you at your word.” He rubbed at his chin, feeling the thick whiskers that had been borne of his recent trials. It was uncharacteristic for the electromancer to ride into… well… anywhere looking this haggard, but if his suspicion was correct, he rode in with a singular purpose, and it was entirely apolitical.

We’re going to kill that bald motherfucker.

He breathed deeply through his nose as he considered his words, impressed with the girl who chose not to fill the air with senseless babble. She had asked his purpose, respectfully waiting out his response.

“Your brooding mentor sent me a note, asking for help. Since he asks for help about as much as I ask for torches, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what he’s really asking for.”

The powerful looking kid who called herself Felicity tried not to look confused at this, and her failure was respectable. The older traveler smiled more earnestly at this, clapping his horse about the neck as Attila brayed in satisfaction. Storm could feel the wrinkles about his eyes and forehead form deeper as he took some mild amusement at the confusion, still impressed with the young woman’s focus.

“You aren’t meant to read my mind, relax. Bear in mind that when I was your age, you were a twinkle in your mom’s eye and I was half as smart as these fence-posts. If you’re not going to drink, just take me to Shinsou; I suspect we have quite a bit to discuss.”

The presence of doubt was warranted in Whitevale; for all his smiles and charm Veritas still kept his eyes darting about his perimeter. His quick checks were guised as the smiles of a politician greeting his people, but in reality crowded places were disquieting. It was a gathered crowd that gave the would-be assassin cover to shoot his best friend from a distance. It was a gathered crowd that slowed Storm’s pursuit of Arius Mephisto, allowing the menace to escape.

Read me, kid. Get me the fuck out of here and let’s see the man in black.

Mercifully, the young general was instinctive. It was mere minutes before Attila was led to a stable to be watered and fed, and Storm followed carefully into the large, stone administrative building, where whale oil lanterns cast a pleasant orange glow over the inside of the building. His thoughts raced in memories of the place as he approached the thick wooden door that led to the Mayor’s Chambers, dense oak that once held his own office space. It was strange to be a stranger again.

There were multiple voices behind the door, and the wizard’s tension was at last released when he heard the familiar chatter of an old friend.

What seemed like an eternity flew by before Veritas's knuckles hammered on the office door. Shinsou knew it was the electromancer straight away, simply from the manner of his rapping. It was as if a drunken man was knocking on his locked front door to wake his pissed off wife and this was always telling of the mood Storm was likely to be in.

Neither Shinsou nor Canen spoke again as Durandel slipped to the door and let both Veritas and Felicity Rhyolite enter in tandem. In every way possible, they were completely dissimilar; his best friend Storm with his ageing, hardened features, slicked dark hair with the odd fleck of grey, with hers flame red and wavy. His eyes seemed cold and his gaze sharp as he took in the sight of Canen next to Shinsou, whilst hers were wide and eager to explore. While Felicity was by nature a bright and emotive person, Veritas could be dry and introverted. While her smile was enthusiastic and endearing, his spoke of mischief and arrogance. They were both intelligent and athletic, but in vastly different ways; Shinsou wondered if it would take a miracle to get them to work together.

"Lord Osiris," Felicity stopped in the centre of the room, on the red carpet, and stood to attention respectfully. She seemed more tense than usual, and the Telgradian could probably guess why.

"Seems like everyone is on edge,” Storm finally spoke, breaking the fragile silence with a characteristically sculpted expression of neutrality on his face. He leaned against a nearby bookshelf, breathing deeply of the fresh tobacco he had lit in the well of his pipe. "A couple of the guards needed an attitude adjustment, as you probably gathered. Next time they'll remember whose hand it is that feeds their sorry asses. Anyway, I assume we're not here on a social call?"

Shinsou smiled as Felicity shot Storm a sideways glance whilst the wizard's eyes explored Canen. In turn, the Khaian seemed as bemused by him as Felicity. Anyone else would have considered the electromancer rude and uncouth, but the Telgradian knew him well and this was his way. “You assume correctly, my friend.” he replied, his voice low and melodic.

He outstretched a palm towards his guest, and then back to them. “Canen, this is the co-leader of the Brotherhood, Storm Veritas, and General Felicity Rhyolite. Now, Durandel will see to your needs, and I'd be grateful if you could follow him to the guest quarters. Please forgive me for not seeing to this myself, for I must discuss your information in detail with my colleagues and there is a lot to be done, as I'm sure you can appreciate.”

Accepting at last Shinsou's 'invitation' to leave, Canen noted the pair and nodded in acknowledgement before leaving the room with the elf. Finally, it was just the three of them.

"Canen is a Khaian," Almost immediately, Shinsou dived into the details, “Now, I doubt either of you have ever heard of a Khaian, as they are not native to Althanas, much like me. They have many interesting characteristics, but the most important one is that their people tend to live for hundreds of years and don't age. Why is that relevant?"

Neither Storm's nor Felicity's expressions wavered. He realised they'd probably grown accustomed to such long winded stories from him. He turned his gaze and looked through the window, at the scouring sun.

“This is why. Four hundred years ago, a man who happened to be called Arius Mephisto was the leader of an army called the Castigars. Canen claims to have lived in that time. He told me that he was part of a force dedicated to fighting him, and that they thought that he was trying to find ways to become immortal by fucking about with dark magic, specifically time. He obviously tried something and ended up destroying his original body, lost his physical form, and then Canen said he attached himself to a set of armour. They then called whatever the end product of this was 'ISOS', and after a skirmish he used a portal to escape. Storm, does this sound familiar to you?”

Veritas faltered with his pipe, raising his eyes to the ceiling in thought. "Bits. There was a set of armour here when we took over from the council. Executor ISOS's armour. But we destroyed that; every last bit, and there was no sign of anything living in it. So, can't be the same guy. The portals stack up though as Arius was keen on those. I don't know, Shin. This whole thing sounds like a crock of shit. How do we know Canen isn't a Mephisto plant, fucking with us?"

“Canen brought me a shard of the armour” Shinsou continued speaking, “It could only have existed in his time, before we destroyed it, or he's a fucking magnificent counterfeiter. I know it's a lot to gamble on, but either way, I'm working on a theory. Assuming all this is true, this means ISOS and Arius have always been one and the same, and the Arius we know is just a host body he subsumed when he got to our time. Can you see the issue?”

“…He could be anyone.”

The simplicity of Felicity's reply was cold water to a fire. There was a collective pause for a minute as everyone absorbed the statement.

Exactly. Which is why-

Storm could see the determinedly downcast lines of Shinsou's brow, and finished the Telgradian's thought.

"Which is probably why we can't find the fucker." he ventured.

“We have to flush him out, somehow,” Shinou answered, looking up at the pair again. As always, he caught the flicker of emotion in Felicity's eyes as they met hers; and then his gaze immediately escaped again to the neutrality of Storm's. "There are a whole host of scenarios. Number one; he could still be in his old body and just be very well protected; the last sighting of him was about four weeks ago. Number two, he's switched bodies and is going to keep doing this until he finds the right fit. Either way, the one common denominator is that if Canen is right, and I realise that's a big "if", he is looking for a powerful body; something unique."

The young woman took a deep breath. "How many special bodies are out there? How would he know where to look, or who to choose?"

“I don't know. Maybe he has an ability like mine, where he can somehow sense power. His current body allowed him to be quite proficient in magic, as me and Storm found out, but he's missing his ring finger now and that'll limit his ability to shut us out again." Shinsou replied, his voice low once more.

Again his words were simple, but they offered no solution. As the sun cast its glare over Whitevale, the convened mulled over the future with pause for thought.

Not every silence need be awkward, but the young general had a nervous tension about her that pushed the deliberation well into the sphere of the uncomfortable. Storm had grown accustomed to allowing the vulnerability of his intellectual limits to be known to Shinsou, but amongst others he enjoyed a terrific air of superiority that he rarely failed to lord. Pulling the sweet cherry richness from his pipe, the wizard stared briefly at his shoes for answers that weren’t available on the beaten leather boots. They lacked the sheen he would prefer to garnish, but riding into town on horseback looked patently absurd if you didn’t wear boots.

“Time magic… shit, we get a chance to feel how the townfolk feel about us. Time? This asshole’s more than powerful, it makes him a god.”

Click. Light had dawned, as he tried to work the logic out loud.

“I had presumed he had shot back to you using a portal, but if he can control time, wouldn’t we be dead?”

In his own modest mental capacities, Storm was sure he’d discerned something here. Freezing time altogether or popping back and forth through time would render someone literally invincible. It’s very easy to win a fight when you’ve already fought it and know your opponents moves; easier still to simply put a wire across his throat in his sleep as a child.

Still the same, we’ve just jumped into water over our heads.

Another puff of smoke filled him; his lungs tingled and heartrate settled. There was something reassuring about the posit that he had made. If he was going to embark on a mission against someone with something so intimidating as fucking time at their disposal, then he’d need a dose of confidence in his corner.

“He’s bound by rules. He HAS to be, or we’d be long dead by now. He wouldn’t have waited through Radasanth or allowed us to come close to stopping him in Tylermande.” Storm was facing the bookshelf now, trying to glean information through the copious stacks of green and black-backed hardcovers that he absolutely had not read.

“That’s the good news. The bad news is time is still a trump card far and above my big fancy magnets and your assorted bags of tricks.” He wondered about the young-looking stranger introduced as “Canen”, who apparently didn’t age. Did he have any magic to bring to the table? Perhaps something equally preposterous? The ability to summon meteorites, perhaps? Those seemed to do a number on the place.

Probably a fancy turn of phrase for a vampire. Ageless, silly, and weak as an elderly fart.

With this, he turned an eye toward General Rhyolite, who appeared to move back and forth. She was still a bit of a mystery to him; perhaps she had something up her sleeve as well. After all, it was unlikely she rose to the ranks of General based on cheekbones and an extra strong jaw.

“Still the same, not too many can make a scene better than we can. If we can’t figure out his rules, do we have anything? Does your old-teenage-looking buddy know anything of value? A family home that I could torch in the cold light of day? A few similarly long-toothed friends of Arius that he’d be upset to see turned into a human firework?”

