Subsistence: Firestar, #4

By David Harrell

The Hollow Realm was like an oasis among the others, a land of restoration, abundance, and peace, but it was also a zealously guarded realm inhabited by powerful spirits, resilient beasts, and the elusive Hunters. To them and their people, the great wilderness of the forest was a garden to be protected, but to their neighbor in the south, it was a vast untamed estate.

 

Initial contact between the Aural and Hollow Realms was strained but quickly soothed by a hunter's forgiveness and understanding. From there, the two lands exchanged beliefs, resources, and information, but this bond eventually became a snare to the people of the Hollow Realm as war dawned on the horizon.

 

Spurred by their alliance with the south, the Hunters were encouraged to mobilize and fight against the rising magic arts of the Saline Realm, but they were given signs and prophecies through oracles to abstain from conflict or suffer great destruction. The Salians and Kings both sent delegates to argue their case, and the Garden was divided on what to do. Before long, however, the Hollow Realm honored the cause of their ally and went to war.

 

Over the course of the bloody campaign, a force of calamity appeared on the battlefield, and it tore into the Garden with unrivaled fury and unbridled wrath. Those who survived described a Terror too fearsome to behold, and after a third of the Hollow Realm was rendered lifeless, the people of the Hollow Realm abandoned the Aural Realm and set their backs to the outside world. After the war ended, the people stayed insulated from the events that followed, and when the Terror returned to the Garden once more, he no longer brought with him a storm of destruction but a firm and gentle tempest of change.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Harrell
• Release date: Aug 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9798223212560

Book preview

Chapter 1

Disclosure

DANGLING IN A wooden cage suspended high above the forest floor was a woman whose dark-robed body did not move and did not stir. Her hair, long and shimmering, was spread wildly around her head, but her face and features were obscured to the coldness of the world beyond. Her mind was awake, and her eyes peered deep into the seemingly endless night of the dense forest. She was timeless, but she was weary. She was alive, but she was dying. How long had she waited thus far, and how long had it been? How long had she been in the darkness hoping for the light to take her in? She could not remember, and she could not rest, so she sighed. She made her choice. She chose this path, and it was a choice she made long ago. It brought her to this moment, but with the ages of time and all of the events that passed, she began to wonder if she made the right choice.

Commander! A panicked helmsman was calling to her, but the woman failed to respond. Commander Elea, please! but Elea still could not answer back, for her eyes were fixed on what was ahead. It was the age of the second world, and she had finally been given her very own ark, an aerial vessel suspended and maintained by the artistry and engineering of magic. She had only given the ship its name the previous night and called it the Endurance. This was their first outing, so she could not believe her misfortune or the sight beyond the observation window ahead of her.

There was a young man clothed in black with a silver gauntlet on his right hand, and he was leaping from ship to ship cleaving some with a sword and smashing others with his incomparable strength. As he sailed through the air, black trails of vapor flowed from his back, and they appeared as wings to everyone who saw him. One of the navigators cried, Is this the angel of darkness? Are we all going to die? and everyone watched helplessly as the subject continued his rampage. When he landed upon his next target, whether it was a fighter or a frigate, the vessel shook under his unusual weight, and he struck with great deftness and ferocity until the object of his aggression was in pieces. The skies became his playground, and the armada ships were his toys. He was a consummate warrior with no standing equal, and it was clear his only desire was to overcome and conquer.

Elea slowly shook her head, but her eyes were fixed on the sight. How can such a thing be possible? This shouldn’t be possible.

Commander! the helmsman pleaded. What are your orders?

This is impossible. Fall back. Fall back! The helmsman turned back to his station and attempted to reverse the ship’s course, but doing so only caught the attention of the insatiable fighter, and after kicking off a nearby interceptor, he soared through the air and landed upon the outer deck of the Endurance. His feet sunk into the thick metal upon landing, a testament to his enormous density and weight, but he was only average in size and fit in shape, and the crew was terrified by him. Elea looked on as the young man stood. He was proud and smiling over what he accomplished, and though he was at a distance, she could not help but see a rim of darkness that encircled his eyes.

A thunderous voice called out to him. Shyo! Shyo, stop! The voice belonged to the young man’s brother, and it caused his smile to quickly fade away. Shyo, please! he heard again. You have to stop! Come back! and in response to this, the darkness in Shyo’s eyes receded. Still, he did not speak and even hesitated to turn from his quarry, and in that moment, his eyes locked onto Elea’s and did not move.

