Sunlight bounced off the granite floor as the young man leaned against a stone pillar facing the balcony. His cold grey eyes brimming with the color of summer, coating his pasty skin with a drop of gold.
"How many times have I bore witness to the same scenery of this setting sun?" He uncrosses his arms as he walks to the ledge of the balcony. "Why is it that this is where I come back to to appease my ailings, Arvin?"
A man dressed in white robes adorned with jewels appears at his side with a silver tray in hand. His tan skin looked bronze in the light of the sun
It wasn't a foreign sight to see his former servant—now lover—still serve him from time to time an evening cup of tea. A ritual that felt strange to him when he was first recognized for his apt skills in performing miracles.
The crown of Ignitus had heard about a young prodigious magician and striked a contract with Seylis out of desperation. Amidst the war of the split regions in Rosavall, Ignitus was on the brink of ruins from its neighboring kingdom's relentless attacks.
It's savior, a pale and scrawny young lad who had mastered the circle of elements and managed to eradicate every single troop sent from Terrathine. The ever-so-greedy earthen dwellers and their clay golems held the most authority—at least, so they thought.
It's ruler was on a conquest to unify the four territories as one. Despite their great efforts, they knew that they needed more gusto to take on three kingdoms with just their power alone. So, they made a deal with the worshippers of Sanathos.
All there was to say, darkness unraveled throughout all the regions in Rosavall and Ignitus was its first recipient to have its soil doused in demon's blood. Seylis had made it in the nick of time to the city capital to neutralize the otherworldly threat and the Occulites' advances towards Red Vixen's Keep.
Then, the rest was history as the young prodigy was catapulted into fame, gaining a reputation for himself amongst his peers and the citizens of Rosavall as the 'Savior' during the Battle of Korr. His life had practically turned on his head in a good way, an achievement that'll never be forgotten in history.
"Finally getting a bit of sun I see," Arvin says with a grin, letting the magician's question go unanswered.
"I've prepared you some herbal tea this afternoon," he continues as he settles the tray down on his desk and pours the dark green liquid into a tea cup before mixing in a bit of milk and sugar. "I used the last of the euplato leaves that we have in store. Hope you don't mind, though your disciples have been restless as of late."
Arvin moves to his side handing the steaming cup over along with a gentle peck to his white temple. The tan Thynaalian man was muscular and quite large in stature compared to Seylis' more delicate features, yet his movements were graceful and fluid. His steps never made so much as a thud on the granite floor, which made him a perfect shadow to the High Archmage of Blackmare Palace.
"Perhaps, you should task them in a bit of herb gathering to stretch their legs in the Void."
The raven haired male stared at the pale green liquid in his cup, his nose breathing in the smell of foliage and sweet amyria sap.
"It never changes," he whispers as the liquid freezes in his cup. "I'm living off of fragments to keep me sane, yet you cannot change what has already happened. I'm well aware of that, still I never noticed anything amiss."
The teacup dissipates into smoke, his fingers combing through the gray clouds and morphing its shape into a bracelet embellished in Thynaalian jewels. He glances over at his lover who stood frozen next to him, his eyes looked golden in the sunlight. His broad shoulders seemed relaxed as he rests his arms against the stone balustrade.
𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.
"Tonight," Seylis traces a finger along the width of his jaw, stopping at his neck as he leans in to press his forehead against his shoulder, "you were supposed to kill me in my sleep, but failed to do so. And during this moment before you decided to cut off my life force, I wanted to…"
Holding the bangle before him, he contemplated what to say next. A fragile smile made its way to his pale lips.
"I wanted to spend an eternity with you. If you hadn't gone down that path, I would've stopped my Ascension just to spend every waking moment at your side. You're the reason why I wasn't so afraid…"
Seylis let the bracelet drop to the ground and vanish into smoke. "Little did I know, you never trusted me at all. It was all a facade."
"𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴," the taunting voice of the demon entombed within his body chuckles. The sound akin to stones grating against each other.
The magician didn't grimace or argue with its statement, he couldn't say a single word this time. Afterall, his justification for his lover's actions only served to lighten the ache that throbbed in his chest.
"𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤… 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨," it mused. "𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱? 𝘏𝘢! 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘩 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤."
Maybe it was right, tragedy had followed the young lad ever since he was born. All those cold nights shared with his mother and sister under a dilapidated roof that was bound to collapse at any moment, he prayed for a chance at a better life. He wanted a savior of his own, but they never came or it was rather too late. And by the time they've come, he'd already found himself no longer seeking their help.
"Do you prefer a different scenery, Baelryth, I'm willing to accommodate you with the Battle of Korr," Seylis deadpanned, raising a hand at the ready.
He was tired of entertaining the foul thing. It fed off his misery, so he wanted to provide what his prisoner couldn't produce on its own.
Baelryth—as much as he despised the demon more than it did him—the magician oddly found his presence comforting. He will never admit it to himself, but if it weren't for its verbal abuse, he would've lost himself to his illusions a long time ago. And with the amount of time they spent their sentence together, he found out how to silence the Demon of Pride and Bloodlust whenever he sought for a moment of peace.
𝘋𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵.
An obvious answer.
"𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘢 𝘣𝘺𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘈𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶….𝘺𝘰𝘶…"
As expected, as their surroundings filled with smoke and ashes that poured down from the sky, the demon's voice had faded along with the sunlight that melted away the magician's cold exterior.
A pale face covered in soot and blood, not of its own, stared back at Seylis as he stood upon the fallen corpse of a man that laid bare under his foot.
His eyes were wide open, glossed over, only reflecting its vanquisher. Silence welcomed him again, but he couldn't recall the moment when he felt victorious coming back to this memory. War is war after all. Thousands had died before the Battle of Korr had ended with him slaying the vessel of the Third General from Sanathos' court.
He once anticipated the praises of the citizens from Rosavall as their savior, he wanted to listen to the songs made solely for him based on his victory of relinquishing the threat. He wanted to be loved and admired by those who knew of his deeds, but feared by those who uttered his name in contempt.
Seylis received all of it, but coming back to this misery and bloodshed every time he wanted peace, it had turned him hollow. His magic may be able to grant him an imitation of what his emotional state was in during this memory, however, its effect was already worn out by its caster.
The metallic smell of death wafting in the air was once so sweet to him. Now, it just made him nauseas as he stared at his own reflection from the lifeless eyes of the Occulite beneath his jaded gaze.