Veritas turned back to the others in the small room, rubbing his temples with his right hand. “Would like to play offense for a change. Make him act irrationally, out of rage, and outside his comfort zone.”

A cunning smile as he turned to the relative newcomer. “Generally General-like general ideas, General?”

Time.

Felicity knew a powerful weilder of time very well. Would he help, however? The fumes of Storm’s pipe penetrated the room as her nose was filled with that smell. Felicity generally ignored it, however, as she thought of him. She paced back and forth, arms behind her back as she fidgeted her clasped hands. Looking down at the floor, she considered the options. She looked up at Shinsou, her walking slowing to a stop. The floorboards stopped creaking below her as she lifted a finger.

“I know someone. He’s, like, really good with time. His ability to control time is actually phenomenal. I’d argue unmatched.” She lowered her finger, looking down at the unswept floor, “Before I met Shinsou, he sorta found me. Took time to train me for a bit and even granted me a small portion of his powers. I don’t think those limited powers could help; but what about his?”

She then then turned to face the window. Uncertainty crept in as she walked towards it. The bleak sky did not help the mood here. Neither did the absence of a certain white owl. “Thing is, he had to swear an oath to not get directly involved with the battles of mortals. He can’t use his power to change any tides unless it’s within his realm of direct duty. So,-“

Felicity looked back at Storm, then Shinsou, “-Can he help us? He loves to ‘indirectly’ help me, but not much else.” Thinking about the way he aided her so much in the past, even as a voice in her head, made her feel strangely warm inside. She was unaware of her cheeks burning as she continued. “He is compassionate though. And I wonder if he’d step in to defeat someone who can manipulate time like that. He exists to avert time abusers, after all.”

She turned back to the window, placing a four fingered hand on the cold window sill. “Want me to summon him? Worth a try, right?”

Her thoughts grew anxious as she considered the impressions on Veritas and the lasting impact on Shinsou. She hoped this was not a hopeless idea. After all, this was someone of great importance. This was the Thayne of Time, who just so happened to notice her.

Outside, that white owl landed on the roof of the building opposite of the office.

Shinsou listened carefully to his peers, one at a time. Storm was up first. The wizard always thought himself behind the intellectual curve, but that was something the Telgradian strongly disagreed with for good reason; Veritas had an eye for detail, logic and common sense, all forms of intelligence that even the smartest people sometimes lacked. Whilst Shinsou would often spend his time explaining and analysing his philosophies, ponderings, and looming strategies to the n'th degree, Storm was always there to point out that which his friend often overlooked. These were often small but critical details on which an entire operation could hinge, and this made his partnership with the electromancer invaluable.

The words rang in his ears again. He’s bound by rules. He HAS to be, or we’d be long dead by now.

The words nagged him as he paced the length of the office, head bowed. Storm was right, and this led the Telgradian to three possible conclusions as to why Arius had thus far not demonstrated his power. Firstly, it could have been that any prolonged use of this time magic would be detrimental to Arius, in some way. After all, if Canen was right and to be believed, experimenting with it cost the man his original body. Secondly, it was equally plausible that Arius had deliberately not used the power at his disposal. For what reason, Shinsou was unsure, although he did know by now that his former right hand man often had an endgame to all of his machinations. Thirdly, it was equally plausible that despite Canen’s evidence from before, Arius did not in fact possess the type of power that had been suggested. Perhaps there was another explanation for his arrival, currently beyond the realms of their comprehension? Or even a more obvious reason – that Canen was either wrong or lying?

As his thought process gathered momentum, Shinsou then listened to what his general had to say. Felicity's words almost defied belief; that she knew someone proficient in the sort of terrifyingly unknown practice of time magic, and mentioned this just at a time when further consultation on this dark art was never more required. At first, it seemed all too convenient. The Telgradian found himself wondering if she was just trying to impress both him and Storm, and an exchange of looks between the two men conveyed this. But then, as he scrambled to find the right words, cognizant of the need to not ridicule his apprentice in front of Storm Veritas, something came into his periphery. At first glance it was obviously an Owl, but Shinsou's vision only told him a half truth. The Telgradian couldn’t feel anything at all from the animal, even as he directed all of his focus to try and sense anything from it.

The only times in living memory he had not been able to sense another living creature was when he had encountered Joshua Cronen, and when they had both fought Draconis. The connection?

Joshua was a demi-god. Draconis was a full blown Thayne.

“What is that thing?” He kept his gaze fixed on the Owl, which seemed guarded and rigid. Was it the time-wielding accomplice that Felicity had referred to? It seemed crazy, but he and Storm had seen more absurdity than this in their lives.

The bird outside sat atop the room, looking directly upon Felicity with understanding, amber eyes. The white owl’s feathers were ruffled in the unforgiving wind. Felicity smiled, reaching and opening the window with a single finger, a testament to her physical strength. The window was open, allowing a bitter draft into the room. Felicity was used to the cold, having grown up far north of Corone. Yet, she understood that the others might dislike it. Thus, she motioned the creature towards the window. The owl then extended its powerful wings and glided towards the window with quiet, swift grace. The bird flew straight through the window, possibly causing the others to spook as it glided above them, circling for a moment until it landed straight on Shinsou’s desk chair.

Then, a flash of light was emitted by the creature. The figure was bathed in light as the shape grew. Then, as it died down, the owl was replaced with a young man.

His age was hard to pinpoint. He gave off a natural aura of someone far wiser than any child. His yellow eyes were shaded in knowledge beyond human comprehension, shadowed in layers of unnatural sorrow. His face, however, shone in the light of someone young and energetic. His skin was smooth, soft, like a much younger creature than even Felicity was. It was his stature, more than anything, that suggested his true age. He was lean, yet physically in a state of lithe might. Still, his body was still maturing into something of an adult. He was truly an adolescent, who like Felicity was somewhere between a child and grown up. His posture said he was more on the immature side as well, as he leaned back against the seat. The entire chair was forced to balance on its two back legs as the boy set his bare feet atop the desk. His long, white hair hung half over his face as he gazed upon all within the room with an unsettling level of knowingness. It was as if he could peer into your very soul, without consent or comfort. Yet, his eyes were shaded from you through sheer kindness, a kindness seen in those same, sage eyes. He wore pure, white clothes seemingly made of silk, which was unusual here these days, especially in the frigid climate the End of All Things brought.

He turned his head, leaned against the creaking wooden chair, towards Felicity. “What is it?”

Felicity took a step forward, aware of Storm’s guarded energy and Shinsou’s confusion. She walked up to the desk and pointed at his feet. “Can’t you sit in a better way than that?”

A smile spread across his face as he crossed his arms, “Nope.”

Felicity scoffed, half hopeless and half amused. She placed her hand on her head, “Oh, owl boy…”

“Still calling me that?” He rolled along with the warm hearted banter.

From behind them, she heard Shinsou Osiris speak in a manner similar to when he commanded his military. It gave Felicity a sense of discomfort. “Who is this, Felicity?”

Felicity turned towards him, face burning as she considered the potential of being untrusted by him. After all we’ve been through, do you think… Her teeth grinded together as her anger grew rapidly fast. “Osiris. Relax. I know him!”

“Felicity.”

Felicity turned to see the snow haired boy sitting up straighter. His chair finally was back on all four legs as he sat up with a face of concern. It was obvious to any outside observer that he understood her temperament just as well as anyone acquainted with her. Even more. He sat there, giving Felicity a warning look. “Don’t let perceived personal offense lead you astray.” He warned her.

Feeling herself grow hot and uncomfortable, Felicity looked down as the young man spoke to the two men watching these interactions. “I will tell you who I am.” He spoke aloud. Felicity turned to see Storm and Shinsou watching them with deep interest and thought. The boy spoke from behind her.

“I am Gweneal, son of Jomil. I am the Thayne of Time.”

Felicity looked back up at him pointing at himself with his thumb, his light face carrying a hint of a smirk. “You have me to thank for getting Felicity to join your Brotherhood. You’re welcome.”

He then leaned forward, his face rapidly fading into something more somber. Even the bright energy of his face dimmed in a supernatural manner as he placed his hands on the desk. “Who you are searching for is no time mage. This means two things right off the bat.”

He lifted one hand, pointer finger signaling to himself. “One: I cannot help you directly. Indirectly, yes, I can give you information if desired. But I cannot lift a finger in a magical or physical manner here.”

Then, he pointed upwards, shaking his finger. “Second: you have been lied to. Looking back through time, I perfectly see it all. I know who and what Arius Mephisto is. And I am warning you, he is already here.”

His finger circled around, signaling the entirety of the Brotherhood’s city. “He has infiltrated you long ago. He has stayed here, unchallenged, and knows every secret you carry close to you. He can switch hosts at will, and he could be anyone.”

Gweneal then crossed his arms. “And his last host was Canen Darkflight.”

The entire course of events was a tornado, and it left the wizard even more confused than he had originally imagined. He had jumped like a frightened child at the entrance of the large owl, and hopped backwards in what felt a very natural reaction as the bird then somehow metamorphized into a handsome, pale looking young man. When the man-child began speaking, identifying himself as a Thayne, it felt all too much. Storm moved about the room nervously, feeling claustrophobic in the small stone enclave as the outside world had effectively disappeared.

This shit’s going sideways too quickly for my liking. I thought the Thaynes were effectively Gods upon Althanas, not like this half-assed callboys with a parlor trick up his sleeve. Is this “Gweneal” full of shit, or not?

Like a nervous tiger, Veritas moved back and forth, marching in a tight circle as his eyes didn’t move from the intruder. Logically, it bore to reason that the newcomer had to be honest, as invading a room with this trio was unequivocal suicide for all but the most powerful creatures upon Althanas. Creatures like a Thayne, or apparently like Arius Mephisto.

