The whispers came back, stronger this time, tearing through the air like a swarm of unseen locusts. Their guttural voices were louder, more invasive, clawing into the minds of those present. The words were no longer unintelligible—they were fractured, broken thoughts that pulsed with malice and dread, as if the voices were struggling to form coherent sentences.
The oppressive weight of the whispers drove Xyenn and Draeven to their knees. Xyenn gritted his teeth, his dragon arm digging into the cobblestone ground beneath him for support as his head throbbed with the invasive noise. His left eye socket burned with phantom pain, and he clutched his chest as though trying to keep himself together.
'It hurts…!'
Draeven wasn't faring much better. His smoke lashed out violently, writhing around him like a panicked creature trying to protect its master. He clutched his head, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "…Agh!" he choked out, his voice trembling under the weight of the whispers.
Above them, Illyana stood tall, her expression calm but her glowing blue eyes flickering with a faint intensity. She raised a single finger, her hand steady as the whispers seemed to grow louder, more violent, trying to drown out her presence. Slowly, she closed her eyes, her lips parting as she began to whisper a chant under her breath.
The words she spoke were soft but carried a weight that resonated through the air. They weren't just words—they were ancient, woven with power and purpose. A faint glow began to emanate from her skin, first subtle, then growing stronger with each word she spoke. Her silver hair seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, and her entire body became a beacon of light against the oppressive darkness.
The whispers fought back, their malice reaching a fever pitch, but Illyana's magic pushed through. The light from her body surged outward, spreading across the courtyard like a wave. As it passed over Xyenn and Draeven, the whispers faded, the weight lifting from their minds like a heavy shroud being pulled away.
Xyenn gasped, his body trembling as he steadied himself, his dragon arm still pressed against the ground. Draeven slumped forward slightly, his smoke calming as he took deep, ragged breaths.
The courtyard fell silent, the oppressive atmosphere replaced with a peaceful stillness.
And then the doors to the orphanage opened.
From within, Mother Faera and several clerics emerged, their robes flowing gracefully as they stepped into the moonlight. They moved with a serene elegance, their faces calm and composed. Faera, at the center, radiated an aura of tranquility that matched Illyana's. Her peaceful smile was warm, almost motherly, as she stepped forward to greet them.
Illyana's face softened immediately, her blue eyes brightening as she stepped toward Faera. "It's been years," she said, her voice carrying a warmth rarely heard from her.
Faera's smile widened, and she opened her arms. "Far too long, my dear Illyana."
The two women embraced, their movements slow and deliberate, as though they were savoring the moment. The hug wasn't quick or ceremonial—it was genuine, filled with the weight of shared history and unspoken understanding.
Xyenn and Draeven watched from a distance, still recovering from the ordeal with the whispers. Draeven tilted his head slightly, his usual nervousness replaced with curiosity. "They know each other.."
Xyenn nodded, his gaze fixed on the two women. "I wonder who that is…"
"Her name was Faera or something. H-Her orphanage kids tried to steal from me and we got what I got back."
"Badass kids."
"I-I Don't like them.."
The hug lingered, and as Faera pulled back slightly, Illyana reached up and gently cupped her face. Her fingers brushed against Faera's cheeks, her touch soft and almost reverent. "Let me look at you," Illyana said, her voice still warm but tinged with concern. "Are you well? You've been hiding for so long…"
Faera chuckled softly, her serene expression unchanging. "I'm well enough, thanks to the Holy Branch. We've managed to keep each other safe despite the—"
Before she could finish, Illyana's grip on her face tightened. Her fingers dug into Faera's cheeks, her peaceful smile never faltering.
Faera's expression shifted, her serene demeanor cracking as her eyes widened in shock. "I-Illyana?"
The glow of Illyana's magic, once gentle and calming, began to twist into something darker. A faint, **dark light** shimmered from her hands, spreading across Faera's face like cracks in glass.
Faera squirmed, her hands instinctively grabbing at Illyana's wrists, but her strength was no match for the other woman's. "W-What are you doing?! Illyana—stop!"
Illyana's smile remained, unbroken, as her fingers tightened further. "I've waited a long time to see you again, Faera," she said softly, her voice calm despite the brutality of her actions. "But.."
The clerics behind Faera froze, their tranquil expressions replaced with confusion and fear.
Faera screamed, her voice echoing through the courtyard as blood began to drip from her eyes and nose. The dark light from Illyana's hands grew stronger, the cracks spreading further across Faera's face.
Xyenn and Draeven gasped, their eyes wide with shock. "What the hell is she doing?!" Xyenn shouted, his dragon arm twitching as he instinctively stepped forward.