Elea could barely speak. Monster.

The Night Bearer declined to reply, and after taking several steps away from the crew, he jumped from the deck of the Endurance and did not return.

Time passed. A monster, Elea uttered to herself, but she soon pushed the image of what she saw out of her mind. Her superiors called her to a meeting in an underground bunker on the outer rim of her nation’s border. There was a job they wanted her to perform, but they declined to tell her what it was. She was already recruited to their cause and even adopted their reasoning for the coup they planned. The government needed to be overthrown for the good of the people and the future of the land, but there were other organizations that needed to be dealt with as well. She had proven her allegiance thus far, so she saw no reason for the excessive secrecy. Why was she called out to such a place, and why was it necessary that she come alone? As she neared the chamber where she was poised to meet, she overheard her admiral speaking in hushed tones. Elea is a double-edged sword. If we don’t handle her properly, she will—, but he suddenly stopped. Elea entered. Ah, he said, and he recomposed himself. There she is.

Is something the matter? Elea asked.

Nothing. It’s nothing. Listen, and the two informed her of the mission. She was to locate a mysterious researcher, the head of a clandestine organization, and eliminate him, his associates, and all traces of his work without undue notice.

Elea protested. They are mere scientists, correct? Send an assassin. This is not a job for me, but they insisted she do it. What is this about? Have I not proven myself? but the two men only exchanged glances and continued to plead their case. Something was amiss in their words, but she did not know what it was, and the more she pressed for answers, the more evasive they became. The admiral she respected. He was gracious with her and patient despite everything that occurred, and the second man, leader of a rebellious faction in the military, earned her trust on the fields of battle and discretion. Why were they now keeping secrets from her? She did not know, but because she was unwilling to forsake either one, she relented to their constant evasions and recommitted herself. Fine, and she accepted her instructions. I will do what you ask, but you must tell me what this is about.

The admiral exhaled a sigh of relief. After this, Elea, I will tell you everything. I’m just glad you’re still on our side.

I’m sure.

I’m being truthful, I assure you. Trust me. This will be your final mission. After this, there will be nothing else to worry about.

They were such strange words to Elea’s ears, but the memory of them soon faded. She was then among compatriots at the base of a large mountain, the Mountain, and the Night Bearer, angel of darkness and monster among nations, was finally subdued. Sephor, Treos, Bacchus, Mol, Varis, Asher, and Elea had triumphed, and their leader took the powers of darkness and distributed the gift to everyone present, but something went wrong. Elea felt intense pain in her lower abdomen which caused her to groan and cry out in agony. Her vision darkened as well, and those around her appeared to suffer similar maladies. It took several moments to recover, and during that time, terrible visions played out in her mind. She saw herself betrayed by her own superiors. She saw herself bound in an underground lab. She saw herself caged in a forest forgotten. She saw herself cowering before an all-powerful God. Elea shook her head of these images and denied them acceptance and access to her heart, and just as the pain was beginning to ease, a glimmer of light emanated from the mountain’s peak.

Mol pointed to it and marveled. What is happening up there? Is this it? Is this it?

The light suddenly intensified, and Elea was pushed down by the leader who was standing behind her. Get down! he ordered, and as they complied, they were covered over in a canopy of darkness. The light from the mountain erupted in a wave of living power and thunderous noise. It washed over their position with a high-pitched scream and a cacophony of heavenly sounds. It was loud, too loud, and far too intense for Elea to bear, and despite the protection afforded by the darkness, she could feel herself reacting to it. She screamed. Make it stop! Make it stop!

Silence. Everything was suddenly quiet, and she was no longer in the world she once thought she knew. She was surrounded by trees in a dense, luscious forest. The environment was soothing and peaceful, even spiritual. She was walking through the region alone in an attempt to understand the feelings stirring within her. She had forgotten something, and it was important to remember, but there was a blockage somewhere that had just started to loosen. She placed a hand on her abdomen. She was beginning to feel relief for the first time in ages, but a familiar presence caught her attention, and a man called out to her. Elea. All became black.