“Hold the fuck up.” Wisdom came after reaction, whether he enjoyed the outbursts of ignorance or not. “So the girl I just met brings in a fancy owl, who flies in through the god-damned window, flash-changes into a sun-starved oracle, and accuses a friend of Shin’s I just met of being our enemy. Am I following this correctly?”

He felt his own nostrils flare at the audacity of the moment. The only sound beyond the echo of his gravelly voice was the clacking of his shoes upon the floor as he moved. The white-haired Adonis was expressionless; Felicity some blend of angry, scared, or exasperated. Vaan Osiris also wore the emotional cocktail of betrayal and confusion, swirled with a pinch of amusement at Storm’s own bewilderment.

Hopping bodies sounds only a short-and-curly shy of time manipulation on the scale of harmless to skinning-our-asses-alive. So glad this little shit could enter and give us some riddles before we all die.

The chest of the electromancer felt tight at the consideration of events. He felt his mouth dry as he attempted to track out the magnitude of the claims made by the boy.

“OK, son, riddle me this, then. How do we know when he hops hosts, then? Do we just start interviewing random villagers? ‘Excuse me, blacksmith, but are you by chance a shape-shifting demi-warlock that I’ve been hunting for a few months?’ “

His hands clenched at his side, irate anger manifesting in electric energy that buzzed from his fingertips in tiny white tendrils, like water dripping from a man fresh out of the bath. The sizzling sounds of electricity were faint but distinct, as the patience of the aging magician had worn perilously thin. The newcomer straightened his arrow-like spine even further as he prepared to speak, before being cut off curtly.

“Don’t answer that. It doesn’t fucking matter. As I see things, we have a singular objective – Arius Mephisto. He can show up in multiple forms, or time travel, or fly or turn butterflies into meteors or whoever-the-fuck-knows what else. I don’t care. He still has holdings, and he still has friends.”

A darkness seemed to fall upon the face of Veritas as he pulled his graying hair back against his scalp. A wild look in his eyes conveyed the sincerity and conviction behind his ideas.

“No more cat-and-mouse. I’ll flush him out in whatever form he wants by taking everything he has in this world and tearing it down. You can retain some plausible deniability if you’d prefer to stay behind; if you come with I suggest you leave the training wheels at home.” His eyes darted to the impetuous new general with a quick note of frustration. In the eyes of the villain, the time for half-measures had ended.

Whilst Felicity Rhyolite experienced first-hand what it was like to be on the wrong end of Storm Veritas’s frayed nerves, Shinsou looked back at the pair, and then at Gweneal. Although outwardly characteristically calm, his senses screamed at him, begged him to get some sort of rationality back into proceedings. The sudden appearance of the Thayne of Time through an open window assailed his normally substantial powers of reason, and, as if that wasn’t enough, the revelation (if it was indeed a revelation) that Canen Darkflight was either a current or previous host for Arius Mephisto felt like a punch in the gut.

Then, there was the small matter of Veritas. The electromancer’s patience had understandably crumbled like a dry sandcastle, and Shinsou knew him well enough to know when the tobacco smoking wizard was about to go feral. Perhaps it was the sheer acceleration and enormity of events overwhelming his coping mechanisms, but even the street smart Veritas hadn’t thought this through.

“Right,” The Telgradian interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes as he attempted to break everything back down into logical truths, “Everyone stop for a fucking minute. First things first; Storm, I know there’s a lot to take in here but we haven’t the first idea who his friends are or where his support is coming from. If we did, we’d have hit them hard long ago. So, unless you know something I don’t, we would be going out there, wanton, with no roadmap. He’s probably waiting for us to do something fucking stupid, on the hoof. Let’s not make his job any fucking easier.”

Shinsou hated reproofing his friend; not for fear of repercussion, as there had been many times where the pair had stood on each others toes over ‘creative differences’, but because he understood Storm’s frustration. Shinsou wanted to go out there and burn down Arius’s world right alongside the wizard. He wanted to make sure that his was the last face Arius saw before he died like the miserable shit he was, but this bastard was a clever one and the Telgradian had no doubt the man was waiting for them to get emotional and make a mistake.

If Storm got out there and got killed on the heat of the moment, Shinsou would never forgive himself. He pursed his lips and nodded Storm an almost apologetic acknowledgement, before turning to address the ethereal presence of Gweneal.

His golden eyes narrowed as he looked into the pearly whites of the childlike apparition. The Telgradian should have feared the Thayne. It should have been a natural feeling for a mortal to tremble before a deity, but his experiences with Joshua Cronen and their destruction of the greater Thayne Draconus in Scara Brae numbed him to the anxieties that one would feel when dealing with such power. It was an air of invincibility that he probably did not deserve, but one that he nonetheless carried with him, and it was then that Shinsou forgot he was not talking to a child, but the Thayne of Time.

“Let’s get some actual facts we can use. His last host was Canen Darkflight? Does that mean current host? Last host but one? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re situated in a packed village here, a bit more detail would go a long way here, if you’d please,” Shinsou said harshly. He couldn’t see the expression on Felicity’s face, who clearly couldn't believe the way the pair of them were addressing the Thayne.

“That’s all I can tell you,” Gweneal replied, without a mote of emotion in his voice, “Canen was the last host.”

“So, is this a case of can’t help us, or won’t?” The Telgradian accused. “Right now, we have to make a decision as to whether or not Canen is an unassuming vessel for the weapon of Arius Mephisto housed at its heart. If he is, and we overlook it, we’re in trouble. Tell me, Thayne; beneath all that divine indifference to mortal life, could you stand to see Arius’s sword pierce her heart? Or are you happy to sit there, uninvolved, like many of the pantheon around you?”

There was no response as Gweneal’s eyes followed the tip of Shinsou’s outstretched finger to a bewildered Felicity. The Telgradian’s eyes flashed with a stern anger, but the feeling didn’t translate a tone of voice. Instead, he almost whispered his retort.

“I've experience with the Thayne. I have been fortunate enough to have met those within the ranks of the faithful, like Joshua Cronen, who truly do wish for a greater good. There are those of you who mean the best for the people. But then there are ones like you, and Draconus. Murderers, if not by intent, then by omission. The only difference between you and that dragon is that I doubt you truly realize what you're doing.”

That thought guided him back to the man currently under house arrest in the Brotherhood complex, Canen, and it was then the Telgradian felt something . It was abnormal, and extremely painful, like a blade being forced into his gut. Gritting his teeth, the confused Shinsou tapped into his spirit sense. Each life in Whitevale appeared to him in terms of colours. Most were blue, but both Veritas and Felicity were green, signifying a much higher than average spiritual or magical potential than the average human. ‘Specials’, Storm jokingly called them. But in a small corner of Whitevale, in the prison block where had Storm had once had to beat two men to death with their bare hands, a new colour resonated. It was eclipse shaped, and swirled with marbled lilac hues that every now and then released a fork of white. Whilst Storm and Felicity gazed quizzically at the Telgradian, sensing that something was up, Shinsou tried to make sense of what was happening, sweating from the pain in his stomach.

“Something’s going on in Canen’s cell block. I can’t make out what the fuck is happening, but it feels like-“

Shit. Fucking shit!

As his words trailed off, Shinsou’s eyes swerved from the floor and back up to Storm and Felicity.

“Canen’s dead. It has to be that son of a bitch! Let's get over there quick. I don't care if we have to kill every guard in that block to make sure we got him - let's just fucking get there, now!”

It was irony manifest, although he hadn't spotted it. The same darkness that overcame Veritas now seemed to fall upon him too. The same wild eyes, the same salivation and urge pulling him like a cosmic magnet towards ending the life of his most loathed adversary were all present.

Now, all they had to do was get to the prison block before Arius was lost to them forever.

Thud!

Felicity fell on her back, finding her way vision resting on the white ceiling of a strangely clean clock tower. As the sound of moving gears clamored in her ears, she turned her gaze to the figure approaching.

"Honestly, Lassie, I am not used to my human form. Yet, I defeated you."

Gwenael's human form bent forward, offering a hand to her. His ethereal eyes alone hinted at his Thaynehood. His orange orbs were filled with ten million stars it seemed; ageless and vigorous, yet old and weary all at once. His expression, however, was cheerful as Felicity took his hand. It was strange, how casual and comfortable she was with him. This Realm of the Thayne was bizarre. Time seemed totally out of since, with even seconds seeming to pass forever. This sparring session had still lasted but a moment, however, and a short moment. Despite how strange this place was, Felicity felt rather sound with Gweneal here. When Gweneal was in this tower of his, training her in combat and showing her how things worked around here, she felt so much more confident. It took no time at all for her to feel close to him. Then again, her desperation for love could of caused this swift attachment as well. As he pulled her up, she jokingly retorted. "You are a Thayne."

Gwenael scoffed, looking away as the brilliant light in his eyes dimmed just a little. "Barely."

The clock hands struck twelve within that moment. The heavy bell echoed around the building as the light hearted air of their training session dissipated.

"Gwenael?"

Gwenael looked at her again with a somewhat older look to his features. His face glowed less, and his skin was no longer so smooth. His white hair had turned an earthy grey as he frowned. "Jomil does not even accept me as her son. My mother disowned me."

Felicity's heart began to ache as their eyes met in kinship, "You know that pain, Felicity."

Felicity nodded, yet found her pain transfer to anger for her friend. His eyes turned blue, as opposed to his more natural amber. It was his "mortal" eye color. He felt like he was so much less than Felicity knew he was. Outrageous!

"But who cares!" she demanded.

The bell began to quiet down as she took a step closer, stomping on the marble floor. "So what if she forsook you? If you don't matter to her, don't let her matter to you!"

Confusion swirled in his deep eyes as he looked slightly downwards. "But she is a Great Thay-"

"-Shut up!" Felicity's forehead met his with a headbutt as he stepped back in shock. He held his head as he could barely look up to her. Disbelief and indignation flooded her as she spat, "You are a Thayne! Can't you retaliate against even me?! A mortal!"