'Does Illyana know what she's doing?! Should I step in?!'
Draeven grabbed his arm, his smoke curling around them both. "Don't! We should just w-watch…"
"Just watch…"
'Just watch…? I wish I knew the context of all of this..'
Faera's screams grew louder, her body trembling violently as the light intensified. And then, with a final, grotesque surge of magic, her face exploded in a burst of light and blood, brains, and skull pieces.
The courtyard fell silent again, the only sound the faint crackle of lingering magic in the air. Faera's body slumped forward, lifeless, as Illyana released her grip.
The clerics stared in horror, their calm exteriors shattered.
Illyana turned to them, her serene smile still in place. Her glowing blue eyes locked onto the group as she spoke, her voice soft but firm. "I thought you trusted me, Clerics of the Holy Branch."
The body Illyana decimated began to dissolve into light and spread out and disappear.
The silence was broken by a soft, familiar voice.
"I'm sorry, Illyana."
From the shadows, Faera's true form emerged, stepping into the moonlight. Her face was unscathed, her expression still calm and peaceful. She smiled faintly as she approached Illyana, her hands folded in front of her.
The tension in the air was palpable as the two women stepped toward each other, their movements slow and deliberate.
Xyenn and Draeven held their breath, the tension almost unbearable as the two women finally stood face to face.
And then, unexpectedly, they hugged.
The embrace was brief but heavy with meaning, and when they pulled apart, Faera's expression softened further. "It's good to see you again, Illyana," she said quietly.
Illyana nodded, her serene smile returning. "And you."
"I'm sorry I used that one you, we can't be too sure nowadays. Now that darkness is stronger than ever."
The other clerics stepped forward, each of them holding a glowing grimoire of light. They opened the books in unison, their voices rising in a harmonious chant as they stretched their hands toward the orphanage.
Light began to ripple across the building, the pristine white walls shifting and transforming. The once humble orphanage began to reshape itself, its walls glowing brighter as they twisted into something new. Towers of light rose from the structure, and golden runes etched themselves into the surface. The building became a stronghold of light, its radiant presence a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding it.
As the transformation finished, Faera turned to Illyana, her voice calm but grave. "The last stronghold of the Holy Branch lies within these walls. After you escaped the dragon god of light, his draconic vessel began hunting us down, one by one. The Holy Branch was disbanded, scattered to the winds. This orphanage is all that remains of us now."
Illyana nodded slowly, her serene demeanor unchanging. "I knew it would come to this."
Xyenn leaned closer to Draeven, his voice barely a whisper. "So that's why she hates division…"
Draeven nodded nervously, his smoke curling around his legs.
The group stepped forward, entering the stronghold through the massive double doors of light. Inside was a long hallway, its walls glowing faintly with golden light. At the far end, another set of doors awaited—tall, radiant, and pulsing with energy.
From beyond the doors, faint shouting could be heard.
The hallway stretched before them—a long, glowing path of light that pulsed faintly beneath their feet, as though it were alive. The walls shimmered with golden runes, their intricate patterns shifting and twisting in a silent dance that seemed tied to the rhythm of the stronghold. The air was heavy with an ancient energy, one that hummed just beneath the surface, pressing gently against their senses.
Xyenn, Draeven, and Illyana walked in silence for a moment, their footsteps echoing faintly through the corridor. Behind them, the faint chanting of the clerics lingered like a ghostly echo, a reminder of the power sustaining this place.
Draeven, ever fidgety, finally broke the silence. "So… uh, Illyana?" His voice was quiet, hesitant, as though afraid to disturb the solemnity of the moment. "These… Clerics of the Holy Branch. Who exactly are they? I mean, I know they're, like, light magic people, but… what's their deal?"
Illyana didn't respond immediately. Her tranquil expression didn't falter, but there was a weight in her gaze, as though the question had pulled her thoughts back to a place she'd rather not go.
"They were founded," she began softly, her voice echoing faintly in the glowing hallway, "to serve the Dragon God of Light, Lancelot. He is one of the elder dragon gods, a being of immense power and purity. Long ago, during the war between the dragons and the forces of darkness, Lancelot fought as one of the closest subordinates of the First Dragon, Gabriel."
"Gabriel," Xyenn repeated, his voice low.
"Yes," Illyana said with a nod. "The creator of dragons. The First Dragon. The one who began it all. Lancelot stood by Gabriel's side in those days, wielding the power of light to combat the darkness that sought to consume the world of Kyrrin. When the war ended, and everything was scattered, Lancelot chose to remain vigilant. He foresaw that the darkness of Hell's power, the essence of Hell, would one day bleed into this world again. And so, he created the Clerics of the Holy Branch."