More time passed. How much time? She could not be sure, but Elea was back in the forest again, only this time, the region was given a new name. It was the Hollow Realm, and she retreated to it after escaping confinement in the southwest. Her attire had changed, and she was wearing a dark robe with water patterns etched into the fabric. The trees changed as well, for many of the growths in the area were new. She was beginning to feel at ease, and her mind was starting to clear once more. What had she forgotten? She continued to wonder, but a disturbance in the branches above alerted her that she was not alone. Several hunters swiftly descended upon her with spears and daggers ready in hand, and Elea evaded their downward strikes and quickly repositioned herself before them. The dark-skinned warriors kept their eyes on her, and they were led by a ferocious young woman robed in the colors of her clan. Without a word, the woman readied her bow and fired several shots at Elea, but Elea swiftly deflected them with beats of wind and a sheath of fire. She retaliated with arcs of lightning, but the hunters dispersed and surrounded her location. Using the trees for cover, they circled her continuously while Elea shot at them from her disadvantaged position, but she soon grew tired of this and attempted to flee. She was then hit by a dart from one of the hunters, but she could not be sure from which one. They were moving too fast, and the poison from the dart sapped her will, the source of her magic abilities. Using her own powers of restoration, she attempted to slow if not negate the effects, but doing so only opened her up to further attacks, and several more darts pierced her in the back. Elea fell and soon became unconscious.

When she opened her eyes again, Elea found herself paralyzed and unable to move. Her body had been placed in a wooden cage, and it was hoisted up on a rope. Among the branches was her female captor, and she was arguing with another man. He appeared frustrated with her, but due to the dullness of Elea’s hearing, she was unable to make out what they were saying. She was too tired to care in any case, and once they fixed her elevation, she closed her eyes to sleep.

She awakened prematurely in the middle of the night, and there was no way for her to know how much time had passed. The poison had worn off, but she still declined to move and only stared through her hair into the seemingly endless night. How long had she waited thus far, and how long had it been? How long had she been in the darkness hoping for the light to take her in? She could not remember, and she could not rest, and Elea sighed to herself. Did I make the right choice? but with no answer in sight, she closed her eyes and induced herself back to sleep. She would not move, and she would not stir, and as she slept, the world beyond her continued to change.

A terrible shadow was stirred to wrath in the lands beyond the Hollow Realm, and in the wake of his relentless journey, many lives were taken and lost. The Burning Realm, seized with terror at the revelation of his advent, was forced to face what it feared for so long. The Stony Realm likewise trembled at his presence and soon succumbed to dissonance, madness, and war. His actions changed these lands, for better or for worse, in his pursuit to purge the world of an enemy presence, but once his ambitions were complete, he was freed to pursue an altogether different path. The Saline Realm, home to the art of magic and the land he was forged as a weapon of war to protect, already turned against him before his self-imposed mission. Nevertheless, with a new objective to modify what he became, he traveled alone into the dense forests of the Hollow Realm.

So much had changed since his last venture into the region, but many of his attributes were changing as well. Though still hardened by the Magic War he once took part in, he was no longer as cold as he used to be. His reaction to problems, previously defined by violence, was softening to make way for other solutions. He was hopeful, and despite the cynicism still lingering in his mind, he even dared to believe perhaps this time, the hope would stay with him. The names he was given expressed themselves in his psyche. He was the Great Destroyer, the Great Beast, the Reaper, the Terror, and the Firestar. He knew he had been these things as titles that reflected his acts, but they only revealed part of his total nature and could not accurately define who he actually was. My name, he whispered to himself, is Darrio. Darrio Deloran, and though he accepted the names he was given, he did so with the expectation he could still be more.

After traveling for some time in silence past the great trees and dense foliage that defined the region, Darrio rested in a small clearing and sat on a nearby log. A harmonious blend of insect and animal noises resonated through the moistened air, and it felt as if the whole realm was brought into a state of peace. He enjoyed this peace, but after being idle for several moments, his natural restlessness got the better of him, and he huffed. So what am I supposed to do now? but he was told before his entry that he only needed to be. Even though he accepted this, the meaning was beginning to fade from his mind. What am I supposed to be? he sighed. What should I be right now? I don’t even know.