It was pathetic! A Thayne was refusing to stand up to someone far weaker! He was better than this - or he should be. Disgusting, how lowly this young deity felt. Her own rage over the racist society she grew up with, the mother that disowned her, and the state of cruelty and malice of the world was overbearing. She needed to fight it! And Gweneal needed to fight it as well. Especially since he was so much stronger. He was a Thayne!

She glared at him with ferocious sympathy. Even if this was harsh, she desperately tried to repay him the kindness she showed him in her own way. "Start acting like the god you are and demand some respect! From the Thayne, and especially from mortals! Gwenael, you are a Thayne! Lesser, Greater, who cares! You are a Thayne!"

His eyes flooded with tears, blue eyes turning deeper as his skin turned smoother, lighter, once again. Hope…

~~~

The stiff atmosphere of the room was heavy as lead. The girl looked down to the floor, her entire body hot as her face flushed red. Her body vibrated as her hands twitched. Rage. He was a Thayne! Yet, this Storm Veritas dare speak to him like this! Shinsou too! Felicity trusted Shinsou! Yet, here they were, treating him like he was below them. How dare they! Her personal attachment to the Lesser Thayne boiled as her heart came near explosion, her eyes near tears. At this point, she was so disconnected from reality, it was Shinsou practically screaming that brought her back. He cusses, shouting that someone was dead and they needed to move that instance. Her eyes widened as she heard footsteps on the wooden floorboards. The two leaders of the Brotherhood were snapping into action. Without pause, without apology.

"Felicity," Shinsou called in the stern voice that hastily became familiar today, "Come on!"

Felicity's dry mouth felt sowed shut as she looked up at him. She could barely see his expression through her tears, but some sort of reaction caused him to step back. "Fel-"

"-Lassie."

Their heads both snapped in the direction of the Thayne. Gweneal's eyes ever held that ancient knowledge and sage inner clock as he spoke steady words. He stood up, walking across the desk as he maintained a relaxed posture. How could he be so calm! He practically was degraded moments ago! "It is time to move. Go-"

"-Shut up!" Felicity screamed. All the anger from these last several minutes were unleashed in a roar strangely inhuman. She did not realize it, for she did not know, but it was deathly similar to the scream of that raging monster of nuclear energy, violent and terrifying to all that beheld it. She stomped on the floor, the boards crying out in stress as she came close to him again. He stood a small bit taller as their faces were inches from each other. Her last footstep completely shattered the floorboard, yet she did not notice as their eyes met. Her seething anger met his concealed indignation. Even through her hot tears, she could see how he truly felt about how he was just treated. Yet, once again, he did not fight.

Pathetic.

"You're a Thayne!"

His eyes narrowed, the clock working within them dimming as those stars inside swirled in arcane glory. "Now is not the time for this, Lassie. There are more important things to worry about than my stupid Thayneship."

She headbutted him in jerk reaction, "It's not stupid!"

"Felicity." Without a flinch from the pain of their collision, he glared at her. His voice grew more stern as he amber eyes glowed, a hint of his true power. "Go after Arius. We will finish this later."

He lifted his head from her, standing tall as his entire body seemed to hum in energy. "I will be right behind you."

Felicity realized how different this reaction was from that fight before. He was… assertive… he knew how to be assertive now. And suddenly, his previous words made sense. Her tears doubled as logic sunk in. How on earth could he, and she, worry about being worshipped and revered when the greater good of Whitevale was on the line! She looked back at Shinsou, who was watching to whole thing, and her anger melted away. Replaced by embarrassed shame.

Her next words were more of a whisper than she realized. "I'm sorry."

Without another word, she darted out of the doorway. Surpassing Veritas, who was at the bottom of the stairs, she bolted from the office building as she reached and wiped her tears away. She then turned her head in the direction leading to their destination. Her vision was still blurry, and the sky was unusually bright. Even here, her magic affinity gave off warnings of incoming doom. She followed it, racing towards where Canen was kept.

The wizard had experienced a wave of emotions that ran the gamut from rage to embarrassment to fear and once more to fury. The omnipresent power of the Thayne was unimpressive to him; for as powerful as the ageless little paleface might be, he wasn’t doing a damned thing to further their desperate position. When they were given word of Canen’s disturbance, they moved without word, or opportunity to reconcile the differences exposed amongst them. For now, there was only a flourish to get to the cell before Arius could escape.

Storm Veritas couldn’t recall if his feet touched the stairs on the way down to the cell. Flickering yellows of metal-caged torches guided the path to the cellar, as the normal smell of must was replaced with something that hid him with a wave of acrid resolution.

Shit. Too late.

Indeed, the thick, muscled frame of Canen Darkflight was no more. Standing back to take inventory of the moment, the electromancer could find no hint of the enemy that had made his hands buzz and hum. Instead, a bizarre mass of meat, bone, blood and skin was heaped upon the floor with the skull-less face of Canen draped atop it, a soft flap of flesh.

“Is he… Is he dissolving?” Aghast, the mage covered his mouth as he stepped backwards.

The mass continued to lose its humanity. It appeared that the bone mass left first, as apendages bent soft and limp about impossible angles as a sizzling sounds hissed away. The overall size of the heap continued to shrink inwards, the mass of musculature fading and skin tones blending into a singular beige hue.

The girl moved past the wizard, bold and brazen without a touch of fear. Had she seen this before? Shinsou had arrived at some point; whether he had found Canen first or after Storm seemed immaterial at this point. Canen was bound to him; they were true brethren. The normal stoicism of the Telgradian was lost here, as Vaan Osiris’ nostrils flared and eyes widened. Like a wolf, his lips curled back in a snare of horror and rage, the brilliant warrior trying and failing to repress his visual fury.

This will ruin Shinsou if he doesn’t process it. I know the path of that type of loss handled poorly… that way lies darkness.

Interesting, the peculiar little General seemed to be taking in the information in a manner that seemed very procedural. Almost devoid of visual cues, she assayed the area for information, appearing to mentally document each and every element in a smooth, systematic fashion. Storm could avert his eyes from the grotesque display to steal a long glance at her.

Heh. Maybe one of us can keep their shit together.

The question lingered; it was obvious but needed a voice.

“Mephisto… how did he get out?”

The peach tint in Shinsou's balled fists drained to white as his fingers clenched inwards; the fingernails carving purple, bruised crescents into the skin, such was the force of his rage. It was completely uncharacteristic of the Telgradian to lose his cool, but now he had simply had enough. Arius had out-thought and out-run them at almost every opportunity, despite the Brotherhood's best efforts, and now the wily little shit had done it again. Canen Darkflight was nothing more than a crumpled, smouldering heap of flesh in the centre of a Brotherhood detention block, and for all of their collective power and abilities no-one, including Shinsou, could have done anything to prevent it.

Storm's question was pertinent but almost now irrelevant. Even so, the Telgradian felt he had to state the obvious.

"I have no idea, Storm. No idea at all. And I don't know where he is now, because I can't sense him anymore." The tone of the reply contained notes of anger and resignation. Mephisto was in their complex, in their home, and no-one amongst them could do a fucking thing about it. Even the so-called Thayne of Time seemed utterly unhelpful, whether by design or simply because even his powers were in some way limited. How many more would be torn apart by this unseen force, like Canen? Would he just hop from man-to-man like a virus in the township until there was no-one left?

The concern suddenly sparked to life the beginnings of an idea. Canen had mentioned that Arius's own body had crumbled, and that he was likely looking for a suitable replacement. Whilst Canen's own body clearly did little to sate his appetite, there were only three other suitable candidates amongst the Brotherhood who could serve as a vessel for Arius. Finding a new host had to be the reason Mephisto had come here, for what other reason could the dark wizard have for loitering amongst his enemies?

Shinsou looked down at his feet, hands on his hips, whilst Felicity and Storm raged in debate behind him.

"Storm, Felicity, we have to contain this. I think he's searching for a new body; something powerful. Canen mentioned this to us in my study, so why else would Arius be here?" The Telgradian's eyes flitted between Felicity and Storm. Whilst the redhead was still getting to know him and was none the wiser to where he was going with this, the ageing wizard could already tell what Shinsou was thinking. Osiris held an apologetic hand up to his friend, already aware of the reaction he would get.

"It's either me, you or the kid. The shit that Arius has brought down on Corone, on us, is on me. I recruited him. Makes sense that I be the one to put that right."

"What?" Felicity suddenly cottoned on, raising her head towards Shinsou sharply. "Shinsou, you-"

"Look," The Telgradian interrupted, "In the absence of a better idea, I'm going to offer him a deal, out in the open. The contract is that he gets my body, you two live and he walks out of here. But here's the thing; once he's in one place, in one vessel, you get him and put an end to all this."

Flickering whites in the electromancer's eyes told of his utter disapproval of the plan, but deep beneath Shinsou felt that even his best friend knew this was the best way.

"...You know it, and I know it. We have to finish it."

The Telgradian walked to his friend, clasping a hand on his shoulder to reassure him, despite not even being sure himself whether the plan would work or not, or whether they would even accept his proposal. Their eyes met one more time.

"No-one wanted this, but me and you both know that this only ever ends one other way. We can't give away the whole store to save one guy, and I'm done with us all doing our best work after the fact. This is the best way; get him in one place, then drop the weight of the Brotherhood on this motherfucker once and for all."

Dreadful foreboding overcame her being as Shinsou dared to suggest what he just did. Dumb with shock, Felicity stood there, silent, as Shinsou turned to walk out of the door.

No...

Images of a her cousin, brother, being cut down before her eyes flickered as if a reality.

No...

The message of her uncle dying from a stroke, alone, rang in her ears.

"No-"

Tears streaked down her face as her heart rate soared. "Not- agai-"

Her breathing grew rapid, heavy, as her chest pounded in growing pain. She hardly recognized the physical ache compared to the agony inside, however. Numb to the body decaying before her, her lips parted in a desperate attempt to pull in air. Inside, oh, it was happening again. Again. Someone she cared for was...

Her tears fell to the stone floor, pounding like rain. Steady anger rose in defense, Shinsou's footsteps growing fainter as she managed to pull in a gust of air between her panting. She turned, like that, and grasped his arm so intensely, one of the sleeves shredded. She knew not of that, however, as she screamed.

"No!"

The man stopped, silent. Did he watch her? Did he face the door? As she looked to the ground, vision growing strange in color, her breathing ramped up again. Rambled, panicked words tumbled from her mouth in a distorted manner.

"No- o- not- again- again not, a-"

Thu-thud!

A loud gasp was emitted as a hand grasped at her heart. This pain was so severe, the throb turned into something unbearable. This was the girl who could survive her lungs being torn from her frame. Yet, she fell to her knees, still clasping the white sleeve of Shinsou's coat. All light was hostile as her body throttled out of control, the panic inside overtaking her core. The full weight of a psychological disorder, one of extreme anxiety, pounded her into a pit of terror. Not again... not again... She could not lose someone again...

"You have more potential than I think you realize. I want to help, if I can. What do you say, Felicity?"

She had assumed the fetal position on the floor. Unresponsive.

She did not even realize that she sensed a sudden, fourth magical presence in the room...

