"Your attempts to kill me are tiring. Perhaps you'd like to trying to talk?" asks Siden, looking rather unimpressed at Gwynt's fang stopped at his pale flesh. "The weapon to me is a vessel for my soul. And now that your soul is threaded into it, there is no turning back; your fate is now aligned with ours." With a low chuckle, he stays in his sitting place on the rock, raising his hand and brushing his fingers along the blade. Upon contact, his fingers turn Gwynt's fang a crimson color.
Pulling the blade away, Rune glares at Siden. "You made me kill all those people," he snarls, "they didn't deserve death."
"Don't be foolish," the archdemon retorts callously, "those who were not strong perished because of their weakness. You managed to worm your way into a city claimed by Ar'taian influence, and only escaped with stealth. You wouldn't have come close to bringing them past the first gate without being cut down by hundreds who watched the gates."
"That is no excuse."
"Regardless, there is a situation at hand, which I can help you survive, if not conquer." He chuckles lowly as the chittering comes again, much louder.
Frowning, Rune gives Siden a cold, hard glare. "If what you say is true, then stop wasting my time; help me survive this god's 'test.'"
"It is simple, to do my work, I need two things. Your consent to my presence with your soul, and your energy."
"Energy?"
"Everyone has a life force. I feed off that energy in order to function, to give you the strength you need this time." Hopping off the rock, Siden offers Rune one of his pale hands. "Do we have an agreement?"
Faced with the worst of ultimatums; a deal with a demon, or outright death. Rune's frown only deepens. "Do I even have a choice?" he mutters, watching the snow trap his vision of the mountains as it cascades down ever more densely. The spider could attack at any moment, and the still-fresh image of the cultist's rather messy demise in Rune's mind only increases the pressure. "Fine," he says, "I'll do it."
"Excellent!" Siden exclaims, "now close your eyes, both hands on the hilt, and listen to my voice. Oh, and don't die. It's an unhealthy habit." Physically vanishing, he leaves Rune alone.. at first glance.
With clear orders given, Rune inhales and exhales slowly while tuning out the tasteless noises again; looking past the howl of the wind, the chittering of the spider and the faint shouting of the remaining devotees, he hears an even more subtle sound; the air splitting apart at Gwynt's sharp edge. Focusing in on that sound, Rune is greeted with Siden's voice again.
Before my imprisonment, I served the Dark Queen on the battlefield. I was the champion of Rynrt, God of the Battlefield, Rage, and Keeper of the Flames. Siden's voice grows steadily louder as it grasps hold of Rune's mind. Millions fell before me, and I was known as the Archdemon of Slaughter. Multitudes of foes were butchered by me, and even most of the champions crumpled before my might. I was undefeatable, before Gavrie.
We were at a standstill for decades, neither capable of destroying the other. Disappointed with my... inability to dominate the archangel, Byzix cast me into Gwynt, the relic my prison for my rival and I. The centuries passed as I sat, awaiting inevitable freedom or to be forever forgotten. Then, I took my chance to spread my soul, as the perfect vessel presented itself.
I seeded part of my being into a child, on the day of your birth. I watched the life pass from the mother's eyes, severing my connection as her soul was sacrified to keep me at bay. I watched as, against all odds, that seed grew, even against Tarlmisaac's will. I spectated the crucible both the child and seed endured, as that piece of me fought tooth and claw for control. Alas, it was too weak. But, it was in the adult years that the soul fragment called across the realms, summoning a bridge between the Realm of Darkness and Erelith.
It was on that day your home's - not to mention the rest of this realm - destruction began. Runeshot, your bother is that vessel of the seed that has started this catastrophe.
"You keep saying that you and this 'seed' are not the same," Rune comments, holding back the impulsive rage inside. It would do no good to get angry at a demon as old as the earth he stands on. "Is there a reason?"
It no longer is me. Once the connection was severed, it created another 'me,' so to speak. The hilt of Gwynt is suddenly warmer, the heat flowing into Rune' hand. Regardless, the Queen will likely favor whatever abomination has grown to replace me, having brought about her return. Seeing as my intentions are to be free of both that wretched vault and this Darkness, I will offer you my fire, to burn her away from this realm, and consume those who stand in your path. In return, you do not perish. You walk this world, so I may as well. Do you accept?
"Once again, I have no other choice," Rune mutters, nodding. Suddenly, a surge of inexplicably pure power funnels through his veins. A change in Gwynt's color - hauntingly nostialgic crimson - brings forth waves of intensive heat, overpowering the extreme cold. Though Rune can feel the heat through the hilt, it fails to singe his flesh.
My flames are born of Rynrt's Garden of Inferno, and none have yet to survive the flames when used against them. Fear nothing; my flames will burn away the spider."
"For my sake," says Rune, "I hope you're right." The chittering, louder than ever before, rips Rune out of his mental insulation. The snow lets up, giving away Rune's position in front of the massive beast, and vice versa. Watching one of the eight legs lift upward, Rune turns around and begins to scramble through the snow. The sunlight is blotted out as the leg comes down, narrowly missing him as it crashes down into the snow and ice.
Now! Attack now! Turning around, Rune brings Gwynt down against the thick spider leg. A dark, red flame flares flares upon contact as the blade moves through the leg with little resistance as it scorches through. Pulling the blade away, Rune looks up at the retreating spider as it strides away from him, staggering around. At his feet is the smoldering segment of the leg he severed.
Ah, now the tide of battle has turned, Siden says with a laugh, don't leave this one alive. I want to taste its soul.