As Darrio contemplated, three pairs of eyes observed him from the branches above. They belonged to a set of patrolling hunters, and as they watched, they attempted to reconcile the strange sight below them. Darrio was a young man by appearance with a dark and unblemished complexion, and this combined with his raven-colored hair seemed to mark him as a native of the region. His attire, however, was that of a Salian infiltrator, a shade, and he did not bear any of the colors of any clan of their villages. He was clearly an outsider, but knowing this did nothing to alleviate their concerns. The youngest of them whispered. Who is that?

And the eldest answered, I believe it is the Terror.

The Terror? Why is the Terror here?

I do not know, but be quiet before he hears us.

Darrio was indeed wearing the black cloak of his former station, and underneath it was a violet ensemble that was largely hidden from view. On his wrists he wore a pair of bands he received from a Firan family in the Burning Realm, and girded on his waist were a pair of crescent-edged daggers from his surrogate in the Saline Realm. A hunting knife from the aforementioned family was also on his person, and he had taken a panel from an ancient vessel he found in the Stony Realm. The latter item was particularly foreign to the world, and he hoped to understand its meaning and function, and after being reminded of it, he retrieved the item from underneath his cloak. Since beginning his journey to the Hollow Realm, he studied it periodically for any signs he could recognize. An ancient guardian named Abaddon once instructed him in the construction of scripts, but Darrio found nothing he could identify or decipher. The language was simply foreign, and the structure was unusual. The typical punctuations that completed an instruction were notably absent, and he could not tell if they were simply not needed or placed elsewhere in the panels he left behind. These efforts proved fruitless in any case and only reminded him of an old dream he once carried in his youth. To be an artisan, he uttered aloud, and after a moment of reminiscing, he returned the panel underneath his cloak. I better keep moving, he said, and he rose to his feet, for he could not be certain how the denizens of the realm would react. He knew already he was being watched, and as a precaution, Darrio extended the reach of his will to track their movements. They were cautious and fearful, a clear indication they recognized who they were following, but after ignoring them for some time, Darrio became irate. Their fear was annoying him, and he stopped and loudly asked, What the hell do you want?

The leaves above him rustled in disturbance, and the men whispered loudly. The youngest of them even said, He can see us?

Darrio answered, Yeah, I can see you, and he turned to face their direction. What do you want?

The three hunters exchanged several looks of confusion, but with little else to do, they descended to the forest floor in full view of Darrio. Their spears were held tightly in their hands. Like the Firans, they were lightly dressed with an ensemble of plated bones and trimmed hides to protect their upper body and torsos, and a pair of fingerless gloves kept their hands from being scratched. Their arms were encircled with several bands similar in design to the ones Darrio wore, and a sash draped down their front and back from the wrap that was tied around their waists. Their complexions were also dark, and their hair was as black as his, but this was of no consequence to Darrio. His parents were born from the region. He was not.

The elder of the three spoke and asked, What are you doing here, Terror? The war between our people is over, and you are not welcome here.

I didn’t come here because I was welcomed, Darrio answered.

The youngest and most fearful of the hunters then asked, Then did the Father send you? Are we under His judgment again? The elder men turned to the young hunter and shushed him, but he protested. But what if he is?

Then the Father would have warned us first, and the oracles have said nothing of this.

Then why is he here?

Darrio shook his head but knew what the young man was alluding to. Fifteen years prior, the hunters of the realm were called upon to engage in a series of assassinations to destabilize the Saline Realm during the Magic War. It was not the first time this had been asked of them, but one of the places targeted was an encampment where Darrio and Seris, a man who was once Darrio’s captain, were temporarily stationed. Seris died in the attack, and though he was later revived, Darrio had already disembarked to the Hollow Realm. He destroyed a third of everything in the region before news of the resurrection reached him. After remembering this, Darrio said, I don’t know why I was encouraged to come here, but I know it wasn’t to pick a fight.

The elder hunter was curious. Encouraged? Were you guided here? By whom?

You probably know Him better than I do, Darrio answered. At least I hope you do. You did just mention Him.

Are you speaking of the Father? You know Him?

I know of Him, Darrio corrected, for knowledge of the subject was one of the many things Darrio kept alive from his parents.

And you believe He led you here?

Darrio nodded.

Why?

I don’t know yet, but I’ve been through a lot lately, and I’m not in the mood to fight anyone, so if you’re not going to attack me, and you don’t want to attack me, could you please just leave me alone?

