Resonance: Firestar, #6

By David Harrell

Nestled within the early pages of the Aural Realm's exalted history was a period of tribulation and heroes. These heroes fought authorities and powers to unite a region in disarray, and to save their people, they established orders and founded a hedge of guiding principles around the emerging kingdoms. This foundation took years to build and was made of the blood, sacrifice, and toil of noble souls. It was intended to grant security for centuries to come but was undone by one generation of fear.

 

Aghast at the rapid growth and development of a new power in the Saline Realm, the royals and ideologues of the Eight Kingdoms condemned the budding nation's existence. They rallied allies, stoked the embers of resentment and conspiracy, and loudly proclaimed the practice of magic as nothing less than an affront to the very divinity of God. War broke out, and for two centuries, the Kingdoms fought to cleanse the world of an unholy taint, but for all of their dogmas and beliefs, the war ended in a resounding defeat.

 

Though shaken in their conviction, the institutions of Crown and Church held fast to their respective faiths. Within the castles, kings and their courts were encouraged to exercise their sovereign rights, and on hallowed grounds, congregations were soothed by assurances of divine protection over their souls. The war was over, but unbeknownst to them, the silver tongue of a new devil infiltrated the land, and the Demon instrumental to the Salian's victory returned once more to settle an ancient wound.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Harrell
• Release date: Oct 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223790686

Book preview

Chapter 1

Confession

COMMITTED TO THE traditions and duties of his station, the solemn king prayed quietly, evenly, and in earnest. He was on his knees with elbows placed on his bedside, and his long, coiled hair, gold and crowned with nobility, hung with grace around his somber face. The hems of his royal red robe were spread in a circle around his position, but his sturdy, hunched-over frame trembled from the weight on his shoulders. His eyes were closed, and through thin, pursed lips he said, Count not my sins against me, O Lord, and forgive me my trespasses. Protect me from temptation, from evil, and from those who work iniquity. Guide me in your ways, and reveal to me the way I should go. If it please you, endow me with wisdom and knowledge so I may present myself a righteous example to your people, and may I always bring honor and glory before you all the days of my life.

The priest, robed in black and white, stood at the only entrance and concluded, Amen.

But the king felt a pang of anguish in his heart at the priest’s words. Nevertheless, he opened his blue eyes to the corporeal realm and confirmed, Amen. He then stood to his feet and asked, May I be alone for a moment?

The priest nodded and left, but he remained just outside the door.

Though accustomed to the lack of privacy at this point, the king was no less bothered by it, and he silently moved to his desk, drew a piece of paper from one of the drawers, and dipped his quill in ink. His heart and mind were troubled as he wrote, but he felt compelled to express his true feelings from the tip of his instrument. They were words he could never express in public or to any of the numerous officials that surrounded his throne. This was the latest of many admissions, and he wrote the following words:

I am Joel Gunnar, occupant of the First Crown, defender of Celeste, accessory of the Holy Council, and a sinner in the guise of king. The dreams you have given me and the reports I have heard, they continue to trouble me. Can all of this truly be right? The transformation of our realm, the Great Destroyer and his story, are these really events of redemption? Is it even right for me to ask? This query reaches out to me from the pitched mist of a long moment’s silence and opens its hand in wait for an answer. Is it ok for me to doubt what is really happening? Am I weak to wonder if perhaps all I have known and believed to be true is wrong? Whether entirely or in part, am I condemned for asking this question of my sovereign Lord, have I understood you? Have I heard from you correctly or at all?

My experience acts as a base, and my rational mind questions why I bother to entertain this imp that prods at my certainty, but is it heresy to seek reinforcement? To wane at the loss of strength, to fade from the onset of fatigue, it can be no weakness of faith, can it? I am but a man bearing a burden for which I am not entirely sure I am suited, and yet I have seen men more terrible than myself seat this crown upon their corrupted skulls. I do not and will not assume greatness for myself, but is my request for refreshment condemnation to my loyalty? I do not think I serve a God of mystery and intrigue, one who hides His intentions and treats His servants as potential enemies. Even if the Church and Crown behave in this way, this is no reflection on you, is it? That is not the God I was taught by my mother to know, but do I know you? Do I really know you?