~~~

Should I aid them? The Great Ones told me not to mettle, yet this is spiraling too fast... if Felicity losses...

... I feel her ache like it is my own. - Mother, I am no longer cold.

Mother... I may have to disobey you. I am sorry.

Plans. Always great on paper, and then they make good kindling when shit hits the fan.

Shinsou had moved forward with an idea that had made plenty of sense. It stood to reason that Mephisto was trying to occupy a powerful entity, if the bald-headed incarnation had grown old, weary, or tired to him. Perhaps the incredibly powerful entity had taken Canen Darkflight for a test-drive, or used him as a mole to gain closer access to the Brotherhood. It then followed logically that the entity of what they knew Arius to be simply jumped ship from Canen to some poor sap guard that found himself in the bowels of the stone keep, and said guard served as a fairly anonymous escape hatch. This would have left the wreckage of flesh that lay before them, but also more questions than answers.

How does he move from body to body?

What was wrong with Canen’s body?

Why should we trust the word of the lump of rotting flesh, knowing full well that it was cohabitated by a time-traveling wizard with a hard-on to kill the Brotherhood?

Again, the lack of rules or understanding of what boundaries existed bothered Storm Veritas, who had attained near godly power within the known perimeters of Althanas. He merely wished to rule alongside the equally reckonable Shinsou, the tandem well complimented in leading this faction with tremendously powerful monster-people like Hayate and now this Felicity character. Naturally, it could all be torn asunder in a snap should Mephisto’s reach and abilities be as overpowering as he suspected. As such, there was no harm in humoring Vaan Osiris for his heroic and selfless gesture; it was a shot in the dark no worse than what the electromancer could create from whole cloth.

Storm had conjured an acceptably disapproving glare for the plan as the Telgradian explained it, fully aware that a quick and acquiescent approval would be entirely off-brand for the salty old bastard that Veritas had come to be known for. Mentally, he half-listened to the instructions of his dear friend, planning to push back upon the plan gently to show sufficient concern and respect for the man who’d saved him many times.

…and, should by some miracle you’re actually right and Mephisto is out body shopping, one peek at my lungs and liver will send Arius bouncing out for a fresh start instantly. Maybe we can make him stick in Shinsou long enough to fry the bastard.

Would that even work!?

In the cell, the hush monotone of Shinsou’s very serious planning had gone uninterrupted for too long. The stout young prodigy named Felicity then delicately made her way to the ground like a bag of rocks, yelling defiantly into the void in protest of a voice that none could hear.

This development went over poorly.

…and she’d DEFINITELY not fucking crazy.

Curling into a ball, she appeared to be catatonic; a possum dead by the horse-cart.

…hell of a hire, Shinsou. She’s clearly cut out for this intensive, high-stakes work.

Candles still painting her face flickers of gold and scarlet with their dancing licks, the girl was reduced to a rag doll on the floor, alive in perpetuity but devoid of changing expression or nuance.

“A big part of your plan, this radiation? Should I wheel her out behind you like luggage, or can you carry her in a fucking backpack?” Storm’s voice was beginning to hiss as his frustration and exasperation bubbled to the surface. He knelt to check for a pulse and breath, finding both strong, but he remained confused and irritated by her apparent seizure.

“I trust you, but I certainly don’t trust… well… that” the wizard explained, gesturing to the still decomposing heap of Darkflight. “Whatever he told you and two crowns are worth enough to buy a copy of The Radasanth Reader. How can we trust his word, when we suspect he was… you know… fucking infested with whatever we guess Mephisto is bouncing around as?!”

Sizzle cracks whispered echoes up from the prison cell harmlessly to the world above as the mage’s fingers pulsed with involuntary energy. Shinsou began to push back a bit, an assertive yet balanced voice against the growing rage.

“In the absence of a perfect plan, we go with what we can best understand. If you have better intel, then we’re certainly all ears.” It was a clever trap, playing into the arrogant wizard’s desire to be the smartest man in any room, when he was clearly at times the dumbest one in an outhouse.

This silenced Storm Veritas for a moment as he paced, careful not to step on the rotting carcass of Shinsou’s friend nor the motionless lump of Felicity. His frustration continued to sizzle within him, flaring his nostrils and sending shivers of electricity down his spine.

“Well, ‘perfect’ may be unattainable, but I need a little more evidence before I commit to sacrificing you. We still don’t know the gods-damned rules, about who or where he is, what body he occupies, or what he’s planning. We aren’t worth half a shit for predicting his next move, so I say we go offensive with what we can do…”

A maniacal fire was burning within Storm now, as he envisioned closing the gates of Whitevale and killing every soul within its woody walls. The Brotherhood’s magic was capable, and execution very much within the scope of his scheming. It was a terrible thing, but a lost city could save the world if it brought an end to Arius Mephisto’s anonymous reign of terror.

Fortunately for the high-wire act that was Storm’s psyche, and the health of all Whitevale, a fourth entity lingered silently, unseen about them.

Arius Mephisto's strategy was working.

Sure, things hadn't gone exactly to plan up until now. Since Tylmerande, his original bald headed vessel had succombed to illness, and in order to preserve his existence Arius had been jumping from body to body relentlessly since then. Each one had varying levels of longetivity, but the ethereal being theorised that most mortal bodies were unable to handle his spirit and were decaying at a concerning rate. The constant body-switching was frustrating but it had worked to his advantage, keeping the Brotherhood on the back foot and allowing him to get in close to his enemies.

Canen's body was no different than the others, and had been a waste of time as far as its suitability was concerned, but the distraction of his death had created enough of a window of opportunity to dive into a guard and escape before his pursuers could notice. During his time in the complex, it had not escaped his notice that the yound redheaded girl accompanying Shinsou and Storm had a summoned a wildcard; some sort of Althanian deity, or a close approximation of one.

One with a physical body.

The possessed, armour clad militiaman his spirit now occupied cast his gaze over the bastion of the Brotherhood from atop the church's spire. A dark sky loomed over Whitevale now, with rain falling in sheets. It spattered atop the massive bell tower of the abandoned that stood in in the town's centre, running in rivers down its carved troughs.

Arius sat, perched on the bell tower's ledge westernmost ledge, reflecting on how best to now execute his plan. This new body smelled of shit and stale sweat, but was simply a stop-gap. By his own admission, Shinsou had been his first choice, though there were more powerful bodies he could have taken. Storm Veritas, for example, had shown exceptional power and athleticism, but his age and condition ruled him out as a long term option. Philomel van der Aart had been another candidate, but her unusual biology and the complexity of her connection to the spirit fox she called Veridian would have made the possession impossible to maintain. The one called Felicity Rhyolite would be too incompatible. She was unstable, both in terms of psychology and the nature of her magic.

Shinsou, however, ticked a lot of boxes. His time with the Telgradian meant he had studied him thoroughly, learning his abilities and his weaknesses. Osiris was still young at thirty four, had an ideal physiology and commanded powers that were similar to his own. Furthermore, he had put himself in a position of power at the head of Corone's most notorious paramilitary organisation, and had resources to spare.

Well, the ones Arius hadn't syphoned off.

But that was all before the appearance of this Thayne, the perfect choice.

Gweneal.

A door at the end of the bell tower creaked open in the wind as the madman in Whitevale uniform got himself to his feet. Time was not on his side, so it was vital that he got his prey exactly where he wanted them.

The powerful wizard closed his eyes and concentrated. The telepathic thought he had prepared would carry far enough to reach Osiris, and he knew that the Telgradian had no wards in place to prevent this communication, nor work out the source of it. Two years was a long enough time to find these nuances out.

I've been waiting for this day, Shinsou. I've watched you work, come to understand your motivations, but beneath your mask of logic I sense a fragility. Even with all of your power, all of your resources, you've been unable to overcome me. Yet, I can't kill you. You and I are bound together on a journey that will twist the very fabric of nature. If you want to find me, widen your gaze to the that which makes time stand still for all of Whitevale. Only when you have done this will I reveal myself to you.

***

Shinsou hesitated as Felicity collapsed in a PTSD fuelled episode, almost unresponsive, as he had hammered out his plan. He had seen her have bad turns before, but she had never done it in front of Storm before and the Telgradian cringed as his eyes caught the electromancer's furious gaze.

There was no time, though, to make comment or to assist her. With a distant look of worry in his eyes, Shinsou could suddenly hear the words of his tormentor. There was no choice but to let Arius speak with him. Unlacing his folded arms and calming his rage, Storm picked up on his friend's sudden unease.

"What?" The electromancer asked.

"It's him. He's talking to me. I can't stop him from doing it." Shinsou stepped out into the hall from the cramped cell, holding his head. "He said if we want to find him, we need to widen our gaze to that which makes time stand still for all of Whitevale. He'll show himself once we've done that."

The Telgradian kneeled down next to Felicity, trying to get the dead weight to her feet, as Storm planned his retort.

"Great, more fucking riddles. Is he talking about a place? Where does time stand still here?" Storm predictably smarted, "He could be talking about anywhere, or he could be just trying to fuck with us while he makes his escape. We've got nothing."

