Drillohiem
Drillohiem ran, desperate to escape the green beings that followed his every step. "What are these beings?" Drillohiem asked himself, he spoke quietly, under his breath, for fear that they may hear him and attack.
The green beings seemed intent upon following closely behind, but never bothered to get closer. Even so, Drillohiem had felt the cold and chilling embrace of death these creatures inflicted upon those they touch and wished to escape them.
The land(?) Drillohiem ran on was smooth and flat. Nothing obscured his footing and yet, Drillohiem found it difficult to move with each step. Drillohiem could help but think for a moment of how this felt like a nightmare he had as a child. He could see his goal in sight, yet his legs couldn't, wouldn't move quick enough and soon, he would be caught by the monsters that chased him.
Just as Drillohiem's strength was about to give out, a doorway appeared before him. Stumbling through the door, Drillohiem quickly turned around without examining the room and closed the door. Drillohiem laid his head upon the door, panting from the unaccustomed exercise, it was cooling to Drillohiem's fevered skin.
Drillohiem didn't think to turn around and search to see if any of those things were in this room, or even if this was a room. Drillohiem didn't know where he was nor did he bother to care, all that mattered was a moment's rest and the cool touch of the door.
Sounds started forming behind Drillohiem, the sound of someone clearing their throat, the shifting of movement, whispers. Drillohiem turned around, his hand instinctively going to Oathbreaker. Before him lay a round table and sitting at the table were several of the green creatures, but these seemed different. Unlike those outside of this room, these hadn't tried to reach out to him, nor had they tried to touch him.
"Drillohiem," one said, "come sit. We have much of great importance to discuss."
Drillohiem looked around the room and silently reached for the door. It was gone, replaced by empty air.
"We sent the door away, for now, and will bring it back once our meeting has concluded." Another said.
Cassandra
Cassandra stood in the practice fields for her soldiers. Since her experience with The Reaper, Grall, Cassandra had confined herself to her room, permitting none entry, this was her first day in the sunlight.
Cassandra raised her sword and took a fighting stance. Her sword arm felt weak, probably from the time she spent locked up in her room. She had refused most forms of nourishment, only eating or drinking when it was necessary. Her once beautiful white skin now sagged and had the appearance of the dead.
No one would tell her this for fear that she may lock herself up once more. Cassandra knew, however, and, at first, had resolved to just leave it. She had no desire to fight or lead, she only desired death. She should have been killed by Grall, but because Tyril stopped him, she lived.
Cassandra cursed Tyril under her breath as she swung her sword, fumbling with the hilt as it landed a blow on the practice dummy. Cassandra winced as a stinging pain shot through her arm.
Gritting her teeth, Cassandra tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword. Death was in her future, but she wouldn't go out the way Grall had wanted her to. She was a proud warrior and would die as such.
Jaxale
Jaxale and Dronde landed in an empty field, the snow crunching under Dronde's talons. Jaxale swiftly threw his legs over Dronde's side and climbed down.
"This is the place." Jaxale said as he looked around, searching for what he came for. "Where do you think he is?"
Jaxale knew the answer and he was thinking the same, but he didn't want to admit it. Dronde leaned down and sniffed at the snow in irritation.
"I know," Jaxale said with a sigh, "but we need to hold out hope. If not for his life, then for us to find his body and return him to his family."
Dronde let out a huff and swung his tail through the snow, clearing it from the once obscured ground. Something else was sent flying with the swing of Dronde's tail. Something solid, yet mushy, like a body that had become bloated with water. When Jaxale inspected what it was, he found it was exactly that.
A young boy, his skin might have been a light green once before, now blue from the cold. Jaxale bowed his head in somberance. This child was one of the few that hadn't been able to make it to the portal before the battle with Grall, The Reaper, had begun. He had lost his way and, from what Jaxale could tell, managed to survive until the weather had taken his life.
"We need to return him to his mother." Jaxale said as he lifted the boy's body in his arms. "His family should be able to mourn for him properly."
Fluffles
Fluffles woke to find Xierma, his queen, the woman he vowed to serve in place of Grall, standing over him. Fluffles quickly threw his body to the floor and bowed low to Xierma. He knew why she had decided to grace him with her appearance and intended to not fight back against it.
Xierma's eyes, flames of anger burning in them, lingered on Fluffles for a moment. "You have defied my orders to kill Gralls son."
"Yes, your majesty." Fluffles found it difficult to speak, his jaw ached and his head throbbed.
"Why?" Xierma knew the answer already, she just wanted to hear it from Fluffles himself.
"I cannot break my oath to my master-"
"Oath!" Xierma shouted in anger, her voice echoed through the room as if to emphasize her words. "You made an oath to me, your queen, did you not."
It wasn't a question, Fluffles did indeed make an oath to the queen that he would serve her without question, but that oath didn't apply to his true Master, or his offsprings. Fluffles didn't voice this, however, because he knew if he did, she would lock him up until he was on the brink of starvation. Fluffles was a vampire and vampires on the brink of starvation cannot think straight. They end up killing and draining everyone in sight until finally they are either killed or the hunger is satisfied.
Fluffles was stronger than other vampires, but he still dared not experience the ravenous hunger ever again. The last time he experienced the hunger, he had almost lost himself and killed fifty men to satisfy his thirst. This time, Xierma would make sure Gralls son was first in his path to make sure he was killed.
"My queen," Fluffles spoke softly, not wanting to be overheard by the spies that follow and protect her, "the oath pertained to matters that do not involve my master, Grall. I cannot break a life oath, even if it means my death."