Draeven tilted his head. "So… they're like, what, dragon-god paladins?"
Illyana's lips twitched faintly, almost a smile. "In a way. The clerics and priestesses of the Holy Branch were tasked with a sacred duty: to dispel the darkness wherever it arose. To seek out and destroy those who would spread its corruption. Their magic of light, derived from Lancelot's power, is unique. It can cure the effects of darkness to a certain extent, depending on the strength of their light rune structures. More importantly, it can dispel darkness completely, bind it, and prevent it from spreading further."
Xyenn furrowed his brow, his dragon arm flexing slightly as he walked. "Bind it?"
"Yes," Illyana said, her voice growing quieter. "They can trap darkness, contain it, and even strip it away from those cursed by it. But there are limits. A rune already cursed by darkness cannot be cured, no matter how strong the cleric's light. That corruption is permanent. It balances the weight between Light and Darkness, that's the pillar holding it together: both sides can overpower the other."
Draeven's smoke coiled nervously around his legs. "That sounds… intense," he muttered.
"It is," Illyana said, her voice steady but tinged with something deeper. "The Branch is not just an order of healers and priests. They are also witch hunters. They were sanctioned to hunt down and destroy anyone who wielded the power of darkness, no matter their reasons or intentions. It didn't matter whether the darkness was born of malice or a desperate will to survive. To the Branch, darkness is an enemy that must be eradicated, no exceptions."
Xyenn glanced at her, his voice quiet but firm. "Like those witches in Soulcaris…they were avoiding the Branch and Lancelot too.."
Illyana's expression didn't change, but her pace slowed slightly. "Yes," she said after a moment. "And then there's Yuuna… she was spreading darkness, but not out of cruelty. She was trying to survive. She was alone, hunted, desperate. I saw that. I understood her. But the Branch didn't care. To them, she was a threat that needed to be eliminated. And when I tried to protect her…"
Her voice faltered slightly, the first crack in her usual calm. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "They decided I was a threat too. They were going to sacrifice me to Lancelot, to cleanse the darkness they believed had tainted me. So I left. I abandoned the Branch, and I've been running ever since. And Yuuna found me, J ran into her again. And I became a Tyrant.
The hallway seemed to grow quieter, the weight of her words settling over them like a heavy blanket.
Draeven glanced at Xyenn, his voice barely above a whisper. "So… that's why she hates division. She knows what it leads to."
Xyenn didn't respond, but his gaze flickered toward Illyana, his respect for her deepening in silence.
'Many factions are involved in all of this. The Light Born (The Lysfødt), the dwarves, Orin and the Bloodmaidens, The Prophets, and us Tyrants…and now the Clerics of the Holy Branch. Will we have to fight these guys..? They're against people like me, us Tyrants…'
The three of them reached the end of the hallway, where the massive double doors of light stood waiting. The faint sound of yelling could be heard from the other side, muffled but growing louder as they approached.
Illyana placed a hand on the doors, her fingers glowing faintly as they responded to her touch. The runes on the surface shimmered, and the doors slowly swung open, revealing the scene beyond.
The room was vast, its walls lined with glowing sigils and runes that pulsed faintly with power. Clerics and priestesses in robes of black, gold, and white stood in a circle, their hands raised in prayer as they chanted in unison. The air was thick with the energy of their magic, a faint golden mist swirling around them.
In the center of the room, bound by chains of pure light, was a grotesque demon baby. Its small, twisted body writhed against its restraints, its skin a mottled gray-black that oozed with a faint, dark mist. Its head was misshapen, with jagged horns curling from its scalp and sharp, needle-like teeth bared in a permanent snarl. Its eyes were hollow pits of darkness—until the third eye on its forehead opened, glowing a deep, blood-red.
Badump.
Standing in front of the demon baby was Father Vektor, the head priest of the stronghold. He was tall and imposing, his face lined with age and wisdom. His robes were adorned with intricate patterns of gold and white, and he carried a lantern of light, its glow casting long, flickering shadows across the room. His eyes were sharp, piercing, as he stared down at the demon.
Badump.
"Speak!" Vektor demanded, his voice deep and commanding. The lantern in his hand pulsed with light, and the demon baby hissed, its sharp teeth gnashing together.
The demon baby's voice was guttural and unnatural as it spoke, its words twisting and warping like the sound of metal being bent.
"Xhrr... k'thal... vrith... n'ghazr issht'l!"
