The Oracle halted by the entrance of the grand castle, a pair of towering statues
stood opposite each other, their stony countenances regal and serene, each adorned with a ring of light floating above their heads, like halos of celestial
energy. As she approached, she spotted two guards, clad in resplendent white
and golden armour, stationed behind the statues. They seemed to pay her no
mind, their vigilant gazes scanning the surroundings as they went about their
duties.
With determined steps, the Oracle made her way into the castle, where she was
greeted by the familiar sight of statues lining the path, their stony forms bowing on the pristine white marble floor, leading her deeper into the grand vestibule. The statues seemed to lead to a divide, offering two different
directions for her to choose. As she moved forward, her eyes were drawn to a colossal golden head protruding from the walls, its eyes gleaming in a warm and inviting yellow light. The Oracle paused for a moment, basking in the radiant glow, seeking
solace in the comforting embrace of the celestial light.
However, her moment of contemplation was interrupted by the approach of
guards. "Your reverence," a familiar, old voice called out to her.
The Oracle, Alara, turned to see an elderly lothran emerging from the shadows. It was
Master Yhulthad. He was a powerful and venerable figure, his buff physique and
gleaming white eyes attesting to his age and wisdom. He was garbed in a long
silver robe with darker shades of silver etchings along the edge.
"I was not aware you were here," the Oracle confessed, her surprise evident. She accepted the old mans hand, leaning in to place a reverent kiss upon it. Yhulthad was
one of the oldest angels in Ailon and one of the oldest beings known in
existence.
"Matters are
dire," Yhulthad meekly confessed. "I'm sure we are here regarding the same matter," he added as he returned the kiss to the Oracle's hand, sensing the lingering scent of the elixir that clung to her skin.
The Oracle regarded the high elder with a perplexed expression, her azure eyes searching for answers. "You know what's going on?" she inquired.
Yhulthad lovingly held her hand in between his, his gaze remaining
fixated on her cupped hand. "I am not too sure," he admitted, his
voice tinged with regret.
The Oracle's brow furrowed in concern, still seeking to make sense of the situation.
"You're on your way to meet your brother," Yhulthad proclaimed, sidestepping out of the Oracle's way. "I was, yes."
"Then allow me to accompany you," the high elder offered. "I was just on my way there as well."
As Master Yhulthad and the Oracle continued their journey through the
magnificent halls of the castle, their steps fell in a rhythm that spoke of the
deep camaraderie they had shared for countless celestial cycles. Yhulthad, with
his hands tucked behind his back, exuded an air of authority and wisdom as he
glided beside her, ever a stoic figure who had guided the Oracle through her
formative years. The Oracle, dignified and graceful, walked with her hands
tucked in front, her every movement a testament to the elegance she had
inherited from her mentor.
The walls of the castle bore intricate carvings that depicted the history of Ailon, from the creation of the celestial realm to the war against Lumeria that had shaped their
society. The castle itself was a testament to the grandeur of their people, a
place where lothrans had convened for eons.
The Oracle's voice held a note of concern as she delved into the heart
of the matter. "Yhulthad, have you warned the people about what's going
on?" Her azure eyes, alight with wisdom, sought the depths of the high
elder's thoughts.
Yhulthad, his aura radiating an aura of sagacity and benevolence,
replied with a sombre resolve. "No, my dear. We have chosen to shield them
from the knowledge of it all, the revelation would undoubtedly ignite panic and
unrest. The thought that they, too, could succumb to the clutches of such a terror
isn't necessary as of yet."
The oracle halted as she studied her old mentor and friend.
"I'm scared." She prefaced,
"I was not before but you being here is enough to know how serious this is. Did
Arioch send you?" She inquired.
The old lothran studied her face, in eyes squinting briefly as he contemplated his next words.
"Yes. Arioch did send me here. I had to step away from my duties because Valrath graced us with his presence and as such, I am to serve as his guide."
His eyes glinted.
The oracles mind began to race, it had been a while since a Lumerian had walked the
lands outside their own halls.
"Him being here shows how
seriously the gods are taking this matter. So set your fears aside and believe
that all will be well." He said reassuringly.
As the Oracle and Yhulthad continued on through the majestic halls of
the castle, the weight of their conversation hung heavy in the air.
The Oracle's azure eyes shimmered with a mixture of
concern and determination as she sought answers to the enigma that plagued
their celestial realm.
"Does Valrath know what's causing this scourge of madness?"
The Oracle's voice resonated with a sense of urgency as she posed the question
to her wise companion. Yhulthad,
his ethereal form gliding effortlessly beside her, met her inquiry with a measured
response. "The cause of any ailment that shatters the mind is always the
denizens of darkness," he stated simply, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom.