Please help me to understand. You have given me hope, but I am becoming lost in myself. The Destroyer is coming, and I have heard tales of his exploits and whispers of his intent. You want me to greet him, to regard him as an ally and a friend, but I am afraid. What if I am wrong? What if by doing this, I am inviting ruin to the people I am sworn to defend? But can I allow my fear to overtake my faith in you? Forgive me my lack of confidence. I am weak, but I will still do it. I hope whether I am courting an ally, an enemy, or an overzealous madman depends on where he has put his faith and where I have placed mine. I pray neither of ours is misplaced.

When Joel was finished, he placed his quill down and exhaled the anxiety from his lungs. He had either penned an expulsion of his soul’s excess grief or documented the last needed evidence of his eternal damnation. Only time would tell which was true, but he found solace in the idea that even if he presented himself with a mask to everyone else, he could at least in writing be unadorned and naked before God.

Flavio rex Gunnar, the priest addressed from the other side of the door. Are you finished?

Joel winced at the title and closed his eyes. In a moment, and after exhaling his frustration, he stood to his feet. It took time to gird his spirit in preparation for the day, and he checked himself in the mirror to be sure he was presentable. He straightened his posture, pulled back his shoulders, and lifted the angle of his face. It was a show, he told himself. He had only to play his role a little while, and then something would happen, something would change. He did not know what that something was or what it would look like, but he had to believe it was coming. This is what faith meant to him, the expectation of something promised whether he understood it or not.

Joel opened the door to greet the agitated priest who said, You are making them wait.

I was making myself ready.

You are king, Joel. You should always be ready.

Joel clenched his fist and felt the rage surge through his body and coalesce in his throat, but he kept himself from vocalizing his discontent. He instead seized the tension in his body, contained his anger, and set it aside like the majority of his emotions. I am ready now, he said instead.

The priest said nothing and led the way down the spiral staircase, and after passing through the next door at the base of the tower, they entered the throne room where a congregation awaited. His wife by assignment, Queen Genevieve, sat on a throne next to his with her typical scowl and ghostly pallor, and she did not turn to look at him even as he took his seat. She was his senior by over a decade and barren besides. It was a cruel arrangement, but he sighed and turned to the crowd ahead of him. His own treacherous court stood in their respective places close to the throne, and hedged in the center of the chamber by royal guards were the merchants, judges, and delegates from the lords under his administration. Who is first? he asked.

Your Eminence, a man said as he approached, and Joel recognized him as a merchant the queen often complained about. She did not like the appearance of his fruit stand and called it an eyesore. I have petitioned for weeks to get here so I may ask, nay, beg you, please call off the guards harassing my business. I have two daughters at home, and my only son was drafted to serve in your army. My wife and I have so little already and—.

But the Court Master of the Guard interrupted and said, It is a privilege to have a son serve in the royal army, and I’m sure you were well compensated for this.

Our…compensation, sir, was not enough to replace the life of my son, and besides this, my daughters are only—.

Have they no other pertinent services to offer in support of your fledgling business?

The man paused, and a tinge of metal edged his next statement. My daughters are being harassed as well, sir, by the same guard, and he turned to the king in search of sympathy. Your reputation precedes you, Your Eminence. You have been a righteous ruler, and I seek such a small thing. Please, and the merchant knelt down and bowed his head. Have mercy on me.

Joel’s blood grew hot, and he gripped the edge of his throne. Who are these guards?

But the Master of the Guard cautioned Joel and said, I would advise against such inquiries. We keep their identities in confidence so they are not subject to rash and unjust reprisals.

The merchant’s head darted up, and his eyes were pained with anger. Unjust? They petition my daughters for unsavory favors every other day, and then they mock me and threaten to know them without consent. I no longer allow them out of the house for fear of attack.

Do you come to the king with accusations only or do you have proof of this alleged malfeasance?

I…, and the merchant, though he shuddered with rage, lowered his face. I do not have proof. I thought since it happened so regularly that someone here would be willing to corroborate my testimony. I have been complaining to everyone who will listen for weeks now.

Does this happen to anyone else? Joel asked. Are there others in your neighborhood, family, friends, even acquaintances, willing to substantiate your testimony?

Yes, Your Majesty. Yes! So many of us have been afraid to say anything about it because of the threats, but if you are willing to listen, I’m sure—.

But the Master of the Guard rolled his eyes dismissively and said, This is ridiculous.

Irritated, Joel asked, Why?