The clerics around the room flinched, their chanting faltering slightly as the demon's voice echoed through the chamber. Even Vektor seemed momentarily unsettled, his grip tightening on the lantern.
Badump.
Badump.
Xyenn was motionless, anxiety and fear slowly crept into his head.
"We cannot understand it," one of the clerics said, their voice trembling. "Its tongue is too ancient, too corrupted."
Vektor's jaw tightened, his frustration evident. "Then strip it of its essence! Tear the darkness from its soul until it speaks in a tongue we can comprehend!"
The clerics moved to obey, their hands glowing as they began to draw the dark mist from the demon's body. The baby screeched in pain, its voice rising in a discordant wail that made the air tremble.
And then its glowing red eye fixed directly on Xyenn.
The baby's voice shifted, its tone sharper and more focused as it spoke directly to him.
"You... vessel of the traitor Yuuna..."
Xyenn gasped, his body stiffening as a cold shock ran through him. Draeven's smoke lashed out instinctively, curling around them both as he stared at the demon in wide-eyed horror. "Did… did it just speak to you?"
Xyenn didn't answer, his gaze locked with the demon's.
Badump.
"We… we understood it," Draeven said, his voice trembling. He looked at Illyana, his panic evident. "How is that possible?"
Illyana's expression was calm but sharp, her glowing blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Because we carry her blood," she said quietly. "Yuuna's blood of darkness. That's why we can understand it. Her essence is a part of us."
Vektor turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Illyana. "You carry darkness within you?" he demanded, his voice cold and sharp. "Even you, Illyana? I expected better from someone so peaceful. So… tranquil. We knew you were on her side when you defended her, but to take in her blood.."
Illyana didn't flinch, her gaze steady. "The darkness within me is equal to the light I carry," she said simply. "And right now, that darkness allows us to help."
Vektor's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue further.
The demon baby's glowing red eye shifted to Illyana, and then back to Xyenn. Its voice was quieter now, but no less sharp.
"I will only speak to the vessel of Yuuna. Only to him."
Xyenn's breath caught in his throat, and he felt Illyana's gaze slowly turn toward him.
Badump.
The demon baby's grotesque form writhed against the chains of light that bound it, the pulsating runes etched into the glowing links keeping its dark essence contained. Its third eye—the blood-red spiral in the center of its malformed head—remained fixed on Xyenn, unblinking and unnervingly sharp. The other clerics continued their chanting, their magic reinforcing the chains, but the demon's voice broke through the air again, cutting like a blade.
"You…" the demon hissed, its voice low and guttural, like the sound of grinding stone. "I will speak… but only to you. Alone. No light. No watchers. Just us."
The room fell deathly silent. The clerics stopped chanting, their glowing hands faltering as they exchanged worried glances. The oppressive weight of the demon's presence seemed to double, its words hanging in the air like a noose.
Xyenn couldn't look away. His breath quickened as the creature's words seemed to burrow into his chest, filling him with a cold, gnawing anxiety. He swallowed hard, his dragon arm trembling slightly at his side. He didn't know why, but he could feel the weight of its focus, the way it seemed to see through him, past the armor of his confidence and into the vulnerable parts of his soul.
'This feeling…I hate it…'
Finally, Xyenn spoke, his voice hesitant. "It… it wants to speak to me. Alone."
There was a beat of silence before Father Vektor stepped forward, his lantern of light flaring with renewed intensity. "Absolutely not," he said sharply, his deep voice echoing through the chamber. His piercing eyes bore into Xyenn, filled with equal parts disbelief and disdain. "To allow such a thing is reckless. Foolish. The demon is bound because of our light. Without it, it will corrupt you in an instant."
Mother Faera stepped beside him, her usual tranquil demeanor cracking as she frowned. "This is absurd. Xyenn, you don't understand the danger you're putting yourself in. Whatever it wants, it cannot be trusted."
The clerics and priests murmured their agreement, their voices rising in a chorus of disapproval. Even Draeven, usually silent in moments like this, shifted nervously beside Xyenn, his smoke curling protectively around his legs.
But before the protests could grow louder, Illyana stepped forward. Her hand reached out, gently resting on Xyenn's arm.
"Xyenn," she said softly, her voice more soothing than commanding, like a calm breeze cutting through the rising storm. Her tranquil eyes searched his face, seeing the tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his dragon arm. "You don't have to do this alone. Draeven and I are here. Whatever it is you're afraid of… we can face it together. You don't need to carry this burden by yourself."