"You mean demons," the Oracle clarified, her tone tinged with a hint of apprehension.
"Yes, but the type of demon that could cause madness in those as
divine as us is unheard of to me," Yhulthad confessed, his expression
grave.
The Oracle absorbed his words, a furrow forming on her brow as she
pondered the implications of their conversation.
"But if anyone would know," Yhulthad began.
"Valrath would," she continued, her voice infused with a quiet confidence.
"And i'm sure he'll reveal it all to us in the coming days," Yhulthad stated
with conviction, his unwavering faith in their leaders evident in his tone.
Silently, the Oracle nodded in agreement, her mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.
Together, they pressed on through the grandeur of the angelic halls,
their footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floors.
As they approached the towering doors of solid blue light that marked
the entrance to the chieftain's chamber, a sense of reverence washed over the
Oracle. The doors, adorned with intricate celestial symbols, seemed to pulsate
with a faint, otherworldly glow, casting an aura of solemnity over the
threshold.
With a shared glance, Alara and Yhulthad braced themselves.
As they entered the grand chieftain's chambers, a sense of unease
settled upon them. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the weight of
impending conversation hanging in the air like a storm cloud on the horizon.
In the midst of the opulent room stood a marble oak round table, its
polished surface gleaming in the soft light. At its head was Xalandra, the
chieftain, resplendent in regal white armor, a golden sword at his hip. His
features, adorned with short silver strands of hair and piercing white eyes,
betrayed a sense of authority tempered by weariness.
To his right sat Valrath, the Lumerian god, his presence commanding
attention like a tempest looming on the horizon. His eyes, dark as the void and
radiant as the moon, held a power that seemed to emanate from the very depths
of existence. He was clad in garments of the finest silk, woven with threads of
celestial light that shimmered with otherworldly beauty.
"Alara," Valrath spoke softly, his voice carrying the weight of eons. "It pleases me to
know you're working hard to cure the infected."
"Valrath," she replied evenly, her gaze shifting from Xal to
Valrath and back again.
"It would help to know the cause of the infection," Alara
continued, her tone measured but resolute. "If I could get my hands on it,
I could make a more potent cure."
Their conversation unfolded like a delicate dance, each word fraught with underlying
tension and unspoken apprehension. Alara's disdain for the gods was palpable, a
reflection of the lothrans' collective fear of their capricious whims and
unfathomable power.
Alara's worry flickered in her eyes as she glanced at her brother, Xal.
"Forgive me, Lord Valrath, but your sudden presence has rendered me out of
sorts. I am caught unprepared," she managed, shifting to place herself in
a seat opposite Valrath.
Yhulthad sat beside her, his hand squeezing hers
comfortingly under the table.
The intimidating presence of Valrath loomed over them, his gaze piercing
and unsettling. There was a darkness within him that sent shivers down Alara's
spine, a reminder of the dangers that lurked within the realm of the gods.
"Rygor sent me," Valrath stated simply, his tone cold, almost
cruel. "He wishes to see this matter resolved before more harm is
caused."
Xal attempted to reassure Valrath, his voice tinged with desperation.
"I'm sorry to inform you, but little is known about what we're facing as
of yet. But we are pursuing all avenues aggressively."
Valrath's response was dismissive. "Don't bother," he said flatly. "The Aratheans are to blame."
As he spoke, Valrath's words carried a weight that seemed to echo through the chamber. "Their energy consumption has grown too great,"
he continued, his voice echoing with malice. "They feed upon stars faster
than the stars can form. Know that the Aratheans' hunger for energy has
weakened the veil of reality, shedding the thin layers that separate the known
from the unknown." Xal's expression darkened as he absorbed Valrath's words. "Single-handedly, they
have invited unknown entities from the void into our existence," he added,
his voice tinged with anger and frustration.
Alara's mind raced as she tried to comprehend the gravity of the
situation. "So you're saying they are causing demons to enter our realms,
and as a result, these demons are spreading madness?" she ventured, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Valrath's eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Not exactly," he interjected.
"Something much worse."
Valrath began, his voice commanding attention, "there is a breach,
a point where energy from the nether has entered into existence and that dark
energy is feeding on life. The bigger this breach gets, the faster this
corruption spreads, and soon enough, everything will fall into darkness. Into
realms plagued by unending suffering—a fate I would personally consider worse
than death," he concluded with serious intent, his words hanging heavy in
the air like a dark omen.
Valrath's words sent a chill down Alara's spine, the gravity of his
proclamation weighing heavily upon her. She exchanged a worried glance with
Xal, his moon-colored face etched with concern.
"What do you propose we do?" Xal inquired, his voice tinged with worry.