Silent, Rune nods in acknowledgement. When the spider approaches again, he readies the blade to be put to work once more. The spider swoops down, its fangs dripping with venom. Reacting quickly, Rune rolls out of the way as and penetrates the side of the spider's thorax. Once more, the bright flash of flames erupts and feeds into the spider.
Letting out one last chitter, the spider lays still. The burning subsides, and Siden releases a sated sigh. There is nothing better than feeding off the direct spawn of a god itself.
"You've had your fill, now how do I return Gwyt to normal?" Rune waits for a respons, only to find Gwynt's blade return to its normal state on its own. Siden controls the blade's power, it would seem. As silence settle over them both for the moment, Rune feels what must be the toll of this flame on his own body; soreness throughout his body, he wheezes and fights to catch his breath as the wind struggles to stay out of his body.
A drawback to the god-like power. But, the cost is worth its effect, is it not?
"It's strong," Rune admits, coughing now and then. "But, how do I know you won't try to control me again?"
Fool. I claimed control so Gwynt would not devour your mind. Show some gratitude, you are still breathing your own breath, are you not?
"Devour my mind? Why?"
You lost control of your emotions, and your focus on the goal. Without a clear goal in mind, you would be prey for the blade. It holds no mercy for those unworthy of its possession; those who do not know their place in their destiny, and where the blade fits in.
"Why did you save me?"
What's worse; being in the hands of a mortal, or on the pedestal in that forsaken vault again?
Smirking, Rune wipes Gwynt in the snow before sheathing it where it belongs.
Suddenly, the snow underneath Rune's feet bursts into the air, bringing him along with it. Trying to recover in mid-air, Rune feels thick fingers - the size of men - wrap around his body. "What are you doing in my sanctum, Ranger of the North?" The burst of snow fades, leaving Rune staring into the eyes of the booming speaker; a giant.
Awed to silence, Rune stares at the giant. Having only heard of these rare beings in stories, he recalls how emphasized their strength is. One line comes to mind; '.. with the raw strength to flatten the mountains of Uskbight with their bare hands.' "I..." trying to formulate words, he tries to push back the fragile feeling creeping through his veins. "I'm just passing through. How do you know me?"
"A god never forgets." The giant sets Rune back down on the ground, before sitting down in the snow, body dressed in an assortment of rags. He looks down at Rune, a cold stare grants neither hostility nor pacification.
Rune meets the stare of the god-giant for a moment, before clearing his throat. "How do you remember me if you have never met me?" he asks, slowly relaxing in place.
"The prophecies whispered through the air are what the gods know will come to be. We know you would come here, but not when." With a simple shrug, Uskbight looks at the remains of his servant. "If you were an impostor, you would have been slain by now. And, with the return of the Queen, it is fitting that you appear."
"For the god of spite," says Rune, "you don't seem very spiteful. And don't you serve the Dark Queen? Why haven't you killed me off, in that case?"
"Would you prefer if I stop with my friendliness, and ended your prophecy on the bottom of my foot?"
"No."
"Then stop questioning what is not necessary to question. I owe no allegiance to Her Dark Majesty anymore, nor do any of the gods. Even those bonds of loyalty have withered away. Now, I have a reward for passing my test." Reaching into a bank of snow, Uskbight withdraws from it... a door?
"There isn't much to do with that out here," comments Rune. Approaching the door, he examines it for some distinct difference from any ordinary door.
"It is no door, Ranger; it is a portal."
"To where?"
"Wheere you are to be." Gesturing towards the door with a nod, Uskbight stands up, turning his back to Rune. "Now, off with you. Being generous sickens me.
Not wishing to test the patience of a god, Rune opens the door. As if opening the air itself, it reveals a pocket of pitch darkness. Without second guessing himself, he steps through. The howling winds and their chiilling airs suddenly vanish. Solid stone beneat his boots, Rune takes a few steps forward- Thunk! He pulls his head back, rubbing over where his forehead and a wooden suface met.
"Is someone there?" a muffled voice calls out.
Rune clears his throat. "Yes, it appears that I'm stuck in here. Can you help me get out?"
A series of clickings sound from in front of Rune, and he finds a wooden door swinging open to Myrzen, out of his-- his? Without Myzen's abundance of clothing, all that is left is a nightgown covering a slim, feminine body.
"How did you get in there?" she asks, her dagger in hand.
"Well," Rune starts, "it's a long story. And what about you? You're a woman?"
Even in the dim, warm glow of the fire across the room, the faint pink tint of a blush is visible. "Well, she starts, taking a few steps back, "I would have preferred nobody would know for n ow.."
Entering the room, Rune clears his throat. "I get it. The path you took is dangerous for anyone on their own, even more for a woman on her own." Taking his eyes off 'Myrzen,' he walks towards the only other door in the room. "What is your real name?"
"My mother named me Tulia." Tulia stands straight, stiff as a statue. "Please, tell no one!" she pleads. "Nobody can know."
"It's had to keep secrets from people who are supposed to trust you," Rune says, staring at the door.
"It's worse to have them prying where they shouldn't be," rebuffs Tulia.
Raising his hand for the door hand, Rune acknowledges her response with a single nod. "Stop worrying. Your secret is safe with me. After you've gone so far to keep it hidden, I won't be the one to cast of the shroud."
Sighing in relief, Tulia loosens up in her posture. "Thank you," she says, "I won't forget this."
"I'm sure you won't." Opening the door slowly, Rune adds, "It's good to see you as well."
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