"Physical bounds are but obstacles to one's goal to freedom; sever them, and the path is yours to take."
~Tasmiya Shaik
REALM OF MYTHGAR
Engmaar Ruins
13:37 p.m
An extension of his debility and failure as a warrior of the Warcan tribes were the metal chains that bound the beast in captivity. His unknown containment offered naught except for the distasteful scent of wet rock—a dungeon of sorts. Iron bars of old forged into the stone. He clawed at the metal chains; however, his bounds were infused with arcane magics that negated his efforts.
It was as though an anomaly of the shadows hindered at his back and obviated his attempts to establish a telepathic connection with his master, like a grasp of skeletal fingers that siphoned the scant residues of his energy.
The last he could put to memory was his pursuit of the enemy that infiltrated the Reinhardt Villa in Ethuaria. The land here exuded a strange aura of darkness, much different compared to the likes of Ethuaria. However, both lands shared a common trait...they suffered from the tyrannical reign of their occupants. He prayed that his Master would endure his absence.
~Kai...I feel your agony...the pain of separation is unbearable...~
Was he not a beast of nature? Should the earthy scents of his containment plague him nauseatingly as it did? Perhaps it was the underlying darkness that cowered beneath the land that had incited the foreign feeling within him.
The sound of recurring drops of water through the stone cracks ceased its advance when the rusted creak of iron invaded the atmosphere of the barren cell. The Warcan beast growled with disdain at the creature who claimed the persona of a hume male. His skin was crafted with black rounded scales embedded into the muscled physique. A gold outline glow emphasized the shape of each individual scale and created a network of intersecting lines that surged through his body.
Red rune markings of the ancient Narrak language defined the length of his arms and face. Long, dark rich brown hair scattered around his broad frame. The upper half of his body was bare, and a long red, rectangular material of sorts was secured around his waist to conceal the lower half. Serpent-like, vengeful eyes regarded the Warcan beast odiously.
'Soran. The once-loyal hound under the command of Lahn is here at my mercy?' The creature laughed cynically and crouched before Soran. 'Hound? Ah, my apologies, wretched feline of the Phaxani tribe.'
~A fatuous bastard of the Narrak would speak of loyalty and know nothing of such honor.~ Soran bared his fangs.
Aggravated by the remark, the Narrak creature outstretched its arm of barbed scales. Talons protruded from the tips of his hand and struck Soran with three long gashes across his left eye. The wound burned with the residues of venom from the creature's strike; however Soran dared not to grimace at the inflicted pain and raised his head high with pride.
~Enraged by a petty remark? I would have thought you creatures of ancient blood were better than succumbing to the likes of a mere child, Vaughan.~
Vaughan snorted with arrogance and circled Soran.
'You are of little interest to me, Soran. What I seek is the one whose veins run richly with the blood of our war chief. An Asharren bastard who wields a spirit of the Taurnak tribe within him.'
An Asharren warrior who wielded a Warcan beast spirit of the Taurnak tribe? There were few who possessed such capabilities of infusing with a Taurnak beast, for they were the most formidable and ferocious beasts of the seven Warcan tribes. The possibilities varied however, in a clouded state of mind, Soran could not find the mental strength to rule out the candidates. The venom had impaled its target. Time could not be leisurely wasted.
~I know not whom you speak of.~
'It is no concern of a mere foot soldier to be knowledgeable about such a thing, Warcan bastard. The one we seek will surely come, and I will be the one to severe his head from his shoulders. You were a fool to pursue my subordinate; I thought you a warrior better than the greenhorn Warcan beast I faced two thousand and seven hundred somewhat years ago.'
Weariness struck Soran in his most vulnerable state, he could no longer conjure the strength to retaliate, and his most applicable option was to surrender with silence. One who possessed the blood of a Narrak creature? Did such a warrior exist within the seven Aldari Clans? He could not delay the strategy of his escape any longer. The fate of the Aldari weighed heavily on his ability to return to his kin. Should the words of a Narrak creature concern him? It was not in his current capabilities to discern. He required information but time was not in his favor.