"I will accept any punishment you wish to deal me," Fluffles continued, "but, I beg of you my queen, do not harm Grall's son. He is innocent of his fathers sins and will be a great asset to you and lord Grodak."
Xierma seemed to ponder this for a moment, her thoughts were clear as day to Fluffles. She was wrestling with her hatred of Grall and his son's possible usefulness if he ever returned. Fluffles hated to think ill of his queen, but he couldn't help but think how dumb she was to think if Grall ever came back, he would not harm his own son.
To Grall, his son, Drillohiem, Fluffles believed he called himself, would be nothing more than a nuisance to him. If Grall could escape from the spirit realm, he would be above something as simple as Gods. He would be closer to the Source himself.
"You're right," Xierma said as her eyes went back to Fluffles who still prostrated himself before her, "he might be of use to us. If he proves otherwise, however, you must be the one to kill him."
Fluffles looked up from the ground, ready to protest and reject the idea of harming him, only to find a strange madness resided in her eyes. It wasn't just any kind of madness, it was the madness that had once taken over his master, Grall. Fluffles quickly snapped his mouth shut and bowed his head.
"As you wish, my queen."
Xierma
Xierma walked down the halls of the castle, her mind on the conversation she had with Fluffles. She knew what everyone thought she felt towards Grall, Fluffles included, but they were wrong.
It wasn't the hatred others saw in her that kept her up at night. It wasn't her hatred that pushed her to take the lives of any who claimed to be of his blood. She didn't hate Grall and those he loved, because that would mean she hated Grodak, and she could not bring herself to hate the one person she loved.
She never hated Grall, as a matter of fact, she actually preferred his company over most of Xeno-Movia. No, it was never hatred, but fear.
She feared what his relationship with Grodak would do to him. She feared that any offsprings he may have would be just like him. Most of all, she feared his power, the only being to have ever brought the black winged beauty, Cassandra, to her knees weeping.
Xierma paused for a moment and thought back to that day. She had been moving others to the pocket dimension when Grall suddenly appeared. She moved to protect those who were with her, knowing he could not be trusted.
She watched as Grall tore through Tyril and turned Cassandra into a blubbering mess. Just thinking about it caused Xiermas legs to quiver just as they did back then. How could he have become so strong that even an altain couldn't defeat him, Xierma wondered.
As she watched Grall torment the strongest being in Xeno-Movia, laughing as if it was just some sort of cruel joke, Grodak was approaching her from behind.
"Xierma." Grodak said startling Xierma, who quickly covered her mouth to quiet her scream.
"Grodak." Xierma said relieved to see him. "Grall has turned. He intends to kill everyone."
Grodak grunted, he had a look of grim determination. The same look he had whenever he went into battle. Xierma knew then what Grodak was planning and almost yelled at him.
Xierma bit her tongue before the words could leave her mouth and expose where they were to Grall. "Listen, my love," Xierma spoke in a soft whisper, scared that if she were to speak any louder, Grall would kill her and those with her, "he is not an opponent you can face. Look at how he isn't even taking Cassandra seriously."
"If you fight him," Xierma forced back the tears that were ready to burst forth, "then you may die."
"If death is the price I must pay to protect you," Grodak cupped Xierma's face lovingly, "then that is the price I will be happy to pay."
Grodak left Xierma standing there, bewildered at how he could just throw away his life for her. She didn't watch the rest of the battle, she knew it was hopeless. Grodak would lose and Grall would win. It mattered little now, she had no desire to watch as the man she loved faded from her life and left.
When she found out Grodak had managed to survive his battle with Grall, Xierma started making counter measures for if he ever returned. First and foremost of them, give him no excuse to return.
Drillohiem
Drillohiem rested his head in the palm of his hands. He could not believe what he heard from these spectors. These green creatures were once the mighty race of Harbingers.
"I thought the Harbingers were a myth..." Drillohiem shook his head, trying to make sense of everything.
"No," the eldest, Jason, said, "we are indeed the race that is older than this cycle and have followed the source as he created new cycles. He tasked us to stop this cycle from ending, as so many others have."
"We discussed this task amongst ourselves and came to the conclusion. In order to stop the rebirth algorithm from activating, we must become a weapon that can destroy the cause. The Reaper must return to his brothers, the Source, side."
"That's why you appeared when my father was taken over." Drillohiem finished, he had heard the story spoken three times now, the first being interrupted by his questions, the second to make sure he understood, and the third to nail it into his head. "If that's the case then why have you summoned me and not my uncle? Wasn't he the one you used to kill my father?"
"Kill? We weren't the ones who killed Grall." Jason spoke of Grall with admiration. "He, even before your uncle took ahold of us, was raging his own battle with The Reaper. He was the one who ended The Reapers rampage before he could bring about the rebirth."
Drillohiem stared at Jason in shock. His father saved everyone's lives? That's not the memory he held.
"Is that why I am here?" Drillohiem asked, his voice cracking with impatience.
"No."
"Then why?" Drillohiem shouted, standing up so fast he knocked his chair backwards. "Why did you bring me here."
"Bring you?" Jason looked confused for a moment, then his face lit up. "Ah. You mean to this room."
"No!" Drillohiem would have thrown the table in front of him just as his father and uncle would gladly do, but he stopped himself. "I mean to this place. This... whatever this is."
"... We did not bring you here. You came of your own accord." Jason's voice rang out in understanding.
"No, I didn't I don't-"
Jason held up his hand, cutting Drillohiem short. "Let me reiterate. You weren't the one who chose to come here, but Talengar, your first life, was the one who chose."