The three hunters turned to each other and exchanged glances. We will have to go and tell our villages about this. You do know this, don’t you?

Do what you want, Darrio answered. It really makes no difference to me.

I suppose not, and after a moment of observation, the elder hunter gestured for the others to return, and they ascended up the trees and away from the site.

Darrio lowered his head and sighed. Why did you bring me out here? and he looked up. What am I supposed to be doing here? but a cool breeze passed over his head and brought peace to his troubled mind. In response to this, Darrio relaxed himself and cast his eyes downward. He knew better than to be doubtful, and he already learned not to deny what was plainly in front of him. He was being guided, and it was not to his detriment, so rather than question the nature of these things, he submitted his will to the spirit above and pressed on to find whatever he was meant to discover.

During this time in the Saline Realm, Darrio’s old captain, then a High General, sat quietly in his office in the Hall of Order. His long, silver hair faintly reflected the orange glow of the fire he manipulated in his open hand, and his eyes darted about as he was lost in thought. He had been contemplating for some time over the state of Darrio’s well-being and how his latest actions would be received by the people around him. He called for a declaration of war against the Firestar, and though he was known for his unconventional methods and schemes, the request was surprising and unprecedented. High Elder Tiberius, the oldest and most influential elder of Salia’s councils, gave his support to the motion, and though it was done with ulterior motives, Seris knew it would only be a matter of time before the decision was ratified throughout the realm. His reputation among the people, however, entered a state of confusion.

In one of the motions deemed necessary to secure his aims, Seris sent an agent named Lon into the Silent Realm to broker an arrangement between the two regions. Lon was known to be untrustworthy and was charged with treason in the past, but a measure of faith had been placed in Seris’ decision after securing support from the Firans in the Burning Realm. Lon, however, turned against the Saline Realm to side with the alchemists, and faith in Seris’ judgment took a hit in the process. His further call to secure the power of dark magic for use against Darrio was also puzzling. As one of the lost elements of magic, little was known about its traits and effects, and until the discovery of an ancient order known as the Shadow Casters, it was believed no one would be able to control them. Since their discovery, however, many in the institution of Magnus, the patron god of magic in the Saline Realm, came to be infected by its presence, and though unpracticed in its use, they fully accepted the element at the price of their own sanity. Despite this, Seris believed the darkness could be brought into submission since the Shadow Casters themselves were capable of bearing it with clear minds. It was simply unknown how to accomplish this, but he believed even the answer to this would be found in time. Still, national pursuit of the darkness was also unprecedented, and the people could not help but fear what this new direction would bring.

As Seris pondered over these things, several knocks emanated from his door, and he answered, Come in.

It was Turil, another High General and Seris’ only friend among the ranks. As an old confidant, the two exchanged many words since their return from the Magic War, and Turil was even opposed to the hidden aims of Seris, but this did not stop him from trying to reconcile their natural differences. He was the only other general with clear insights into Seris’ secret ambitions. Turil knew the man. He even knew how he thought, and it was because of this that he came to speak on that day. Seris, Turil said. Am I interrupting you?

No, Turil, and Seris extinguished the flame of his meditation. Why have you come?

I wanted to speak with you about Lon and these latest developments of yours. Turil pointed to the seat in front of Seris’ desk and asked, May I? Seris nodded, and Turil sat down. Lon has not truly betrayed the realm, has he?

Seris was quiet.

I have not forgotten your machinations. You sent him into the realm for a reason, and it was not to garner an alliance. Why did you send him?

Your questions have become bold, Turil.

Turil smiled. You did assure me that you would not use my actions against me, and since I am free from your designs, I hope to resurrect as much of our old friendship as possible.

Seris smiled.

I see you have recovered much of yourself since the war has ended as well. You know I will not betray you.

In spite of all that has happened, between the two of us, you are the only one who has not changed, Turil.

Had I any need to?

Seris shook his head.

Then answer my question. I assure you, we are alone.

As a precaution, Seris sealed the room with his will before continuing to speak. No one would be able to hear them. Tell me what has brought you to this conclusion.

Turil leaned back and crossed his arms. You once accused me of being blind.

Only once, Turil?

Turil smiled. Many times, but lately, I have begun to take your advice to heart, and my eyes have been opening though slower than I would like.

Then you are seeing more.

