Ikan stood on the balcony of his ancient mountain palace, eyes narrowed against the swirling mists as he scanned the peaks below. He could just make out the jagged silhouette of Kebo through the ethereal vapors - the famed village of the murky mountains, far beyond the gaze of mortal men.
A chill ran down his immortal spine. The elders of Kebo were coming to petition him once again to take one of his unwed daughters for their worthiest youth. He steeled himself for their arrival with a weary sigh.
Up here on Mount Gat-gadar, towering higher than even Kebo's lofty heights, Ikan and his seven remaining daughters dwelled in sublime isolation. Carved into the sheer rock face, his ancient castle merged seamlessly with the towering mountain peak. Turrets and walls of stone jutted outward, blending the manmade fortification with the natural craggy terrain.
He was Ikan the Beloved, one of the first men created by the Great Divine, blessed - or cursed - with immortality.
Over centuries uncounted, he had fathered one hundred daughters while not a single son issued from his loins. Those who failed to win his daughters' hands in marriage met untimely ends on the hazardous approach to Gat-gadar's dominating peak. Some perished in battles against Ikan's immortal brood, while others simply vanished into the enshrouding mists, never to be seen again.
A piercing screech shattered Ikan's reverie. He turned to see his firstborn, the warrior-daughter Tafi, dropping from a snow-laden overhang to the balcony. Her raven tresses struggled free from her cowl as she straightened, piercing eyes rimmed with charcoal.
"The elders have arrived, Father," she said, her melodic voice edged with disdain. "Shall I greet our... guests?"
Ikan's mouth tightened. "No, Tafi. I will receive them myself this time. Their pathetic mortal ambitions grow tiresome."
As he strode from the balcony, Tafi fell in behind him, one hand resting on her sheathed blade. Let the elders of Kebo seek their immortality one last time. Her father had other plans.
The great hall echoed with the heavy footfalls of Ikan and his daughters as they made their procession. At the far end, a small delegation from Kebo waited, rising respectfully as the Beloved approached.
Ikan eyed the elders appraisingly as he took his seat on the ancestral throne of Mountain Gat-gadar. His daughters arrayed themselves beside and behind him like honor guards.
"Elders of Kebo," Ikan's voice was a thunderous rumble that reverberated through the ancient chamber. "You have braved the treacherous approach to my domain once more. Pray, take your seats and tell me the purpose of this visit."
The elders exchanged uneasy glances before their chief spokesman, a wizened patriarch named Kadri, stepped forward and lowered himself stiffly into a plush chair.
Kadri stood and bowed low before Ikan's throne, the ancient bones in his back creaking like aged timber. When he rose, his rheumy eyes met Ikan's immortal gaze steadily.
"Great Beloved, we elders of Kebo have come once more to petition for the greatest of boons," Kadri began, his ragged voice thick with solemn gravity. "Our fiercest warriors even now toil in the training grounds, pushing themselves to the limits of mortal endurance. All in preparation for the revered Warrior Games that will commence within the next moon."
Ikan leaned forward, his weathered features stoic yet attentive. With a slight wave of his hand, he bade Kadri to continue.
"In keeping with our most sacred traditions," the elder said, "the warrior who emerges as champion shall be named 'Worthiest' and entitled to the ultimate glory - to take the Beloved's daughter and join the eternal realm at her side."
Murmurs and furtive whispers rippled through Ikan's assembled daughters. The Beloved held up a commanding hand for silence, his piercing eyes locked on Kadri.
"You come seeking the hand of one of my daughters as the prize for this 'Worthiest' warrior, then?" Ikan's tone was impassive yet carried an undercurrent of something far more profound. "And how is this...'Worthiest' one determined? Certainly mere mortal contests of combat alone cannot quantify such lofty spiritual judgement."
Kadri swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling the dusty dryness of the great hall. "W-Well, Great One, the Games themselves are a great trial of myriad skills - strength, speed, cunning, fortitude. Contestants are whittled away through escalating bouts until a singular champion remains. He whom the elders judge most noble in spirit as well as deed is named Worthiest."
"I see..." Ikan mused, leaning back and steepling his calloused fingers. "And you would have this...mortal take my daughter's hand? Who am I to argue with such ancient traditions?"
The Beloved's words hung heavy in the fraught silence. Kadri felt his heart pounding in his hollow chest. This was the moment...
"Esteemed Ikan, we ask only that you consider extending this greatest of offerings one final time," he said carefully. "We elders have agreed, this will be the last such request we make of you, to let an immortal join with our tribe. The old ways are fading, despite our desperation to preserve them."
Ikan studied the wizened elder for a long, ponderous moment. At last, he gave a weary nod.
"So be it, Kadri of Kebo. I shall grant this newest petition for my daughter's hand. But you are correct - it shall be the last. My lineage is too precious to continually disperse, even for your noblest traditions." His piercing eyes bored into Kadri's. "When your Warrior Games have named this 'Worthiest' one, bring him to me. I shall give him a chance to earn Azizana's hand himself..."
The elders collectively froze, stunned by Ikan's decree. After lifetimes of making this same pilgrimage to petition for immortality, they did not expect acquiescence, let alone paired with a finality that no further chances would be granted.
Kadri found his voice at last, rasping out his gratitude. "We...thank you for this profound generosity. Our greatest fighter shall be honored beyond comprehension."
Ikan gave a curt nod. "If he can persuade her to accept his hand, she shall be the one to leave our Mountain and join your tribe as bride."
The elders murmured in awe and agreement, rising slowly with deep bows of respect before making their exit. As their footfalls faded away down the ancient halls, Ikan's piercing gaze drifted out towards the private courtyard where his beloved youngest daughter, Azizana, strolled blissfully unaware of the seismic shift her father had just set in motion.
Through the ornate archways, he could see her gliding along the mosaic walking paths, pausing now and then to gently caress the vibrant petals of the exotic blooms that adorned the lush gardens. Azizana was truly a vision - her raven tresses cascading down her back like a shimmering waterfall, her features the perfect blend of delicate beauty and an ethereal, fey-like mystique.
Yet there was an unmistakable aura of untamed ferocity simmering just beneath that beguiling facade, for she was still very much her father's daughter.
A pang of wistfulness tugged at Ikan's soul as he watched her. Of all his progeny, scattered across realms and ages uncounted, Azizana remained his greatest pride and joy. The mere thought of relinquishing her to join the fading mortal world of Kebo opened a yawning chasm of loss within him.
But he had sworn a vow, one that would bring the era of bestowing immortality to Kebo's tribe to its final end. And Azizana, being the last of his unwed daughters, would be the ultimate boon - if the worthiest of Kebo's warriors could in fact prove himself worthy of her hand.
The risks were...considerable, Ikan mused. For if the mortal champion failed to earn Azizana's favor, there was no telling how she might react to the slap on her pride. Her fury could be catastrophic for both realms.
Still, Ikan steadied his resolve. He was the Beloved, the most cherished of the Great Divine's immortal creations. He need not fret over the fleeting affairs of a few willful mortals and their lofty obsession with joining the eternal dance.
Azizana's footfalls drew closer, and her father turned to give her a warm, paternal smile as she entered the great hall, radiant and luminous even in the shafts of fading sunlight. Let the mortals of Kebo have their games and send their mightiest...Azizana would be the truest test of any warrior's worth.