This rabble is looking to stir up dissension among the Crown by sowing salacious rumors and unsupported assertions. Of course he will find sympathizers, Your Majesty. By his own testimony, he has been seeking an audience with you for weeks, but why bring this to your attention? This is a matter for the governor and the captains of the lower guard to handle.

I tried that already! the merchant cried. They won’t listen to me! In fact, they made the same excuses you’re making right now!

The Master of the Guard steeled his eyes and bore them down upon the merchant. You will watch your tongue before the king in this court or it will be cut out. Do you understand?

The merchant clenched his fist and lowered his head. Your Majesty, please. Believe me, please. I am not lying, and I still have faith in your goodness.

What goodness? Joel whispered.

Your Eminence?

But Joel diverted his eyes and leaned forward. I would hear you, he said aloud, but there are laws and traditions that bind me from acting without sufficient evidence. If you can provide me with something, anything—.

Sir, what evidence can I give to the Crown when it’s subjects of the Crown that are—?

But the Master of the Guard cut the merchant off again and said, Did you just interrupt the king and accuse the Crown of injustice?

Subjects of the Crown, I said! I never accused the good king of anything! Not once!

Get this scoundrel out of the court! and the Master of the Guard motioned for two members of the royal guard to seize the merchant.

Joel stood to his feet. Stop!

Your Eminence?

Joel’s court, the Queen included, turned to him with steel in their eyes, and the priest watched dutifully with eyes of judgment. Joel burned against them all, but temperance cooled his temperament as he considered the consequences of his potential actions. He could help no one if he was removed, and then the people would be subject again to another petty despot who operated at the pleasure of the Church and their ambitions. See him out gently. I do not want him harmed.

The merchant immediately cried tears of desperation. Your majesty, please! If you do this, they will never let me see you again, and they’ll come for my family! They’ll make an example out of me!

But a guard stepped forward and grabbed the merchant by his shoulders. Let’s go, you.

What is your name? Joel asked. I want to remember you.

The Master of the Guard interjected and said, This is hardly fruitful, my lord.

I have this right at least, Joel replied in anger, and I am going to exercise it. He turned again to the merchant. What is your name?

Elias, the man replied. Elias Dugan.

Sir Dugan. I can do little directly without evidence, but I swear I will have this matter investigated.

Elias prostrated himself before Joel and wept. It’s all I can ask, Your Eminence. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you.

The guards jerked Elias to his feet and said, That’s enough now. Let’s go.

Joel slowly reclaimed his seat but bristled the moment Genevieve spoke. You would have been better off not entertaining that spectacle, she said. They will consider you weak.

They already consider me weak, he replied.

Only because you continuously play into it. Steel yourself, carry out your role, and stop caring so much. No one is going to respect an invertebrate king.

You call compassion a weakness and righteous indignation a folly of judgment. If I listened to you, I would be as cold and black-hearted as you are.

At least I don’t pointlessly miss out on the benefits of royalty.

You fail to recognize the responsibilities that come with it.

Responsibilities are for the people beneath us.

We are responsible for their well-being.

The priest interrupted their discourse with a loud clearing of his throat.

If you care about them so much, the queen said, then why did you accept this role?

So I would have the power to help them.

And do you have the power now, Joel?

Joel was bitterly silent at the question.

Know your place. This is your life now, so enjoy it while it lasts. It is all either of us can do anymore.

Joel shook his head but kept his eyes fixed on the next subject. Something was off about him. Next. The man approached with a smile and knelt down in respect. His short, brown hair was arrayed too neatly for the king’s taste, and the air of false humility was off-putting. There was a distinct spirit of pride beneath the mask of humanity on display and something worse even deeper below that, something Joel felt intrinsically alarmed by. Whoever this man was felt incredibly alien, and Joel did not know why. The rest of the stranger’s attire was unimpressive. He wore a fitted leather jacket of burnt umber that was closed with four belts, a white shirt underneath, and black banded trousers. The only thing of note was the metalwork of a winged serpent coiling a gemstone of red beryl which hung from the pendant on his neck. Joel was unsure what to make of this but felt he needed to set his discomfort aside. The people were waiting for him to speak and could clearly see he was disturbed. What brings you to my court?

Forgive me my king, but does my presence offend you? You seem a bit agitated.

I am fine. State your name and purpose for coming here.