Her touch was warm, and a faint glow of peaceful magic radiated from her fingers, brushing away the edges of his anxiety. For a moment, Xyenn exhaled, feeling the tightness in his chest ease. But as he looked into Illyana's serene face, something deep inside him stirred—something stronger than his fear.
He reached up, his human hand lightly gripping hers. His touch wasn't rough, but it was firm enough to stop the flow of her magic. His voice was quiet but steady as he spoke.
"I know what you're trying to do," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "And I appreciate it. But this… this is something I need to do. Alone."
Illyana's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but Xyenn didn't stop.
"This is what makes me a man," he said, his voice growing stronger. "This is what makes me grow. I've spent time relying on other people to pull me out of the fire. You, Draeven, Yuuna—all of you. But I can't keep doing that. If I don't conquer this fear… if I don't face danger head-on, even when it terrifies me, then what am I? This is how I'll become a man, right?"
Illyana's lips parted, as if she wanted to argue, but Xyenn shook his head. "I was scared when I fought the Dragon God of the Sun," he said, his voice rising slightly. "I thought I was going to die. But I did it. I pushed through it. And I survived. I need to do this, Illyana. Not for anyone else. For me."
Illyana stared at him, her tranquil expression faltering for the briefest moment. She wanted to argue, to beg him to reconsider. But she saw the determination in his eyes, the way his fists clenched despite the tremor in his dragon arm. She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly.
She hated this. She hated seeing him like this—standing on the edge of something dangerous, something that could break him. All she wanted was peace, for all of them. For Xyenn, for Draeven, for Yuuna, and the rest of the Tyrants. She wanted a world where they didn't have to face these kinds of decisions, where they could live without fear and pain.
But she knew Xyenn. She knew that if she tried to force her will on him, it would only drive a wedge between them. He needed this. Even if it tore at her, she had to let him go.
Finally, Illyana sighed, her voice soft and reluctant. "Alright," she said. "If this is what you need… I won't stop you."
She turned to the others, her serene expression returning as she addressed the room. "Trust him," she said calmly. "Let him do this."
Vektor's face twisted in anger. "This is madness!" he bellowed. "You would gamble with his life—and with ours? The demon will not speak truth. It will twist his mind, corrupt his soul. This is a mistake!"
Faera nodded sharply. "I agree. Xyenn, you don't understand the forces you're dealing with. The darkness is insidious. It will—"
Before she could finish, Draeven stepped forward, his usual nervousness replaced with something stronger. He clenched his fists, his smoke curling around them as his eyes glowed a faint red.
"Let him do this," Draeven said, his voice trembling but loud.
The room fell silent as everyone turned to him, their surprise clear. Draeven's hands shook, but he kept going, his voice growing steadier with each word.
Illyana looked at Draeven, "Draeven…"
"I know it sounds crazy," Draeven said. "I know it's dangerous. But Xyenn can handle it. I've seen him do things that should've been impossible. He's stronger than any of us give him credit for. If he says he can do this, then let him."
The smoke around his fists flared slightly, and his glowing eyes narrowed. "Or," he said, his voice dropping into a low growl, "you'll have to get through us."
The room went silent again, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Draeven's heart pounded in his chest as he thought to himself, 'I actually did it! Shit! We're gonna fight now, aren't we?'
But Faera's eyes lingered on Draeven for a moment, then shifted to Illyana, whose tranquil expression remained steady despite the storm of emotions beneath the surface. Finally, Faera sighed, her voice soft. "Fine," she said. "We'll leave him. But this is on your head, Illyana."
The clerics and priests began to file out reluctantly, casting wary glances at Xyenn as they passed.
As Illyana turned to leave, she paused, her hand lingering on Xyenn's arm for a moment. "Please," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. "Be careful."
Xyenn nodded. "I will."
Illyana hesitated, her heart pulling her in two directions. She wanted to stay, to help, to bring her peaceful magic to him and shield him from whatever darkness lay ahead. But she remembered his words, the way he had looked at her. She grit her teeth, forcing herself to step away.
Her hands clenched at her sides as she walked toward the door, her mind racing. 'I hate this,' she thought. 'I hate standing back and doing nothing. But he's right. I can't force myself on him. This is his choice. His fight.'
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice when Draeven stepped up beside her. He gently grabbed her hand, his own trembling slightly. "He's got this," Draeven said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination.
Illyana looked down at his hand, then back at Xyenn. She took a deep breath, letting the tension drain from her shoulders. "I hope you're right," she whispered.
As they left the room, the door creaked closed behind them, leaving Xyenn alone with the demon baby.
The creature's red spiral eye gleamed in the dim light, and its voice slithered through the air like a dagger.
"Now, we speak."