For three days, Riena had carried Altair on her back tethered him to her side with rope as she carried him, feeding him water and food. All the wild Luna would cast a cleansing spell to rid him of any filth gathered through the journey.
"Will he wake today," Riena asked the nth time today. Her bare feet were shredded by the gravel she had traversed over the past few days. Sweat trailed her immature figure as she glanced at her Master. Her question was not out of concern for herself but for Altair.
His face was pale, his pulse weak, and all throughout the night, sweat pooled around his body. She had cared for him throughout those nights: Her mannerisms. While crude to an untrained eye, they were well practiced, as if she'd cared for another for years.
"Do you worry so?" Luna asked, a faint sliver of a smile threatening to surface. "You barely know him."
"Does that matter?" She looked on, her brow tightening as the grueling pinch of her bloody feet against the gravel kept her alert and awake.
"Humor me, disciple."
Riena's fist clenched, feeling the cool sensation of Altairs sink against hers: "he reminds me of Mother. Although he doesn't reek of that infernal poison." She paused, taking a moment beneath the sun's glare, and pressed ahead. "But we're friends, aren't we? Although I would like to eat with him sometime…" Her voice trailed off as she continued well into the night.
"Let's stop for the day," Luna said, noting the fatigue in which her disciple moved. "You should really wear some shoes, darling. I could fashion some out of—"
"I prefer it this way, Master," Riena said, nearly collapsing as her chest wheezed for air. She smiled, if only faintly. " I like feeling the grass beneath my feet, the heat of the stones against my flesh, and the faint tremor of movement hidden from sight."
"Your—" Her words were broken by the cry chough echoing from Altair as joy dangled over their hearts.
Luna rushed towards him, untangling him from Riena's back as she carefully settled him down. She waited, catching sight of an inhuman gleam within his black stone obsidian pupils. His eyes didn't resemble one of alertness but one of death.
"Altair?" Luna began, caution in her voice, as she signaled for Riena to back away.
"I'm back…" Altair whispered, picking up his hands to his face and then to Luna's. Tears all but gathered, as a cry, a wail resounded through the night.
For three lifetimes, he lived and died: Gutted and butchered by his very hands. He seized, trembling as he curled into Luna's embrace.
"I'm alive… I'm alive," Altair whimpered the tang of death of those he hunted as a serpent still caught in his mouth. "I'm not dead… I'm a human again… I'm…"
"Hush, child…" Luna whispered, her voice calm and gentle as a Mother soothing Altair's worries. As if her voice carried power, Altair found himself calm. His scattered mind slowly found itself grounded. Secure by the Goddess before him. "It's alright, my dear. Accidents happen," She told him, already getting a picture of what happened. "But I'm sure there are benefits, right?"
"Benefits?" Altair looked up, catching sight of the system notification.
[Memery of the Serpent - Six Years Completed]
[Dexterity has Increased by 2]
[Mana has Increased by 1]
[Animal Instincts Acquired]
[Polymorph Acquired
[Fallen Necromancy Obtained]
"For this… I was bound. Unable to speak, unable to cry, unable to have a proper meal, forced to hunt and kill for six years?" As if he had gobbled sulfur. Altair bowed his head, tightened his hold around Luna, and silently cried.
It wasn't fair.
But, " Life isn't fair." Luna reminded him. "But there are ways to strengthen the mind. Ways to temper the spirit so that your suffering could be more tamable. How about a dual, Huh? Crying won't solve a thing. Have a match with your Big Sis. "
"Hey! What about me!" Reina joined, puffing her cheeks, having felt forgotten by the duo. "I should be the—"
"Your feet are bloodied and blistered. Relax. And take note." Luna said, leaping form out of Altair's embrace. She opened her palm, weaving the moonlight into a majestic sword. Its razor edge fashion to slaughter gods rather than mortals. She pointed her sword towards him, her intent clear.
Thrown back into the wild at the sight of her sword, no different than a wild beast baring its fangs toward him. Altair's pupils shrank, contracting as an unnatural bloodlust rushed out of him. He reached for the sword Riena had fastened to his back to maneuver him easily.
Lunafreya masked her frown under the predatory stare of the boy. She'd felt such a gaze before. She'd trained many and carried just as many secrets since the birth of time. But there had only ever been one she grew wary of.
A man who embodied the serpent. Who lived his days a trickster? His fangs masked behind the deceit of his actions.
Altair held onto the Sword of Endmyian, finding it familiar yet unfamiliar. And yet, as he moved, circling Luna in a slow, teasing manner, instincts alongside an inhumane sensation of awareness throbbed like cords through Altair's mind.
He waited, the predatorial gaze in his stone-cold eyes cool and indifferent.
There were not many who could grasp what Altair had been through. Few would dare to describe what it meant to live at the brink of life and death, who knew the terrors of starvations or the darkness of survival of the fittest.
"If you don't attack, I will," Luna said, feigning impatience. She dashed at Altair.
However, the young prince wasn't baited. As if one with the forest, he moved with exquisite grace; he took a half step back, nearly evading Luna's slash aimed at his neck, and leaned in, his blade curving upwards in a wicked arc that demanded blood.
No, it demanded her life as the arc of the blade curved like a serpent. It whisked through the winds, carving through all. Ember rang like a sea of flames as the moonlit sword and Endmyian met.
Luna grew startled by the level of supernatural strength the boy held. It was unnatural and unlike anything he had held days before.
Instincts working in tandem with his mind. A state of knowing sank deeper into Altair's perception as a whirlwind of strikes whisked through the winds. His strikes were feral, masking the cold calculations of skill that surprised even Luna.
'Shall I up the level?' Luna wondered, but just as she did, the glint of his blade vanished from the perception of any mortal as it twisted toward her neck with vicious intent.
'Mephisto!' She thought, swatting his blade away with her bare hand. She stared deeply at Altair, unable to help the nervous tick rattling through her mind. 'His technique is eerily similar to that bastard Fallen during his youth.'
Luna dismissed her moonlit blade in a flash of eldrich light and stared deeply at Altair, a wariness in her heart birthing. A wariness she easily crushed, knowing no good would come of suspicion. She folded her arms: "Why don't we call your Mother? You deserve a break. What say you?"
"Mother?" He said the familiarity of the word spreading a warmth he had sought for years.