Tyrianus Faust, Tyrian for short, and I’ve come to offer my services to the court.

What services?

I have traveled the eight provinces, and the people are afraid. They feel lost, vulnerable, and incapable of pleasing the Church and Crown. The Holy Assembly, inimitable as they are, has yet to quell the discontent in their hearts, and I fear this disconnect between the common folk and the Celestial Order will result in a calamity that even this indomitable administration will be unable to contain. Me and my associates would like to serve as liaisons between Your Eminence, the Holiest of Holies, and the common folk.

We have delegates, governors, and spies who already fulfill this role. What can you provide that they cannot?

Efficiency and speed, Your Eminence. Efficiency and speed and, might I add, a more thorough report on the hearts and minds of all parties involved. These men in your employ can hear words and see actions, and maybe the more astute can discern natures and sensibilities, but I can secure you rock solid truths about anyone in the realm anywhere about anything at any time, guaranteed.

How is that possible?

Risks aside, if I were to spill the secrets of my operation here, my liege, what’s to stop some ambitious young pup from trying to muscle in on my business? But if you were to grant me a private audience, I would gladly divulge my devices and methods, and then you could decide on your own whether my services are worth the asking price.

Joel did not trust him, but before he could utter a word, the queen said, I’ve heard of you. Arthur said your prognostications were remarkably accurate.

I wouldn’t go so far as to call them prognostications, but I can understand how my king in the sixth province would see it that way.

Genevieve turned to Joel. He would make a great asset to the court. Arthur approves of him.

I don’t approve of Arthur, Joel replied, and I don’t trust this man either.

Perhaps a demonstration of my ability is in order? Tyrian suggested. If you don’t mind.

Joel felt compelled to refuse and hurry the man out of the room before his charm could ensnare more of the crowd, but Genevieve once again spoke first. Please, and when she saw the disapproval on Joel’s face, she said, What harm can it do?

Faust clapped his hands together and rubbed them. As you wish, and after clasping them securely behind his back, he stood tall and asked, What do you want to know? I can tell you anything about anyone. Near, far, living, dead, don’t matter. What do you want?

The queen turned to Joel, and Joel tried to think of a matter pertinent to him. I can ask about anyone regarding anything?

Indeed you can.

And you will guarantee the accuracy of your report?

That’s right.

At what cost?

What would you ask?

Let’s say your life. Genevieve gasped with surprise at the suggestion and the audience mumbled among themselves. This was out of character for Joel, and though he understood the reaction, his intuition was practically screaming at him to rid the realm of this man. He had never felt this way about anyone before, so he believed he was dealing with an exceptional case. What say you? Would you be willing to stake your life on these claims?

Faust laughed, and he laughed with such vigor that it silenced the chamber and unnerved Joel all the more. When he was done, he leveled his eyes with Joel and said, For you, my king, I would stake a thousand lives.

Something from deep within Joel’s heart screamed at him to put this man out and not indulge anything he had to say, but Joel’s curiosity got the best of him, and he remembered Elias. The man who was here before, Sir Dugan. Was he telling the truth?

Tyrian nodded. He most certainly was.

And can you deliver the names of the guards harassing him and his family?

I can give you their names, locations, and the names of everyone who helped cover it up so you wouldn’t know.

The Master of the Guard, shaken by the assertion, stepped forward and said, That’s not possible. It would take weeks of investigation to find that information, and you’re an outsider.

Faust chuckled and said, My dear friend Ananias, I just gave the king a guarantee and staked my life on it.

Ananias trembled and immediately felt the maw of an unseen horror open wide to consume him. He did not understand it, but since he could see nothing, he asked, How…how did you know my name? I never mentioned my name.

Now what kind of a…, and Faust paused to dislodge the disgust in his mouth. pardon me, man would I be if I backed out now? I certainly wouldn’t be a living one so to speak, now would I?

Joel turned to Ananias and glared. Do you have something you wish to confess?

The Master of the Guard felt bound and committed to an inescapable fate, but fear inundated his faculties and spurred his heart to flee. He threw his ceremonial armaments to the ground and ran.

Tyrian whistled as Ananias dashed past, but Joel rose from his throne and commanded, Seize him now! The royal guard immediately subdued Ananias and brought him back to face the king’s justice, and Joel, pitiless, stared down at him. You will pay for what you’ve done. Take him to the stockade. His associates will be joining him shortly. Ananias said nothing as he was hauled away. He only wept, but such tears were wasted on Joel. He sat down, clasped his hands in front of him, and stared at Tyrianus Faust.