"You shall act in time," Valrath stated, his gaze fixed on Alara. "Given the grave nature of this situation, Lord Rygor would see the
breach sealed first."
As Valrath spoke of the Aratheans' fate, his tone was laced with
venomous resolve. "As for the Aratheans, their fate is sealed. For the
threat they pose, we will see them destroyed," he declared, his words
leaving no room for argument or questions— he had proclaimed divine judgment.
Xal's disbelief was palpable as he questioned, "Are we to destroy
them?"
Valrath's response was chilling. "Soon enough, the Aratheans will
come for your sacred cube, it now serves as their only lifeline for salvation.
They shall not have it," he said, his voice resonating with eerie
tones—ethereal and far removed.
"They cannot do that," Yhulthad interjected, his being perturbed by the gravity
of the god's words.
"Yet they shall," Valrath replied, his voice carrying an otherworldly weight.
"Once desperation takes hold and their survival is on the line, they would
watch you burn to save themselves."
Xal turned to his sister, his eyes pleading for reassurance. "We'll
protect the source," Alara assured him, her gaze shifting to Yhulthad.
"That is our duty, after all," the old lothran said, a sombre smile touching his
lips.
"See to it," Valrath commanded, his words
final and absolute. With a fierce glint
in his eyes, Valrath declared, "Let the Aratheans come. For when they do,
they shall face the wrath of gods."
In the ethereal glow of moonlight filtering through
the window, Xal sat by his quarters, his gaze fixed upon the expanse of his
kingdom stretching out before him. The soft night breeze whispered through the
room, carrying with it a sense of tranquillity tinged with unspoken tension.
Alara stood just outside his door, hesitating for a moment as she observed her
brother lost in thought. With a deep breath, she cleared her throat and
straightened her posture, preparing herself to enter the room.
"You've always loved the way the moonlight dances in the darkness
ever since I can remember," she began tentatively, stepping into the room.
Xalandra briefly acknowledged her presence with a fleeting glance before
returning his gaze to the moonlit vista outside. "It's breathtaking,"
he murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow. "You've done well, Xal. Better
than I ever could," Alara offered, her voice gentle yet tinged with a hint
of sadness.
"Mother would have disagreed," Xal countered softly, turning to face her fully.
"We both know she'd rest easier knowing you were on the throne."
Alara studied his face, uncertain how to respond to the melancholy in
his tone. Though his words held a hint of jest, there was an underlying sorrow
that she couldn't ignore. "That's not true," she insisted, her
discomfort evident in the subtle shift of her stance. "It's just that we
all expected you to end up as the oracle."
"Didn't turn out that way, did it?" Xal retorted, his gaze
piercing yet wounded.
Alara paused, grappling with the conflicting
emotions swirling within her. "None of us planned for it to end up this
way," she admitted defensively, her gaze flickering briefly to the floor.
Xal regarded her with a mixture of
disbelief and understanding. "I didn't mean it that way, Lara," he explained gently. "It's just... for a long time, I lived my life preparing
to do what you do. The burden I was told I would carry is on you, and that
leaves a hole, an emptiness that I can't fully fill."
Alara met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. "I'm sorry,"
she whispered, her voice tinged with regret.
"Don't be,"
Xal reassured her, his tone softening. "Fate weaves as fate wills. My
burden is light, little sister."
He offered her a warm smile, a flicker of affection in his eyes. "I
may not be the oracle, but I can help guide you, should you need
guidance," he said tenderly.
Alara returned his smile, though a pang of sorrow tugged at her heart.
The pain of not becoming the oracle still lingered within him, a wound that had
yet to fully heal. And with their mother's passing, Xal had been thrust into
the role of ruler, unprepared and burdened by the weight of expectation. "I'm sure I will," she replied, holding his gaze with understanding and
compassion.
Xal's expression softened, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I assume you're
here to say goodbye?" he inquired softly, his voice tinged with sadness.
"Master Yhulthad and I are leaving tonight. The journey to the
Narthex will take three days, and I'm sure Master Arioch isn't too pleased that
both Yhulthad and I are away from our duties," Alara explained, a note of
regret in her tone.
"Will you visit soon?" Xal asked, a pleading undertone in his voice.
"I shall," she promised, moving closer to embrace him.
As they held each
other, Alara whispered a warning in his ear, her words a silent plea for
caution in the face of danger. "Valrath is cruel and very dangerous. Be
careful, brother."
Xal said nothing, his gaze following her as she
pulled away. Of all the people he knew, only Alara dared to speak such truths
about the gods. But then again, she knew them better than most. "And you as well." Xalandra managed to say
just before Alara had left the room. "You're doing well. Serving as our Herald,
as the oracle." He stated, leaving Alara with a joy filled smiled.