'You and I share a common trait, Soran,' Vaughan roared with vicious laughter. 'We are creatures of darkness, lurkers of the night.' He smirked. 'Rot until death claims you. Ah, my apologies, you are but a spiritual form. A memory of who you once were. Suffer until you fade, black panther of the Phaxani tribe.'
Realm of Alvgard
Outskirts of Eizgár Highlands
15:48 p.m
Uneasiness stirred within Sebastian with each gallop of his durein beast. The silence of the three warriors that rode behind him did not assist in calming the storm that brew. A feeling of weariness began to dominate his will. Surely it was not his wounds? The healer's remedy had defeated the forces of the Trionitus, and his check-up confirmed that the pathogen had been completely eradicated. So what was the cause of his weariness?
'My Lord, we will reach the edge of the Starling forest soon. Should I ride ahead to and open the dimensional gate? I believe the rune symbols crafted by my father are still of legible use,' The young warrior guided his beast to ride alongside him.
Sebastian approved with a nod and briefly glanced over his left shoulder.
'Ravelier, accompany Romulus.'
'Aye, my Lord.' Ravelier heeded the order of his Lord and snapped the reigns of his durein beast to ride ahead with Romulus.
The awkwardness of the atmosphere was more apparent than before now that Sebastian was left in the company of his son, who resented him and a reserved warrior who served under Ravelier.
Had he been too harsh with Lithanius? The young warrior was but a mere cycle and a half. He had yet to understand the gravity of his decisions and the consequences they would bring about in the future. How did one counsel their child about such things? Especially one who was stubborn and irrational. He had only himself to blame. By all means possible, he would take the stand to correct his incompetence as a father. Had Lithanius truly resent him as he believed?
~What should it matter?~ A foreign voice spoke. A voice that did not belong to Lahn. A hoarse whisper that spoke from within.
~What have you done with Lahn?~ Sebastian's expression darkened.
~That Warcan wretch has no power in my presence.~ The words echoed in his mind.
~What are you?~
~I am born from your darkness. I am who you cannot be. I am who you must choose to be, Sebastian Alexander Reinhardt, son of Zelaphiel.~ The voice muttered, and Sebastian's durein beast's gallops grew violent and unsteady.
'Father?' Lithanius said in question as his father's durein beast seemed unstable on its hooves.
~If you wish for the beast to calm down, heed to my call, Sebastian...~
~What is it that you want?~
~The time nears for you to choose. You must decide between the true blood that runs through you and the Warcan beast that lives within you...he is not to be trusted...~
~I will be the one to decide who is to be trusted. Begone.~
~You cannot stray from the path of choice...I will return.~
The voice retreated, and Sebastian's durein beast regained its control and stability.
'It is nothing; the beast is uneasy as we near Mythgar,' Sebastian reassured his son, but Lithanius did not easily accept such an answer however, his instinct advised him to remain silent.
Sebastian cleared his mind and inhaled the sweet air of the highlands, it calmed his senses, but the feeling of weariness did not wane easily. It was not his own. It was another who bore such agony.
~Lahn, do you hear me?~
The Warcan beast did not heed his call. It was still and quiet, perhaps overtaken by slumber. To whom did the foreign voice belong to and what did it know of his father? An Asharren warrior Sebastian had never spoken to.
OUTSKIRTS OF EIZGÁR
Reinhardt Estate.
16:09 p.m
Deep within the labyrinth of secrets that slumbered beneath the Reinhardt castle, in a particularly sacred chamber, there laid a creature of Asharren flesh. It was bound in chains of magical energy and roots of the ethereal tree that encased the creature within its bark.
The chamber was barren except for the holy light that radiated from the magical properties of the tree. The cobblestone floor was overtaken by the intrusion of greenery, vines, and moss of like.
A jewel of blood-red was physically etched onto the region of the creature's chest, and the menacing crimson glow that many claimed was dead ignited the jewel after many eons of it's peaceful rest.