I technically didn’t give you the first name, Tyrian said, but all the same, shall we say this was sufficient?

Give me the rest of the information in writing tonight, give it to me only, and I will grant you an opportunity to make your proposal.

Then we have a deal.

We have an arrangement. There will be no deal until I can verify for myself what kind of a man you really are.

Tyrian nodded and smiled. Fair enough.

Get out of my court.

Faust smiled, bowed courteously, and left the chamber in high spirits. He whistled a melody during his exit, a melody no one could place or recognize, but once he was gone, the room seemed to brighten, and the foreboding tension that accumulated during his presence left with him.

Joel leaned back in his seat with a curious sense of relief. Something wrong had taken place, something he could not explain, but he appeared to be the only one aware of it in the room. He scanned the faces of the queen, his court, and the audience. They were surprised, intrigued, and curious, but none of them were afraid. How could they see what happened and not be concerned? Joel turned to Genevieve, and she was excited. Why are you so happy?

So you do have teeth. A pity you don’t bare them more often.

You trust him, don’t you?

I never liked Ananias, and you saw what happened. He will be an asset like I said. If nothing else, he can reinforce the channels of information we already have, and you can use him to help administer this justice you keep going on about. Just remember something.

What?

What he knows about others, he can know about you.

Was that a warning from Arthur? How typically cryptic of him.

I do not believe he was being cryptic.

How do you mean?

Genevieve straightened her posture and said, I mean what I said, dear. Now do you wish to continue or not?

Joel wanted to probe, but he instead turned his attention back to the assembly of others awaiting their turn in line. The day had only started, and he was already weary, but Joel was a king, and it was not the luxury of kings to shirk the responsibility of their duties. Next.

Later that night, Joel paced back and forth as he waited in his bedchamber for Tyrian to arrive. This is wrong, he uttered to himself, and he repeated this several times over. He could not reason out why this was so, and he could not foresee the consequences of the act, but his ignorance could not shake the conviction. Why am I doing this?

The door opened, and the priest entered with Tyrian following behind. Take your time, the priest said, and he left closing the door behind him.

Joel looked quizzically at the priest as he departed. Take my time? Since when…? but he shook his head of the matter. Never mind that. Did you produce what I asked for?

Tyrian smiled and handed over his report. It’s all there.

Joel sat at his desk and scanned the text while Faust examined the room. There were three names, their locations as of that moment, and where they would be over the next three hours. Two of them would be asleep. After that was a list of their immediate associates, their captain, and the former Master of the Guard, Ananias. The governor is conspicuously absent, Joel noticed. How could he not know what was happening?

Oh he knew, Tyrian said. He just wasn’t in the chain.

What chain?

Faust lifted his right index finger and said, The guards’ names, their locations, and the names of everyone who helped cover it up so you wouldn’t know. That was the deal, remember?

So you’re saying he wanted me to know but couldn’t tell me?

But Tyrian lifted both hands in surrender. I supply the information asked of me, Your Eminence. The interpretation is yours to make.

I see, and Joel set the report aside. You appear rather resourceful for a man who’s newly arrived. Were you already scouting for cases? Did you already know about Sir Dugan and his plight?

I only came to the city yesterday, my king. In my line of work, it pays to keep moving.

Yes, you did mention how well-traveled you are. Will you then clue me in to your methods? What did you employ in your line of work to procure this information?

A black spark ignited behind the eyes of Faust. Yes, well, let’s just say I am very well connected.

But Joel shook his head. I have no interest in mysteries nor do I have the patience for vagaries. Answer my question or otherwise assume we will have no deal and depart from here.

I’ve got to say, you drive a hard bargain, my king, but okay, and he clasped his hands behind his back. You’re a praying man, so by necessity, you believe in spirits as well, correct?

I don’t concern myself with spirits apart from the Highest One, but yes.

Well I know a network of spirits with whom I do concern myself, and they in turn concern themselves with me.

So you’re a soothsayer.

But Tyrian shook his head. Selling unsettled information about the future is a losing man’s game. No, Your Eminence. I can only guarantee the here and now.

You listed where those guards would be in the next three hours.