"Not where, but who." Shinsou replied, attempting to shoulder the redhead. "I think he's noticed Gweneal, which means he's watching us from wherever he is. The riddle implies that he knows that Gweneal is the Thayne of Time..."

Storm turned to look at Shinsou. As the rain hammered the roof of the detention block, Shinsou's eyes swivelled to the fourth entity in the room.

"...and the Thayne of Time would be my top pick for a new body."

The situation was dire. Too dire. He knew for a fact that things had gone too far, and this was his moment.

"Yes, he has."

From the entrance of the room, he walked in. In a white cloak, the young Thayne steadily knelt down to Shinsou and Felicity. He extended his hand, and Felicity started to glow in a strange light. Gwenael looked straight at Shinsou, speaking.

"That is my plan."

As the ten million stars in his eyes glimmered, he narrowed his eyes. "I dare not speak my complete doubts aloud, but you saw a Great One fall at the feet of a Lesser. We are all fallible."

Gwenael turned his gaze to Storm Veritas, the furious man who he quite frankly did not like. "I forsake the rules, this once, to put this matter to rest. This man has long evaded justice..."

He turned to Felicity again. The girl's panting was slowed to steady breathing. As she opened her red eyes, the light grew dim and she stirred.

Gwenael peered into her mind, speaking to her while he spoke aloud. "I have a plan. Arius is a dangerous man, even for a mortal. But I know what to do."

"I slowed your perception of time. It has only been several seconds, but it has been long enough for you. I still sense your anxiety."

"If I speak it aloud, he will hear what I have to say and attempt to thwart it. He is shrewd. I may be able to dance circles around him, but it will take something special to cast his spirit to Jomil's judgement." Gwenael stood up, his being starting to flicker in a golden white aura. His Thaynehood was increasingly obvious as the cloak slowly dissipated into nothing, replaced by the wings of a snow owl. Of course, his demeanor was different as well. He was assertive. He was in control.

"Steady yourself. This is about more than you. If you refuse to face your fears in the face of something bigger, what are you? A coward."

Felicity gasped as visible emotion flooded her eyes, still leaned against Shinsou. Gwenael's gaze only flickered to her for a moment before his returned to the steady gazes to the Brotherhood leaders.

"He means to set a trap at the clock tower. Shall we spring it?"

His legs morphed. Powerful talons gripped the stone floor as his hair grew longer, down to his waistline. "I know you feel immeasurable pain. I know it is not always controllable, I get that. But how short sighted can you be when your own desires come first, before the task?"

As Gwenael turned to face the door, Felicity cast her gaze to the floor, tears flooding her eyes. "I’m-"

"-Don't say it." Gwenael spat. "You have felt enough shame to fill N'jal's void with. No. Learn. Don't dwell. Be free. And leave the rest of this mess to me."

Gwenael turned to the trio, a small smile on his ethereal face. "You all leave it to me." "Even you, Veritas. I know you are enraged. Do not let your personal desire for revenge ruin this."

All at once, the arc of Shinsou’s long con seemed to emerge for the wizard. Felicity, the bold, aspirational young general, had been a bit of bait-and-switch. When the chips were down, she had collapsed in a heap, too small for the moment. With her fall came the rise of a god, the dismissive, arrogant Thayne they had come to learn was “Gwenael”.

That’s a hell of a buy one, get one sale, Telgradian. I guess your recruiting still has a pretty fucking good eye.

It was obvious to Storm that if any were able to fall the spectral, body-shifting time wizard they had come to hate as Arius Mephisto, it would be this winged deity. The object of the immortal’s ire, Storm Veritas felt a very unique concoction of awe and apathy fill his empty stomach.

Gwenael kills Arius. Arius kills Gwenael. Win-fucking-win in my book. The only hand we can’t play is having Arius take Gwenael’s body; that’s a trump card that leaves us all screwed.

Turning his eyes to the girl, he saw sadness and pity. She was brave, and bold, and overwhelmed by the moment. She leaned into Shinsou for support, both physical and emotional. This battle was neither her fault nor her responsibility, but she seemed completely exhausted. Shinsou, on the other hand, seemed positively radiant next to the wretched pile of pulp that Canen was disintegrating to, and far more stable than the fledgling heroine. Speaking with a sharp, decisive tongue, the wizard addressed his two fellow Brotherhood elite.

“Gwenael is our ticket, but if Arius takes his form, all is beyond lost. Again, we’ve got no playbook, but if I had the ability to assume a form, a Thayne sounds like a pretty good god-damned bet. Saddle up, we need to fly.”

Gwenael was gone, having flown up the central pit that they had traveled down, a stony cylinder marked by dense, spiraling stone stairs. Listening to the clicking of his metal-soled shoes upon the granite beneath him, the wizard sent a light pulse below him, the electromagnetic burst effortlessly hoisting him upward.

They’ll catch up. Can’t wait at this point. Not letting the diva-god fuck this up on us all.

Smooth and powerful, Storm flew out of the prison, landing at the top step and resetting his cuff-links and dress shirt to tuck neatly into the pants. Fingers combing his silvery hair, the wizard exited the holding area on foot, briskly walking into the windowed amphitheater atop the prison. Slivers of the sharp sun sprayed in through windows, and in the bleached, sunlit air the dust danced in a thick and random waltz. His eyes adjusted from wide to razor slits; the warm air greeting him with a punch. Exasperated gazes of two guards affirmed that Gwenael had just passed by; you don’t see a Thayne every day.

“Sir, the clocktower…” A dumbfounded young knight pointed to the open door, stammering his speech as he attempted to explain that which he must not have just seen.

“Good, got it. I’ll take care of it. Send help downstairs, to Shinsou and the girl. They’ll need water, and maybe first aid.” Storm stopped, smirking a bit at the absurdity of it all.

“And send a second envoy down with a mop and bucket. Someone with a strong stomach.”

Fucking Whitevale.

The door was held open for him by a dutiful guard, a thirty-something young man with a shaved head and bright eyes. It was fear behind them, but he soldiered on. Storm knew the feeling. The two exchanged nods as the magician marched past with focus and a predatory look.

He heard the shuffling behind him; Shinsou and Felicity were on the way. There was no time to wait; Gwenael hadn’t and Arius wouldn’t. Storm took one step out of the building and aimed at the clocktower, pushing his weight forward before launching himself into a long, magnetic-propelled flight.

It was time for Arius Mephisto to die.

Shinsou could do nothing but watch on as the lean electromancer's impatience got the better of him. For an older man, Storm's footwork was surprisingly sharp. His leaps and bounds up the spiralling staircase to Whitevale's surface were crisp and precise. Augmented by that mighty electrical power he was so feared for, it was a matter of seconds before his friend had reached the parapet and was out of sight.

For fuck's sake. Let's hope Arius isn't counting on you and Gweneal turning up alone, or we're all fucked.

The Telgradian turned his attention to Felicity, sliding an arm under hers to shoulder her weight. Her PTSD had gotten the best of her. There was no doubt that this moment of weakness hadn't escaped Veritas's unforgiving eyes, but there were bigger issues at hand now. Therapy would have to wait.

"Try and walk, Felicity" Shinsou insisted as they made their way up the stone stairs, "We're in a world of trouble if we get to the top like this and Arius has already dealt with that hot-head."

Progress was agonisingly slow. Every now and then he turned his eyes to the girl, seeing what Storm had already seen. Sadness and pity beyond oblivion as the pair limped halfway home. The girl slumped half across his shoulder almost made a mockery of the Felicity Rhyolite he had fought in the Citadel, the one that had given him such trouble that he had to assume his final form. The Telgradian would have been lying to himself if he said he wasn't now questioning his decision to promote her, but he knew that everything was perfect in hindsight.

Easy to assess everything after the fact, though, isn't it? Got to get some semblence of you back in the game here, Fel. Work with me.

"Felicity, listen to me."

They stopped on the stair that exactly made the halfway mark between the lower prison level and the entrance at Whitevale's level above. Shinsou, with determination in his shining golden eyes, swivelled the young girl round, placed two hands on her shoulders and looked her dead in the eye.

"Right now I need you to think. This isn't about the past, or what we've all lost, way back when. Right now, this is about what we have left. If Arius gets his hands on Gweneal, it's over. All of it, as we know it, gone. I don't know if he can, or whether it's even really his plan, but we have to assume that's what is going through his mind. You can put a pin in it right now, we all can. But we have to get there, and get there soon."

Felicity looked almost gone, her eyes cast to the granite beneath her feet, having submitted to her emotions. The Telgradian lifted her chin with his free hand until their gaze met.

"Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me. I didn't recruit you because I didn't believe in what you can do. I don't bring losers to Whitevale. You know what Storm thinks? He thinks you're weak, that you can't handle this gig. He's probably questioning my judgment. There's nothing more I love in this world than proving that wise-ass wrong, and he is. He can't see what I saw. I want you to go up there and show him the strength that brought me to my knees."

The Telgradian hated speeches, especially admist a time-sensitive crisis, but he could think of no other way to motivate his charge. Slowly, the red headed girl absorbed his words. Shinsou had no idea what she was thinking and was three seconds away from fireman lifting his apprentice up the coiling staircase when some fire returned to her eyes. Nodding slowly, as if understanding the universe for the first time, her voice finally regained some density.

"Let's go."

With an affirmative nod, Shinsou righted the girl and flew out of the blocks, sprinting until the spiral ran out of stairs and they were once again level with the town of Whitevale. The pair left the holding area with urgency and bolted through the same windowed amphitheater Storm had passed through what now seemed like hours ago, the disturbed wisps of dust ionised from the electromancer's passing.

Shinsou eyes swivelled straight to the clock tower as he hit the outdoors.

No sign of Storm. Judging from his life force, he's near the tower. I can't sense that piece of shit Arius, though-

His thought was cut off dead as a sphere of crimson energy balled into the back of his head, and his legs gave way underneath him, crumpling like burning paper. As he skidded a few yards over the gravel, blood pouring from his mouth, the dazed Telgradian heard an all too familiar voice lording over him.

