Come what may…
A void of darkness enters; it did not arrive upon a world. It forms nothing but obscurity, the very thing of hunger itself. And when it moves, the universe trembles.
It passed through the cosmos. It reaps and devours, it hungers, it feeds on anything.
Stars dimmed in its wake… light bent away. Even the hunger of a black hole was silenced… consumed before it could consume.
It had no shape, no form, only appetite. A void that devoured not matter, but presence itself. It shakes the very essence of the universe, as it cloaks everything to nothing.
Come what may…
There, the cosmic entity visits a certain world. Baring its teeth, it drools in deprivation. Not by sight… but something deeper, a presence.
Below, beneath an ancient tree whose roots had outlived kingdoms, rest an old man. Weathered robes still breathed from the cold, soft breeze.
The old man's eyes did not look up, but through Azageis's presence, the void stirred. To the entity that crawls through the universe, it now pauses upon perceiving Azageis's message.
It calls, and it senses… the presence of the outside world. Azageis looks at the animals that feed on the ground, and at that moment, all of them, even insects of many things gaze through the sky, through the cosmos, through the void that famines. Azageis, however, did not look up but felt the entity's presence; he invites a challenge… testing the entity to see if it will remain true to its nature.
Azageis spoke, not loudly, not with force. But with certainty…
"Withdraw yourself, old friend, back to where you came from."
And for the first time, the entity hesitated. Not from fear. But from recognition.
The hunger recoiled. Not in retreat…but in refusal. For even that which devours all things… knows when it has reached something it cannot claim. Or perhaps it fears something more… something it cannot consume.
Come what may…
Far away from whence the old wizard rests. The gravity of calamity that the two had fashioned ravaged parts of the land. Forest burns, sky turns dark, thunder echoes as lightning still spears the land.
Soldiers are on alert, adventurers spread through the kingdom, to villages, to the city. The remaining protectors are ordered to stay where royalties reside.
At the top of the curtain wall stood two distinctive people. Facing the source of destruction, Ferish tightly grips her golden staff.
By her side was none other than the hero's descendant, calmly guarding the priestess with confidence. Chin stood high, as Roland's eyes watched every corner, every second. Soon, Roland felt uneasy by the silence between them.
The priestess's hand reaches to the sky and, from the air, creates a sphere of water. Levitating in her palm, Ferish then cast it towards the sky, which vomits thunder and lightning.
Not an hour, the harrowing sky dimmer in mere minutes. And what exchange was the cry of rainfall, extinguishing the fire that feeds through the land.
A pause of silence once again—
Clearing his throat—
"May I ask, Lady Ferish… what was your experience like, travelling with Grandfather Seth?"
Ferish looks up, then down, towards the dense town, which is gradually recovering from the aftermath.
"I-I—" She stammers, as her eyes look away. "He was a great man; a troublesome one to be with." A faint smile, barely there for Roland to notice. "Stubborn… sometimes reckless. He had a habit of walking into danger as if it were a conversation waiting to happen. But it was perhaps the most interesting thing that I have ever experienced..."
The conversation halted, though it didn't take long for it to be continued.
She grips her staff slightly tighter. "And yet… people followed him. Not because he asked them to… but because they believed he would walk back out of it."
"That doesn't sound like the man I hear about." Roland jokes.
Ferish utters quietly. "No… but perhaps some would say otherwise."
Right after that comes another suspension.
"You seem quite fond of him, I can tell."
Ferish slowly smile, "I suppose you saw through me." She looks down, contemplating for another reason, then finally— "There are words… I once thought I could keep for later… I was wrong. I loved him even before we met. No, before he even met me."
Initially, all the heavy emotions she had been holding began to lift. And what followed was another silence.
Soon after comes another subject.
"The world does not wait for us to be ready." Ferish lifts her gaze toward the horizon. "Not then… and not now."
Roland, slight shift, sensing a change, "What do you mean?"
"Something has changed, the air, and I sense the different realms shift… even the way the land breathes." She paused. "There is a presence moving again. Something older… something that does not belong to this age…"
"I fear, perhaps, the unresolved past argument," Ferish then glanced at Ragarish. "But what if… You are the one."
"Draw your sword that I may look at it." The priestess continues.
Not hesitating to give, Roland draws upon his holy weapon. Ferish felt the gleam of its radiant power, but still she sensed it was still incomplete.
"May I?" Ferish then extends her hand.
Freely offered his weapon, causing the sword's blade to turn transparent, resembling water. To the priestess's hand, she sensed no weight or heaviness; it felt as light as a feather.
"As I thought, the sword needs its other half."
"Other half?"
Ferish nods. "Yes, Seth likely hid it where it came from, but I worry it won't be easy to recover."
At that moment, she saw something in Roland as if she was looking beyond the man she once admired. His eyes show no fear, but determination… the same eyes that she once gazed at when hope was nowhere to be grasped.
Sheathing back the holy sword.
"You said people followed him because they believed he would return… I wonder if he ever believed that himself." He paused, then steadier. "Either way… I don't intend to walk away from this."
Ferish's gaze widened as she stood beside the descendant of the man that she once followed, bringing something on her. It was as if she had just returned from her previous life, her preceding journey.
Ferish smiled and extended her hand. "Then it would be my pleasure to aid you, Sir Roland."
And so, a new purpose has come between the two. A new journey that will set another fate and destiny.
Departure from the land of Keshoval comes to a place where light dims. In a chamber where darkness resides, a group of mortals is in a conference. Shadows mask, hiding their very face, yet they spoke of frustration.
Sitting on a round table—
"What now?!" A man's voice begins, upset and cold. "Korveth is dead! And the rest of his servants are now without a master. Our plans have been foiled, and Hawk's minions are sabotaging every hideout we have."
"Calm yourself, there is still much we can do. I have arranged some ways to fulfil our master's desire. Many will take Korveth's place… and I know someone." Replied the other, but calmer and commanding.
"Hmm…" Comes the third one. "Perhaps there would be someone whom I would like to introduce that might help us in our troubles… Though he might bargain for something valuable to us." The man continues, turning his head towards the very person.
At the back stood a tall mortal, his hair gleaming from the hazy light. Tall as that of Norrevelian. Even with the shadows that mask his appearance, the figure was that of an elf, a high-elf. And from his presence, the room felt silent. Even without the leaking of his essence, his elvish power the group felt heavy.
"And what does he offer us in return?" Spoke the man with an upset tone.
A smile gleams from the third man… "More than we can appreciate."
The group of men continues their words while the elf stands in silence. And after half an hour of debating, comes a conclusion—
"We will give you what you need, but first… the artefact will need more time with us. And we'll help you recover the others; will that be satisfactory?"
Not a word to speak, the elf nods.
Shadows crept, and soon the chamber was filled with the void of darkness, erasing the presence of the mortals who resided there.
To the man, the traveller—
Natalak's eyes steadily open. Vision still blurry, but over time, the surroundings became clearer.
Awakened and felt a warm rope attaching to his wrist.
Pulling his arm, what he saw was that of a golden rope wrapped three times, connected to a flaming orb.
"The heck?!"
He tries to yank the rope, only to give a burning sensation not from his flesh but his soul. Suddenly, his mind reminds him of his bag.
"Where's my—"
He paused when the door opened, and from the person who walked inside the room was the lady paladin herself—Ashalain.
"What the—"
His jaw drops, mouth agape as he stares.
Ashalain slowly came forward. Unbothered by the expression from the man. And when she was only a few three feet away from Natalak.
"Hi." Natalak raised his arms, smiling. "Nice to meet you, again."