That’s not foretelling. That’s just their schedule for today, and that bit of extra was given for free. I typically charge a premium for projections because you can never be sure whether or not someone will suddenly change their mind. Free will is tricky like that.

So dark magic and sorcery.

A twinge of irritation appeared on the face of Faust. Magic is for…, but his countenance suddenly brightened as he said, Salians and anybody else interested in that sort of thing. I’m simply a broker of information. You demand with a question, I supply with the facts. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s just that simple.

Facts you procure from the Spirit Realm.

My sources are verified and have never been wrong. Not once.

And the price of your services? I am not selling my soul for this.

Tyrian laughed. Now what would I do with the likes of a soul?

Is that not a common exchange?

Souls are well beyond the range of prices I can afford to charge, but you are right to assume I don’t deal in something as crude as material currency.

Then what kind of currency do you seek?

Functions, favors, and energies. That’s the sort of thing we trade in over in the hereafter. Your coffers? They needn’t see the light of day when it comes to me and mine, and even what we ask isn’t really all that much. Our highest price is little more than a favor or two, but all in all, what we offer is a bargain compared to the competition.

What competition?

Between you and me, anyone requiring your soul and undying loyalty is asking too high of a price. Paying it shows a lack of respect for one’s own value and self-worth, and you’re a king. You value yourself more than a peasant does, don’t you? And you want to be certain about things, right? Who doesn’t want a little bit of certainty in their lives?

Joel paused. So what would you ask of me?

The price depends on what you want to know, Your Eminence. You demand with a question, and I supply with the facts. Costs come after, but know for certain that once you start asking, you are locked into the deal. This is a verbal contract signed with a commitment to the deed.

Don’t do it! It was a light voice, faint, ethereal, and far away that Joel did not recognize. He thought his mind had played a trick on him or was otherwise a result of the apprehension he felt.

But Faust was clearly annoyed by the intrusion. Your Eminence, he said flatly. Do we have a deal or don’t we?

A small but effective prick of self-justification threaded an excuse through Joel’s mind. He could start small and see what happens. Surely nothing of consequence would occur regarding things he already knew the answer to. Genevieve, he started. Has she ever been faithful to me?

No. Not even once.

It stung him to hear the confirmation aloud, but this was not unexpected. Her illicitness was only barely concealed from him. Did Arthur…? Nevermind. That was a matter he did not want confirmation on. The priest. Does he know of my concerns, of my doubts regarding the Church?

He sees your doubts but doesn’t know the details. He combs through your room whenever he can looking for evidence of faithlessness and so-called heresy.

Can I still trust Governor Harris?

Explicitly. That man will do anything for you.

I see.

Faust frowned. My king, if I may. Why don’t you ask me a real question? This is stuff you already know, so you and I really don’t get anything out of it.

I take it verification is unprofitable?

Hardly worth collecting on, but collect I still must. Tyrian drew closer. Your Eminence. There has to be something you really want to know. Something worth my particular expertise and your particularly precious time?

Joel had doubts, but he also had many suspicions and most would likely be low cost in confirming. A subject about which he had virtually no knowledge then came to mind, a subject he had naught to go on but faith, but he hesitated to ask. Even if it was through dreams and impressions, he was asked by God to trust Him on this. Would requesting information count as a breach of that faith, or would it shed light on who he was truly receiving revelation from?

Faust leaned forward. You have a real question, don’t you? Why the hesitation, my king? Courting the competition? Comparing prices? I’ve already stated my terms. Have they stated theirs?

What would this cost him?

Know your worth, Eminence, and ask me what you will.

The Great Destroyer, Joel said. Is he really coming?

Faust grinned from ear to ear. There we go. Yes, he’s coming. In fact, he’s almost here already.

And you can tell me anything I want to know about him?

Anything you could possibly ask.

Then…then I want to know. I want to know everything. Where he’s coming from, what he’s done, why he’s coming, and what he wants. I want to know it all.

Faust laughed and clapped his hands. Those are some very good questions, Your Eminence! and he settled back into a smile. Yes. Those are some very good questions indeed.

At this same time, the Great Destroyer paused as he stepped within view of the old city of Celeste. He sneezed which caused the damage in his chest to ache, and an unexplained chill of uncertainty coursed through his body. He chalked the feelings up to ancient anxieties and thought nothing more of it, but the fractured bones and damaged organs were a more serious matter. Easy, he told himself, and he steadied his breathing. It’s been a while, and he decided to take a moment to rest and reminisce.

