Vondell dreamt of Blackfire.
From the ports of Mechalos to the unchartered lands of the forest kindred, all burned; sacrifices to Urth. Vondell alone was left uncharred. To forever listen to the screams of those he condemned; to forever smell the burning flesh of those he was tasked to save.
An echo of a memory rather forgotten.
A dream of what is yet to come.
###
It was still dark out when he woke up, with the only light source being the soft pink glow of the moon —seeping through the curtains of his room. His face was damp, and the linen of his inner armor clung to his back uncomfortably as he sat up in bed.
He quickly checked his side, relaxing once he saw the Blacksword still lying beside him. Even in its scabbard, it had burned the sheets, leaving a charred outline around it.
"Just a dream," he whispered, caressing the sword.
His eyes wandered to the massive scar that disfigured his hand. It had spread and now ran down into the cuffs of his armor. Even in the dimly lit room, he could make out its red-hotness. It pulsated softly with a crimson glow, its frequency quickening with every passing second.
"Someone's come to visit," he sighed, grabbing the sword as he got up from bed. He placed it on his hip, before reaching for the inner pockets of his armor.
The sword pulsed with strange heat, releasing streams of whistling smoke. As he pulled out a small leather bag from his inner pocket, the heat grew more intense.
"There is a time for everything, Surth. Now is not yours," he whispered, caressing the sword, before opening the bag.
Several vials were lined neatly inside, each of them labeled with a different symbol drawn in blood. Tracing his fingers over each of them, he stopped on a vial containing purple liquid.
"Activos," he whispered, before tossing it at the wall. It caught flame midair, exploding into a cloud of purple once it smashed against the wall.
"Expan," he whispered after, and the cloud spread through the entire room, covering the walls in a faint purple glimmer.
With a satisfied nod, he walked to the window, leather bag in hand.
~Is it almost winter already?~ he wondered, staring up at the pink moon. Soon it would be pearly white, and the entirety of Antras would be covered in snow. He longed for that icy chill to soothe the burning of his scars, but he had more pressing things to worry about right now. Such as the figure who was standing unnaturally still by the side of his building.
~Only drunkards and the city guard roam the streets at this time. And it doesn't look like either,~ he thought to himself.
The Blacksword sent out another stream of whistling smoke in response.
~There is a sequence to things, Surth. You know this,~ he responded, before pulling out an orange vial from the leather bag. ~First let's see what's hidden behind the veil.~
"Activos."
As the vial's blood-symbol erupted in flames he tossed it slightly into the air. And it burst into a cloud of glittering orange that veiled his vision slightly.
~A forsaken,~ he thought to himself. The cloaked figure seemed to be releasing clouds of crimson mist —at least from through the orange veil. But as far as he was concerned he should've been the only one in Antras emitting ichor.
~Green streaks. Partial conversion of ichor to nature blessing,~ he deduced. ~But I've never seen a nature god give a forsaken this much ichor before,~ he realized.
~This is going to be a pain.~
He looked down at the leather bag and found only six vials remaining.
~A real pain.~
He reluctantly pulled out a vial, this one with a black liquid. "Activos," he whispered, before smashing it in his hands. For a moment his hands caught flame, before giving way to black smoke, that clung to the tips of his fingers. Still, it felt like the fire hadn't gone out.
~Wait. What's that smell?~
Just then, a soft creak echoed behind him.
He tore another vial out of the leather bag. "Activos," he whispered, hurling it toward the sound. The black smoke on the tip of his fingers attached to it like string, and with a subtle twitch, it curved mid-air.
A cloud of green smoke burst out as it shattered, sending gusts of wind throughout the room. Something squeaked as the green cloud tried melting the wall —prevented only by the purple barrier Vondell had placed earlier. ~Noted. The fire rune on the acid elixirs is too potent.~
He studied the creature that he had maimed; it was a rat, made of shadow and flesh. Or at least had been; now it was a small pile of bloody paste.
~A familiar,~ he realized, quickly turning back to the window.
The hooded figure was gone.
"Of course."
He turned around, taking in the room with a glance.
"You will die here today," Vondell said, reaching into the inner pockets of his armor. He pulled out a handful of daggers, which began glowing red hot. With a twitch of his wrist, they went thrashing through the air toward the corners of the room, a trail of black smoke attached to each of them like string.
"But before you die. Tell me. Who sent you? How did you find me?" he asked, his gaze shifting between the shadows in the room.
No response.
"Whoever it was isn't paying you nearly enough. Trust me," he added, before snapping his fingers. Surth let out a puff of smoke, right as the strings attached to the daggers were engulfed in crimson flame.
The daggers exploded, and the entire room shuddered in response. Smoke and hot air blew Vondell's hair back, as the purple barrier flickered in an attempt to contain the damage.
Once the smoke cleared up, a cloaked figure was revealed at the corner of the room, clutching its butchered arm. Its blood splattered to the floor, but it did not pay that any mind, staring only at Vondell.
"Did they even tell you who I am? Or are you another idiot who only asks for name and face," he asked, walking towards the figure.