Turil nodded. And I am remembering much. Though treacherous, Lon has bound his inclinations to the limits of your will since the day you humbled him. He does nothing without your prior approval first.

Were you not studying the affairs of the Silent Realm? Why have you concerned yourself once more with my shades?

Because of the insights they have given me into your character. I’m beginning to understand why you have retained them for so long and why you insist on maintaining their presence. They reflect you in some way, don’t they?

Seris smiled and lowered his eyes to the desk. You have indeed seen much.

I see this pleases you.

It is a day I have waited for.

A day in which you would finally be known.

Seris nodded, and for a moment, the two sat in mutual silence.

Seris, Turil began again. I am sorry I could not have come to this sooner. I saw in you only what I wanted to see, and for that, the burden of ignorance is upon me.

I am not angry with you, Turil.

Nevertheless, I would appreciate it if you accepted my apology. I will feel no release if you do not.

Seris nodded. Then I forgive you.

Thank you, and he smiled. Now if you would only answer my original question.

Seris did likewise and answered, It is as you say. Lon has bound himself to my ambitions, and to test him, I have allowed him to carry out a task on my behalf.

It is a test?

Seris nodded. To see if he will hold true to our arrangement.

It seems a hazardous thing to me to test a man such as Lon, but I assume you have a countermeasure in mind should he fail this assessment of yours.

He will not fail, Seris answered. He is still too proud.

This is also like you, Turil answered, though you are far less overt in these matters.

Seris nodded.

What of Tam and Eloi? How do they reflect you?

Are you not concerned with my ambitions, Turil?

Yes, but now I am curious about the subject.

Tam has a matter he has yet to tame within himself, and Eloi, though broken, remains salvageable.

So in them, you have seen ways to perfect yourself, and not only yourself, but your ambitions as well, and Turil shook his head in respect. In all the time I have known you, even now, you remain a remarkable man in my sight, and I see even more how right I was to call you unknowable.

But Seris shook his head. I am not unknowable, but the only one who has known me is you, Turil.

Not in full.

But you have known me enough to seek me, and this has been something no one else has done.

Has the boy not sought you?

Once, Seris answered, and the memory pained him.

Before the war.

And his imprisonment by the Firans.

Turil apologized. I did not mean to disturb you in this.

It is fine, Turil.

You still hope to recover him, I assume.

It is my only wish at the moment.

That he would see you once again.

Seris nodded.

Then let me turn your mind away from him for a moment. Your decision to pursue dark magic, where did this come from?

During your assignment in the Burning Realm, I became aware of something that greatly impacted my view of this world.

Turil nodded. I remember the distress it brought you. Can you explain it to me now?

Seris paused for a moment and said, You must keep what I say in confidence, Turil. Nothing I say to you must leave this room. Will you do this?

Is it a burden greater than I can bear?

What I choose to impart, yes.

Then tell me, and I assure you, I will speak of this to no one.

It concerns the nature of my subordinate, Abaddon.

Abaddon?

Seris nodded. You may recall that he is an undocumented citizen of the realm.

I know. I have checked. The man has no history here. He simply appeared to you and volunteered his services shortly before the war as I recall.

And he has not left my side since that day.

So what did you discover?

He is not from this realm, and he is not from this age. He is an ancient…of the first world.

The first worl—…? Seris, are you sure about this?

Seris nodded. He admitted this to me himself.

Salians understood the history of the world to be divided into three predominate ages. The first world was thought to be an age in which magic was first introduced, but it was ended by the wars of great powers beyond the knowledge of the subsequent ages. The second world was a time in which magic flourished as the dominant medium of expression, but an event known as the Great Catastrophe ended this period and nearly extinguished all knowledge of the craft. Nevertheless, what little was known concentrated itself into a small community of wanderers who settled into a hostile land and eventually grew to overpower the natives. The nation of Salia was born from these events, and the region was renamed the Saline Realm. The old name was forgotten, and after Turil recalled these things, he said, I suppose this would explain his lack of history, but why did he come here?

To secure the realm against the Outer Realms.

Why?

To see the knowledge of magic preserved.