He was a young man by all appearances, but his eyes conveyed lifetimes of knowledge, conflict, and trauma. His raven-colored hair adorned a dark complexion which was further clothed in an eccentric ensemble borrowing aspects from the Saline, Burning, Hollow, and Aural Realms. His shirt was topped with a stiff upper collar that surrounded his neck, and they along with his long pants were dyed to reflect a dark violet hue. The sleeves of his shirt went only as far as his shoulders, and a sash was tied around his waist with stretches of fabric that ran down the front and back. On the fabrics was an emblem that resembled a torch, and adorned around his arms were a pair of orange bands edged with green beads on red tassels. Attached to his right side was a Firan hunting knife, the only weapon on his person, his hands were covered by a pair of black gloves, and a sequence of blue patterns ran along the contours of his outfit. On his back was a black emblem composed of a circle cradled by flame, and this emblem in particular was uniquely special to him.

He had gone by many titles over the course of the two-century Magic War, a war that consumed most of his life. He was the Harbinger, the Great Beast, the Terror, the Great Destroyer, and the Reaper of Cilica. Upon return to the Saline Realm, he was given the new title of Firestar and Deloran as a last name, but these were not given as adornments of honor. His identity was used as a canvas upon which the High Elders projected victory against the Outer Realms, and ever since he delivered that victory, not only did their projections weigh down on him but the projections of others as a result of what he did. At first, he tried to ignore it, and then he was partly consumed by it, but after a time of trial, correction, and reflection, he decided to finally take ownership and make it his own. Regardless of what everyone else called him, regardless of their ideas of what his name meant, he knew who he was. To those who did not know him, this meant he was little more than a monster, but to himself, he knew at his core that he was and would always be a person, and that person’s name was Darrio.

Darrio placed his right hand on his chest and once again tried to heal the damage. He could mend the bones and accelerate his natural healing, but it would still take an expert in restoration or the human body to give him a diagnosis of how extensive the injuries truly were. To remember they were self-inflicted only added insult to the whole affair. He needed a safe place to stay while he recovered, and while Celeste was not his favorite option, it was his best one.

He thought twice about entering the city at night and decided to lie back and finish his trek the following day. His ribs ached as he stretched but settled once he was still. How long had it been since the day he left? So much had happened since then, he could scarcely mark out the time.

After two centuries of fighting in a war started by others, the High Elders of the victorious Saline Realm hounded Darrio out of fear. He tried to ignore them and the world at large, but after rescuing a girl named Saria and losing her to an ancient organization, he lashed out resulting in his exile from the Saline Realm. He traveled through the Burning and Stony Realms after that to find and destroy the ones responsible for Saria’s death, and while he made limited gains in the former location, he was able to find and dissolve them in the latter. After leaving the nations of both lands to fend for themselves, he went into the Hollow Realm and found a companion in who was once an adversary. Together, they found a home where he became the leader of the community, but to protect that home, he ventured out once more and entered the Silent Realm. There he uncovered an abominable development that would threaten to consume all of the nations in the land, but with the help of a local alchemist among other external factors, the contamination was contained and calamity averted. In Darrio’s haste to leave the corrupted lands, he injured himself while crossing the Tauren border, and there was still so much more to be said in the details of these events, but Darrio was in no state to recall everything. After a terribly long journey, he was able to make it safely without being detected and without collapsing, and for the time being, this was enough.

The sky was clear and cloudless, and the stars arrayed in the endless void burned as steady as the light in Darrio’s eyes. He drew another breath and then exhaled in a simultaneous expression of recognition and acceptance. So much had changed since the end of the war, but his amendments to world maps notwithstanding, the most significant alterations were to his own state of mind. Over the course of his journey, he met people and experienced things he never would have had he remained an isolationist. Despite how many times he expressed a desire to be left alone, after everything that occurred, he appreciated how often he was not. I’ve changed, he uttered aloud. I didn’t want to change. I didn’t want to learn magic in the first place, but, and he shrugged, breathed deeply once again, and looked deeper into the heavens. I guess you had other plans for me.

A gust of wind swept over his head.