"Embrace me, Mother," the figure whispered hoarsely, and a heartbeat later, it was engulfed in shadows, disappearing once more.
However, a trail of blood was left behind, leading to the ceiling.
Vondell reached into his armor and pulled out another set of daggers, immediately throwing them at the ceiling. With another snap of his fingers, they exploded and the cloaked figure fell down with a thud.
"I'll take it that you're a scion of Nyctasha, a child of shadows. What with all the cloak and dagger," Vondell said, looking down at the figure.
"And you follow no one," it replied hoarsely, trying to stand up.
"Stay down," Vondell replied, inspecting it. Whatever was hidden behind the cloak seemed to be made of wood and flesh, and it bled green instead of red.
"A forest kindred?" Vondell asked. "Just where did they find you," he whispered, staring at the creature with new interest. "I thought your kind stuck to the forests."
The creature laughed in response, coughing up blood as it did.
"And you, a godless forsaken. I thought your kind stuck to myth, but it seems we both tread foreign grounds this day," it replied.
Vondell scoffed, reaching into his inner pockets once more. "This won't kill you. But it'll hurt," he said. Before he could draw out the daggers, the scars on his hand pulsed bright red, and a stream of smoke sprayed out the back of his neck.
He twisted around, just in time to see another cloaked figure rush at him with a dagger. He drew Surth with lightning speed, her blade unleashing ash and smoke into the air. The cloaked figure was blown back, by this. Using the smoke screen, he rushed the attacker, and caught them by the scruff of their cloak, before slamming them into the ground.
He pulled a handful of daggers out of his inner pocket, and through them towards the cloaked figure he had left coughing blood. However, even as he controlled the trajectory of the knives, he could not find his target.
~It escaped,~ he thought to himself, quickly placing Surth back in his sheath. What that the cloud of smoke and ash instantly disappeared.
"You are indeed a worthwhile sacrifice," a voice called out, seemingly from every corner of the room at once.
Vondell looked down at the cloaked figure he had slammed and found only a wooden statue. "A shadow double," Vondell whispered. He wasn't dealing with an ordinary scion.
"Bear witness, to Nyctasha's wrath," the voices said.
Vondell tried running towards the leather bag at the windowsill, however, before he could even take a step, everything went black
The entire room was swallowed by shadows leaving him in utter darkness. His gaze scanned the dark abyss, but he couldn't see anything, not even a slither of movement.
"You cannot use your blasphemous skills here," the voices said. Vondell looked down, and found that the smoke on the tips of his fingers had disappeared.
"Anti-alchemy barrier? You prepared well, I didn't think such a thing existed," Vondell said, gripping Surth tightly.
"It did not. But with Nyctasha, all is possible," the voices laughed.
Vondell's scars flickered red, right as the air beside his ear whistled. An instant later a wet warmth trailed down his neck.
He touched his ear and was met with a sharp sting. The top had been clipped off; this thing was playing with him.
~It's even dampening my cognition grace,~ Vondell thought, watching as his scars slowly lost their glow. ~An interesting barrier, indeed,~ he thought in admiration. He would have to rework his to this standard at least.
"Venerable mother prefers her offerings crippled in fear," the voices called out. "Scream and beg, and perhaps I shall offer a quicker embrace."
His scars flickered to life as he heard several light footsteps approach from all around him. He moved in the direction of the closest one, but as he drove his fist into the darkness, he met nothing.
An instant later, something smashed into the back of his neck, and he was knocked off balance. The scruff of his neck burned, and a liquid warmth trailed down his back.
The voices laughed once more, a crooked hoarse laugh.
~Surth, it seems it is your time.~ Vondell thought to himself, growing tired of the creature's games. He drew her once more and she whistled loudly, like a boiling kettle. Vondell's scars surged with bright red light, and his blood bubbled, like boiling hot iron flowing through his veins. He gritted his teeth, not allowing himself to scream.
His scars shed light on the walls; it seemed that it wasn't shadows that had consumed the room, but rather tree roots, constantly snaking and shifting around. They exuded continuous streams of black mist from green puss-filled nodules.
"A child of fire," the voices said. "Indeed, they have not paid me enough."
Four cloaked figures emerged from the corners of the room, morphed out of the flesh of the snaking roots. They drew their blades in sync and rushed at Vondell; masses of shadowy blurs.
Vondell drew an arc with Surth, spewing out flame and smoke. It rushed out all around him, concealing him and setting fire to the cloaked figures. He snapped his fingers, and the smoke exploded reducing them to puddles of green goop on the floor.
"Shadow doubles will not save you now," Vondell called out from within the smoke, right before coughing up blood. His skin was beginning to bubble, and the pain from unleashing Surth threatened to knock him out.
~He's draining my ichor as well?~ Vondell thought to himself.
A soft, echoing laughter filled the darkness. "It seems your god really has left you," the voices replied, as Vondell's scars dimmed.
"But unlike you, I am loved," it added, and Vondell felt something slither around his legs. "Feel my mother's love."