Turil could scarcely believe what he heard, and the implications of this were not yet illuminated in his mind. Abaddon had been an unknown since the time of his arrival, but he conducted his affairs in the shadow of Seris’ administration. He was a background figure of no consequence to the realm, and even then, his significance as an ancient seemed small. Turil then remembered the Firestar and the warning received in the Stony Realm. Seris. Did Abaddon know about the Shadow Casters and their existence?

Seris hesitated to answer but nodded. Yes.

Was he tied to them in any way?

Yes, but he has severed that connection.

I see, and though his tensions eased, he could not help but feel a sense of disturbance. This is indeed a burden.

Should I continue?

Though hesitant, Turil nodded. He told you more than this, I assume.

Seris nodded, And I am not at liberty to share much of it, but since his confession, my field of awareness in ancient matters has expanded, and I needed time to reconcile these things to what I already knew.

You had not fully accepted them yet.

I had not.

Then it will take me even longer to do so. Is this also why you turned Lon to the Silent Realm?

The Taurens have held a far greater interest in the old worlds than we have. It is where their knowledge of alchemy originated, and though their understanding is incomplete, they have nonetheless turned what little they have gleaned into practical application.

Contemptible concoctions and experimental abominations, Turil remembered.

They will not stop testing the nature of what they uncover until their knowledge is complete.

And magic is a close relation to alchemy. We know this is no coincidence even if we do not understand it. Am I correct in thinking you wish to discover what they know?

And use it to my advantage if possible.

Then what of the alchemists?

I have no need of the alchemists.

A chill of disturbance coursed through Turil, but he endeavored to hide his discomfort by shifting his weight. The statement reminded the general of how dangerous Seris could be, and he did not want to show his fear nor lower his eyes in the process. Then Lon is not only an agent to you but a dagger in their backs as well.

A role he is more than familiar with.

Turil shook his head. Then why the pretense, Seris?

I require it, Turil.

You will not tell me?

I wish to keep it hidden.

Then tell me this. Is Abaddon knowledgeable of dark magic? I would think so given his age and origin.

He is.

But he declined to share its secrets with us. He has even declined to share many secrets if he is as knowledgeable as his age implies.

It was for good reason, Turil.

Turil sighed. If those words were spoken by anyone else, I would not believe them, but since it is you…I will trust that what you say is true, but if that is the case, is pursuing the darkness now a good move for you?

The realm has become acquainted with it and is thus far less likely to abuse it. Despite this, I do not intend to see it spread beyond its use against Darrio.

How would you limit this?

I cannot answer this question, Turil. The burden on you would be too great.

Another chill coursed through the general. I see, Turil answered, and he rose from his seat.

You will keep what we have said in confidence?

I will not betray your trust, Seris, and there is still something I would admit to you, but it is now I who has much to think about.

I will be willing to hear you when you are ready, Turil.

Thank you, Seris, and with their exchange completed, Turil left the office in wonder and thought.

Seris felt a sense of release after speaking with Turil, for the two had been at odds since the end of the Magic War, and Seris wounded him by shutting him out. Though they fought together and exchanged many barbs both gentle and serious, it was not until their final return to the Saline Realm that their long friendship nearly ended. Turil, however, was determined in his pursuit to uncover Seris and his plans, and this persistent gesture had been a factor in drawing Seris out of the darkness of his mind. Seris would do no harm to Turil and would continue to do everything in his power to protect him, but he felt their paths would eventually diverge, and an ultimate decision would have to be made.

Later that night, Darrio rested from his wandering to build a cradle in the branches high above the forest floor. He learned earlier in the day how vicious the wildlife could be after walking into the hunting grounds of the local predators. Rather than destroy them outright, he took to the heights beyond their reach and settled on continuing his journey above the surface from then on. It was no longer any wonder to him why the hunters chose to travel that way, and once he finished his work, he rested his body and turned his eyes upward. It was impossible for him to see the sky through all of the foliage, but he nevertheless peered upwards as his mind probed the wonders of the heavens above him. Do you really live up there? he wondered aloud, and in his mind, he saw an image of a great figure draped in a flowing garment. The edges of it flowed outward in all directions, and on it were all the stars and all the worlds of the cosmos. This was an inspired and visual expression of the Father, the God of his parents, and the only deity Darrio personally affiliated with. He was in awe of the impression. That’s a whole lot bigger than I imagined you. The statement was amusing, and Darrio felt a spirit laugh within his inner being. He did not understand it, but he could not help but accept it. He then began to wonder further, and his tone became somber. Is it…possible for somebody like me to…I don’t know, but Darrio felt urged to finish the sentiment. After a moment of hesitation, he then asked, Can I…know you?