"All too easy."

The Telgradian bit his bloodied lip as the pulsating life force swelled in his belly. It was him. Arius was right there, apparantly inside the body of one of Whitevale's guards. Slowly, he pulled apart the armour he wore, each piece dropping to the floor with a clang. Gasping for breath, the spellsword glared through wincing eyes at his oppressor as Felicity stood frozen.

Without warning, a magnesium-white flare burst into existence from Arius’s free hand, and the resulting shockwave sent the bewildered redhead crashing to the floor beside her injured leader.

"I think it's better if you all stay on the floor." The megalomaniacal usurper suggested, turning now to his nemesis. "Surprised to see me, Shinsou? It's been a good while, although you probably barely remember our last meeting. If you're wondering, it only took mere moments to conjure a portal from the tower to here. I was counting on one of you to dive in without thinking and take the bait. No surprise who bit first, obviously."

Arius walked up to Shinsou, swiftly bringing his boot down on the man's ribs. There was a loud crack as the Telgradian's ribs buckled under the weight of the rubber and steel. The Telgradian wheezed, spitting a gobulet of blood on the dusty Whitevale stone.

"Storm's on his way to the clock tower now, expecting to run into me. When he gets to the top, well...let's just say for his efforts he's earned a vacation somewhere warm. Like Fallien's glasslands, perhaps. A one-way portal to a very permanent exile."

As the sun cast its heat on the blood that had spilled, Arius revelled. He had divided, and now all that was left to do was to conquer.

Weak.

She remembered clearly how weak she had always been. Powerless against the abusive forces that pushed and shoved her around. She was always the weak one, protected by her high strung cousin and cool headed uncle until they died; leaving her alone.

Weak.

"Pathetic." The memory of a cloaked woman flooded her mind. "Getting laughed out of the Ranger's initiation grounds like that. You're weak. You remind me of myself when I was your age, a loser. Let me teach you to be strong."

But Felicity never learned how to be. She was still weak at her old teacher's harsh hands as well. She was a stark contrast to her new mentor, who now...

"Ack!"

A cruel, twisted man shoved his boot deeper into Shinsou’s rib. Shinsou choked, bubbling blood visible against his pale lips. Glued to the ground by a strange magic, lying in pain nearby, memories swirled in Felicity's mind. The old ones meshed with the new ones, and this very Telgradian's words echoed stronger than the rest. The past was knocking on her door, ready to break in again. Take her loved ones again. Arius was after Gwenael, her dear friend, and wanted to possess him as his own body.

Not again...

Felicity panted, the pain from Arius’s attack holding her down. Arius lifted his boot and rammed it into his victim's side. Shinsou cried out as Arius's face glowed in sick pleasure, "I've been waiting for this, Shinsou!"

Felicity winced, his pain visible as anger swelled inside. How dare he... How dare this man just waltz into her life and attack her mentor like that? One of the select few people who ever believed in her?

Not again...

The past was knocking on her door. But the past was behind her. Now, she was not the same weakling her old mentor took in out of pity. Shinsou said it himself, he did not bring a loser to Whitevale.

She was not weak anymore.

Not again!

Pinned to the ground, unable to lift a finger, Felicity bit down on her lip instead. As the taste of iron blood could be tasted on her lips, the pain dissipated. Bolstered with new strength, the anger she felt towards Arius was bolstered as well. With unnatural strength, she bolted from her place on the ground as radiation poisoning caused Arius and Shinsou both to wince in sickness. With the sudden advantage, Felicity landed a solid punch on the off guard mage. Several teeth flew from his mouth as blood pooled from his broken jaw. He cried out as he backed off by several paces, Felicity advanced. As Shinsou struggled to recover from that beating, Felicity squared off the dark mage. She burned with the dark energy of rage. How dare he! How dare this bald maniac threaten her master! Arius looked back at her, anger visible in his eyes. Yet, oh, Felicity's anger was far worse.

"Leave him alone!" All the passion, love for the man who had given her purpose again, was made known through the enraged scream. As pain returned to Felicity's body, a strange ringing throb, she ignored it. This was the girl who brought Shinsou Vaan Osiris to his knees in the Citadel. This was the girl who would give her life to prevent any more loved ones from perishing.

She drew her sword and charged at him. Still stunned that the girl was standing after his attack, Arius flung another bolt of magic at her, but she side stepped in a dodge. She raised her sword, ready to strike, when a second bolt landed on her chest again. She was flung back again. Her sword slid across the stone floor in a smooth slide as she rolled with a series of grunts. After she stopped, hair covering her face, she looked up again, shaking.

"Stay out of this, girl!" Arius shouted, "This is my hour!" He turned his face to the Telgradian still bleeding on the floor.

Protective instinct overcame the magical pain echoing off her bones. Felicity got up and darted towards him again, "Fat chance!"

Another magical beam. Felicity was knocked against the wall as the oppressor sighed, exasperated. Eyes exhausted by all these petty interruptions, he wiped the blood from his chin. "It seems I must deal with you first, child. I am clearly out of your league. My machinations are beyond your stopping."

Felicity was hung to the wall by some sort of telepathic force. Indeed, he was beyond her power. But she was not weak. All she needed was to hold him until the others arrived.

"This isn't about the past, or what we've all lost, way back when. Right now, this is about what we have left."

Felicity winced as Arius walked closer, applying more invisible force to her frame. The pressure was insane, her head felt ready to explode in the ringing. Still, she kept herself breathing as he sneered.

"I want you to go up there and show him the strength that brought me to my knees."

Shinsou was counting on her.

She was strong.

Felicity grunted, unable to lift her head as Arius walked up to her. He brought a knee to her rib, causing blunt force to explode. Yet, as Felicity winced, she kept her eyes locked past Arius, to her mentor.

Shinsou believed in her. He was one of the first to. That was all the drive she needed. The man who brought her in, taught her, promoted her to a position of importance, and truly believed in her capabilities. She smiled, looked down to Arius with a slight wince as he brought his boot to her chest. Paralyzed she was, but it did not stop her from smirking.

"Go ahead," She spat, "Break me down, bury my face in the hard floor." Her face twisted as he brought his hand up and punched her gut. It barely phased her. "I'm stronger than stone, can endure until I'm ground to literal dust. Every time you hit me, it makes me stronger."

She locked eyes with the power tripping mage, glaring with intensity of ten thousand suns, "I still won't let you kill my mentor and take my town!" She gritted her teeth as he slammed his knee into her side again. She fought on. "I won't give into a demon, a monster, like you! Every time you even bat an eye towards Shinsou, I'll stand in the way again! So go ahead! Try to stop me!"

Felicity understood she was in for a world of pain. She could take it. Infuriated that some strange little girl stood between him and his prize, Arius stopped talking and started to beat her to his heart's content. A rapid series of punches and hits were unblockable as her limbs were forced against the wall by his magic. He hoped to knock her out, force her to exhaustion. However, Felicity's bones were strong like steel, and her body could take more punishment than ten men together could bear. All she had to do was keep this bald bully content until Gwenael and Storm arrived. Knowing Gwenael, she knew her pain would alarm him of the enemy's location.

Shinsou! Felicity thought of her leader as she squeaked from a punch in the face, Stay back, don't grab his attention again! I got him!

The torture continued, but she took it with as much dignity as she could muster. He may have had her beaten, but she was still strong. Arius would not have the pleasure of watching her crumple so easily. Even with tears in her eyes, even with rapid bruising spreading across her body, she smirked. Every time she bled, she had temporary relief. It was enough to spit at him and cause him to hit her harder, resisting the radiation poisoning that turned on and off. He learned to avoid making contact with the blood dripping from her leaps as her chest heaved in effort. The more she endured, the more he tried to wound her. Soon, enough, her magical affinity perked as he started flinging harmful magic as her body. Choking, Felicity clung to consciousness as she reminded herself that help would soon come. She repeated the name of her guardian in her mind until he came.

Gwenael. Gwenael, Get over here!

She refused to break, even if this was the worst pain she felt in her life - far worse than when her old teacher beat her for the slightest wrong step. She finally started to cry in pain as she felt magical energy strip her stamina from her muscular frame. No! Keep going, Felicity! Figh- Gwenael!

The world moved before him in a blur, as each footfall led to an increased degree of hostility. He was steeled by each step, more confident and committed to the notion of killing Arius. Shinsou and Felicity and the Thayne all had incredible power, but also introduced their own new vessel for the evil time mage to assume. The only way that Storm Veritas could guarantee the form would be isolated would be to face him alone; perhaps better still he rationed this wise as only his magics had near-infinite speed. In the absence of time manipulation, preposterous speed was what he figured to be their best bet.

No distractions. No hesitations. No mercy. Keep it simple; you see him, you confirm it’s him, and flash fry him with every possible droplet of your power. He dies today; this ends today.

The wizard moved with a motivated gait but without running; his mind fixed on scenarios that could transpire as small currents of dust rose and fell silently by him. The fresh air was a welcome replacement, his mind clearing of the muddled scents of death as he considered the iterations of what lie before him.

All or nothing. If it means destroying the clocktower, all of Whitevale… hell, all of Corone… it’s got to happen. He’ll keep bouncing around countries and islands, killing thousands, taking new forms, overthrowing governments.

There’s just no one else to stop him.

Leaving the sun for the cold threshold of the clocktower, Storm’s footfalls once again reverberated in the small, stone building. The large church was a connected but fully standalone structure from the tower, a tall, narrow passage with thin cut windows lining the stairs that spiraled northward. The aging electromancer effortlessly strode up the stairs near the outer wall; a careless footfall would be such an anticlimactic end to this arc. A voice from above ushered down.

“You’ve come for me alone, old man? Your form is disinteresting; there’s still time for you to turn around.”