Yeah, he responded. Yeah, I guess I’m not really mad about it anymore. I mean I trust you now unlike before when I was just scared of you, and now I’ve got all this extra stuff to process. I can’t even believe I’m going to say this, but…I’m going to need help with all of this.

That’s what you have us for, genius.

Darrio’s body stiffened from the sudden, unsolicited presence, but he refrained from jumping this time. The Night Bearer had already done this too many times. I swear, Darrio said with clenched fists, one of these days, you’re going to do this at the wrong time, and I’m going to hurt you.

Yeah, probably, and the Night Bearer, Shyo, took a seat beside Darrio. His dark hair rustled lightly in the wind, and his confident eyes took in the horizon. He was dressed in his usual all-black attire, and the dense, heavy sword on his left side dug into the ground as he sat. Nice view.

Shyo was still wearing a silver gauntlet on his right hand, and it once again drew Darrio’s attention. Are you still fighting?

Yeah, but I had to leave for a minute. It’s a mess back there.

Shyo was referring to the Silent Realm, and Darrio hesitated to ask. Did I do any good back there?

Shyo shot Darrio an incredulous look. Are you serious right now? but Darrio’s expression did not change. What you did with that alchemist and the cage was genius. Malice is stuck, and it’s keeping Mara from spreading into the other realms, so yeah. I’d say you did a lot of good back there. Why is that even a question?

You could humor me once in a while.

I’m not good at that sort of thing, boss. You know me.

Why are you even here?

First, I delivered the package to the guy you wanted. He says hi by the way. Second, you’re about to have me and Shyoa onboard as your permanent retainers, but before that happens, I’m going to be unreachable for a while.

Why?

I mean there is a war going on in the Silent Realm, and we have alliances to honor, promises to keep, it’s a whole complicated thing. You don’t want to know about all of that.

But you’re still here, so that can’t be the only reason.

Yeah, it’s not. Truth is…well, truth is I can’t help you on this one even if you do call for me.

Why not?

Per my instructions, I am not to interfere in anything that’s happening in the Aural Realm even if it involves you in particular. This whole area is strictly Shyoa’s problem to handle. To be fair, he couldn’t set foot in the Silent Realm, so it evens out.

Okay, so why is that a problem? What’s bugging you?

There’s something big wandering around in the Aural Realm, and it’s generally been my job to put a lid on things like that.

I don’t understand.

Let me put it this way. I’m a darksider, and as a darksider, I’m able to feel out this field we’re all connected to. Now most people don’t even register on my senses because they’re too small. They’re like little bugs walking around on a sheet of paper. Then you have beings like Malice and Mara, heavy enough on their own to be a problem but still manageable. After them are the angels. After them is the dead god you found, and then there’s you. You’re heavy enough to punch a hole in the sheet, but you’re the boss so being that heavy is to be expected. This thing in the Aural Realm is something else entirely. It’s not sitting on the sheet. It’s pulling on it, and it’s pulling in too many kinds of ways to just be one thing. It doesn’t make sense.

But you’re not allowed to help me with it.

I’m not allowed to mess with it at all. It’s like back when I was fighting Mr. Obstinate and I got the instruction to stand down and lose. I’m thinking it probably has something to do with the transition, but I just can’t put my finger on what could—.

Transition? What transition?

Shyo stopped abruptly. I wasn’t supposed to mention that, and he quickly stood to his feet. See, this is what happens when I stay in one place for too long. I get to talking and say things I shouldn’t say. I mean it usually works out in the end, but Shyoa says I still need to reign it in sometimes, so I should probably get moving.

You can’t tell me anything else about what’s ahead?

It’s more like I don’t really know much about what’s ahead. What I can say is that whatever this is, it’s big, it’s old, and it’s dangerous. I want to say it probably doesn’t belong here either, but…I don’t know, that statement might be pushing it. Either way, this is primarily Shyoa’s turf, so he can fill you in on the details whenever he shows up. I just wanted to get to you first since we already have a thing going on between us.

What thing?

Our thing, boss. It’s a thing we have. I don’t have a word for the thing, but it’s our thing. We have a thing.

Fine. Calm down. I’ll take your word for it.

Shyo smiled. I’ll see you when I see you, boss, but he paused. Be careful out there, alright? After this, the Night Bearer was enveloped in a sheath of darkness, and when it dispersed, he was gone from the site.

Darrio leaned back until he was flat on the ground. "I’ve barely