Do you want to? a familiar voice answered.

Darrio jumped and nearly fell from his cradle. Bastard! and he settled his heart and turned to the source of his disturbance. Stop doing that!

The voice belonged to Shyo, the Night Bearer and a subject Darrio already encountered more times than he wished to. He was sitting on a nearby branch in black clothes with a single black glove on his right hand. His hair was also black, and on his light-complexioned face was a confident smile. He was chuckling.

What’s so damn funny?

The fact that I’m still able to surprise you, and the fact that you just called me a bastard. Besides that, I thought you’d be able to see me coming by now.

How can I? You just appear without warning and start talking when I’m not aware of you.

Well, I suppose you haven’t come that far yet. Still, it’s an improvement from where you used to be. Glad to see you took my advice back there.

The Night Bearer warned Darrio about the condition of his heart and mind while journeying through the Stony Realm. Darrio ignored these warnings to his own detriment but had since come to accept and understand why they were given to him. What do you want, Shyo?

Oh, so we’re on a first-name basis now? Didn’t you just call me a bastard a few seconds ago?

Are you just going to tease me all night?

Shyo laughed. I’m just messing with you. Shyoa told me all about what happened.

Yeah, Darrio remembered. Shyoa, the Light Bearer, was Shyo’s twin, but the colors they bore were inverted. Darrio knew there was meaning to this and saw it was tied to their titles and identity, but the revelations they provided caused Darrio to question his own. So I know I’m a conduit, he said, and I know that means I’m a candidate for the light and dark elements.

So what are you telling me for?

Is that why you guys were sent after me?

Maybe.

How about giving me a straight answer for once?

Shyo smiled and shook his head. Alright, alright, and he turned upon the branch he was seated on until he was in a reclining position. Remember when you asked me what our job was? You thought it was to monitor who adopted magic, and I said you missed the mark. Do you remember that?

Darrio nodded. It was during his journey in the Burning Realm, and he said, I remember.

Well this is the mark. My brother and I have been waiting for a particular conduit to appear, a conduit who would be able to use both light and darkness as elements. That person would be a magic user, greater than any we’d ever seen, and this person, that is you, would eventually become our superior.

Superior?

Shyo turned to Darrio and grinned. That’s what I said, right? How’s that sound?

Awful. I’m nobody’s superior.

But Shyo disapproved. You’re different from us.

How?

How do I put this accurately? My brother and I? We came as heralds to the domains of light and darkness. We were examples and signs of what existed and what was possible.

But you can use those elements, and I can’t. I’ve seen you.

We can channel them, sure, but we don’t actually have authority over them. We’re more like agents or subjects. We can use it because we’re a part of their domain, but it’s not like I can willingly pass it on to someone else, and it’s not something anybody can take from me. Well, nobody except you now that is.

Then what about the Shadow Casters?

You think they’re running with a legitimate form of what I carry? Nobody can take this from me, and they were cursed because of it. Anybody who carries what they stole is cursed. That’s the penalty you pay for taking something that didn’t belong to you in the first place, especially something like this.

I still don’t understand how this makes me your superior. I don’t have any clue how to use those elements, and besides that, I’d make a terrible leader.

Shyo was concerned. You’re not actually afraid of being in charge, are you?

Darrio hesitated. I’ve never been in charge of anything.

Are you sure? You have the right qualities even if you do need some rounding out.

I…, but Darrio shook his head and said, I thought you said this would be a distraction.

Yeah, I did. At that time. This is a different time, so being distracted isn’t really an issue now. You really are afraid of this, aren’t you? Why?

I’m just…not….

Look. Just because you’re a destroyer doesn’t mean you’re always going to be destroying. It’s a big part of you, yeah, but it’s not all you’re going to be doing. You have to accept that.

I thought I did.

Well, keep accepting it, and don’t let that other side of you get in the way again.

Darrio then recalled the knowledge of his calamitous aspect and how it exerted itself within him in the Stony Realm. He was submitting to its calls at one time but had since brought it under the constraints of his own will. It had yet to be tamed, and Darrio asked, "About that, what am I supposed