The taunts of the voice above confirmed that Arius was waiting. Storm stop to catch his breath, settling the anger that reflexively quickened his heartbeat. There were so many options here; the notion of pulling the tower down from below dawned on him. Still; he had to see Arius die, in whatever form he existed in. Simply assuming the most powerful entity he had ever encountered would not survive a cave-in felt a fool’s errand.

Or maybe fly up, catch him by surprise?

This notion rose two tendrils of doubt in the experienced adventurer. He had suspended his own disbelief into thinking that he was fast enough to hit Arius with lightning; as fast as lightning traveled, it was still decidedly not instantaneous, and therefore could be too slow for the monster awaiting him. Nevertheless, as “slow” as lightning was, his flight was little more than directionally surprising. No; Arius had wanted him here; the wizard would otherwise have either fled or attacked by now.

As many insults filled his mind, Veritas bit his tongue and soldiered forward. The door before him at the top of the stairs shielded the gears of the working clock, as well as the wizard who had filled his life with so much dread. Arius was responsible for the fall of Tylermande; the attack on Shinsou. He had created insurrection in Whitevale, and killed Canen, stunning Felicity in the meanwhile. His time to die was overdue.

Deep breaths. Be ready. Be charged.

Storm reached forward, glancing down quickly at over eighty feet of vertical drop. He’d love to sling Arius’s carcass down this cavern, to see how long the final vessel’s bits would scatter. He turned the knob slowly, announcing his presence.

“Kind of you to wait for an old man, sorry for the present I’ve…”

There was no clocktower gear room. There were no large metal cogs, nor nefarious wizard. There was merely a single black oval, with a pink eye glowing behind it. The eye began to close as Storm gazed upon it, feeling his body pulled through the narrow aperture of the doorway and into the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lights came back without pain, a sun shining down upon his body as he rose from the dust. The soil was red, a clay like consistency, and the sun pushed down through clouds with frustration, unable to break free.

No!

Disbelief. His eyes shot about, noticing the scorched earth he slowly struggled to rise from. His body ached, not of injury but rather of something more like atrophy; a weakness he could not subscribe a specific point to. About him, black broken tree trunks scattered the surface of the bumpy area; large deciduous trees laying about in charred pieces. There were fragments of life existing in the soil; dark brown grasses that thrived and an odor of sulfur that dominated the area. He had been to this place before, and it was unmistakable. It was confirmation that all was lost.

It was Raiaera.

Arius had ridden roughshod over the Brotherhood, but more than that he had embarrassed all of them. In a few short weeks, Mephisto's scheming and counterplotting had eroded them from being the one major obstacle in his path to little more than a dirt track beneath the wheels of his well oiled machinations. Each pained gasp from the Telgradian, each groan of pain from the young Felicity Rhylolite and each moment that passed without Storm Veritas was just another paving slab in the road to unopposed rule, and the warlock savoured it with every kick and every punch. Arius was so ahead of himself, so sure of his victory that he wasn't even relying on his magic to maim anymore; a final, unbearable insult.

As the Telgradian looked up through blurred vision, past the crimson band of his own blood, he watched as the man he hated most cultivated a world of pain for his apprentice. A swiftly flowing stream of blows rained down before he finally reverted to magic again; a sign that he was ramping up the assault and getting serious. Felicity was dangerous when cornered, but even though she was smirking through the blows and absorbing as much punishment as her body could take, there were only flickers of her power and no sign of a full activation of her beserker magic.

His heart sank at the realisation of his foolishness. She had been his closing gambit. Gweneal himself seemed to be reluctant to interfere, or otherwise unable. Clenching a fistful of dirt, he cursed to himself as he pilated to his knees, crushing the blood-soaked grains of sand within his grasp in anger. Shinsou had been terribly naive, putting such pressure on her, believing that her unrefined abilities would come out of nowhere to save them all. Storm's sudden disappearance now signalled the worst case scenario for the Telgradian. Now because of him both his best friend and his apprentice, the two people who looked to him and trusted him, had been failed by his poor judgment.

It was too much.

With a roar of anger, Shinsou slammed his knuckles into the ground and ground the dirt beneath into pits. A surge of adrenaline shot through his pained chassis and, drawing upon every last drop of energy available to him, the Telgradian righted himself.

His head lifted to bring his eyes up to Arius, who had now paused his brutal assault on Felicity to gaze upon the broken man he had floored moments ago. As he stood, seething and as if lifted by the Thayne themselves, thoughts raced through his mind. All this time, Shinsou had been counting on everyone else to come up with a solution. Storm, with his mighty power. Felicity, with her unlimited potential. But what about Shinsou? What about all of the terrifying power at his disposal? Yes, Arius was almost beyond the pale, but had the Telgradian really ever used the extent of his abilities? The years of pain, of struggle, of suffering that he had endured to ascend to this point were telling, but he had never once let it all go in the name of anything. Not once; not against Felicity in the Citadel, not against Storm in Radasanth all that time ago. Why was he holding back, still, when he could still end this?

…because you’re scared of becoming something like Arius, aren’t you? Some power mad, bitter old man with a huge chip on your shoulder. Scared you’ll be hated again here like on Telgradia. You fucking idiot. You’ll never be him. You’ll never be anything if you don’t stop him here. You owe it to Storm and Felicity, and everyone in the Brotherhood and beyond to annihilate this cunt once and for all. You owe it to yourself. Stop holding back.

As the Telgradian reconciled with himself, he quickly rose his right hand parallel to his shoulder. It flirted with the air before violently tearing the powerful Enpera from its otherworldly sheath, a rift of dark matter conjured from a well of his shadow sorcery. Earthly scents of damp rock and cold electricity mingled in the air about Shinsou as the surroundings simply held their breath.

“Break, Enpera!”

The resulting snap resounded loudly enough to drive away the birds in the trees outside of Whitevale’s perimeter wall. A multihued shockwave of latent energy from the release of his sword’s seal sucked up an ever-shifting cloud of dust and stone and dumped it over an onlooking Arius Mephisto. Felicity used the window to roll out of the way, stunned at the sudden occurance. Immediately, the conjuror waved his hand to magically divert the debris, but as soon as the spell had punched a hole through the filth it only revealed the serious and determined visage of an onrushing Osiris. The Telgradian’s eyes glowed gold, Enpera’s blade overlaid with a pulsating kaleidoscope of purple and black.

Arcane power surged from Arius’s hand to stop it.

“Hakai: Enpera Asurendo!”

Mephisto’s eyes widened as the incantation split his focus. The power in his hand was meant to stop an anticipated Enpera Kurohitsugi, but what came instead was something he had never seen. The wizard gritted his teeth as he watched his magic career harmlessly past Enpera’s blade, and shouted in surprise as Shinsou drove the tip of it into the floor beneath him. Almost instantly, a deluge of razor sharp rocks rose from the floor, two ripping through Arius’s right calf and shredding the muscle fibres to nothing. A taste of tangy Underwood lemon filled the air as the badly haemorrhaging conjuror desperately tried to activate one of his teleportation glyphs.

Wha-?!

Calmly, fearlessly, the Telgradian reacted. He parted the portal beginnings with the sheer force of his sword, cleaving the membrane in two before gripping Arius by the throat within the same spin and slamming his body into the floor with such force that Felicity felt the thud from where she had escaped to. His wits slowed by pain and concussion, it took even Mephisto some time to work out exactly what just transpired as a trickle of scarlet forked down his lip. It was time that the young Telgradian used well, slipping his sword into the folds of flesh between Arius’s shoulderblade to pin him to the floor.

"How about that?" Shinsou, his lips soaked with his blood, glared daggers from golden eyes above him. "Looks like you bleed like any other man, Arius."

“It's not enough, boy. It will NEVER be enough!” Mephisto's voice growled gutturally from the floor.

“You’re right. Not enough. Not yet.” His response elicited a condescending snigger. Arius didn’t take him seriously, and it was not difficult to see why given the events of the last few months, but danger lay in delusion. "Not until I've crushed your corpse to dust!"

With a final glance over to Felicity, and then back to his nemesis, Shinsou closed his eyes.

“Hakai: Enpera Shinohaya.”

Blearily, Arius looked up, staring into a void of dark ebony that shot out from Shinsou’s feet. Six silver rings of light shimmered with power before drenching the pair in irrefutable brightness, so much so that even Arius’s arcanely attuned eyes were momentarily stunned. However, just before the powerful spell could take form, Mephisto winced in pain and snapped his fingers. Dark, raven-like wings folded from his wounded back, smothering them both and pinning the Telgradian to the floor. The dark sorceror smiled evilly in this new form, baring a row of sharp canine teeth as he removed Enpera from his shoulder, then spoke.

“Did you think you were the only one capable of sealing your power? Fool! I'll send you straight to hell!”

Rough hands reached out, slashing at Shinsou’s eyes with a magical light to disorient him, before quickly and erratically weaving the air behind them into another teleportation glyph. This time, the rune dwarfed the pair of them and activated with such force that before the Telgradian could protest, the gravity from portal’s surface wrenched his arms behind his back. As his blinded eyes snapped back, Shinsou kicked as hard as he could at where he thought Arius’s injured leg was. The reality continued to part behind him, until at last he found himself kicking against the conjuror’s exposed bone. Roaring in pain, the raven-like Arius momentarily lost his balance, and Shinsou tried to roll him over into his own portal.

It was too late, though. At a wordless command, Arius fully opened the gate and Whitevale watched as the swirling mass of leylines and blue whorls consumed both men entirely. As suddenly as it had begun, the wind died down to nothing, leaving only dust-blind eyes and cowering townsfolk in its wake. The bewildered Felicity Rhyolite sat there, unclaimed by the pull of the now closed portal that had wrought Shinsou and Aruis from the plane of Althanas. Her fearful and bewildered gaze around missed the shimmer that announced Gweneal’s arrival to her proximity.

Thread Title: The Redemption of Tylmerande
Judgement Type: Basic Rewards


Storm Veritas receives:

1950 EXP
110 GP

Shinsou Vaan Osiris receives:

1800 EXP
110 GP

Flamebird receives:

1190 EXP
100 GP

Rewards to be added momentarily.

Rewards Added