The next morning arrived with all the grace like a sunrise after the previous day could have. Ophilia rose at the designated hour with the rest of the travelers, and much to her surprise, her head felt even clearer than it had the day before. She was still grappling with the weight of what was to come next, yes, but she had needed the time to sleep much more than she realized. All of a sudden, the past didn't feel quite as suffocating as it had after her discussion with Bartolo, and Quarrycrest felt like another obstacle that she could overcome. Ophilia felt as if she could breathe again, and she hadn't even realized that she had been holding the air in her lungs since the afternoon of the day before.
It didn't take long for the travelers to check out of the inn and pull all of their things in the direction of the town's entrance. Bartolo was standing there waiting for the group, a kind smile on his face. Ophilia approached him first, and he glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the party along the way. "I see that you're all well-prepared for your journeys."
"The path to Quarrycrest won't be an easy one," Ophilia replied simply. "The terrain there isn't exactly the best for traveling, but we'll be there by the time the sun goes down. After that, we'll be off again to see what else we can find in the rest of Orsterra."
"You're a lot like your father... I'm certain that he would be proud to see you this way," Bartolo smiled. He placed a hand on her shoulder gently. "If you decide to return, feel free to come and visit me in the church. We would be more than happy to see you again. If you need anything, all you must do is say the word."
"Thank you," Ophilia returned. She took a small step backwards after Bartolo pulled his hand away, and she glanced around the area curiously. Emil and Derryl had said that they would be there to bid her farewell, but she was starting to believe that they wouldn't be there. She shouldn't have expected it; the group was leaving early in the morning, and chances were high that the two boys were still fast asleep in bed after the series of misadventures they had endured the day before.
Just before Ophilia could give up though, she heard an indistinct cry in the distance. Soon afterwards, the shadows began to shift beneath the lights of the rising sun, and Derryl and Emil appeared in Ophilia's line of sight. Both of them seemed out of breath and then some, and Emil was left hunched over with his hands on his knees as he tried to push through his panting.
"Emil! Derryl!" Ophilia greeted as her face broke out in a smile. She took a step towards them and leaned over so that she was closer to their height. "I'm glad to see you two again."
"I'm sorry we're late," Emil apologized in between heavy, breathless huffs. "We fell asleep early after playing with Nate yesterday, and we lost track of time. We didn't know when you were going to leave, so we came out to check, and..."
"We caught you just in time," Derryl finished for him with a nod. He paused for a long moment, clearly searching for the right words, before he looked up to meet Ophilia's gaze. "If you ever come back to Saintsbridge... Say hello to us, okay?"
Ophilia nodded. "You didn't even have to ask. If I ever return here, I'll be sure to find you," she assured him. "And when I do come back, I want to hear all about what you boys have gotten up to since I was last here. Maybe you could properly introduce me to your other friend as well."
Emil and Derryl looked to one another before nodding. "Yeah!" they chorused in harmony. Their faces spread into bright smiles, and Ophilia couldn't help but grin herself. There was something about the innocence and love for the world found in childhood that was simply endlessly infectious.
Ophilia looked to the rest of her friends at that before nodding once more. "Until then... Do your best to stay out of trouble, alright?" she questioned. Derryl and Emil nodded their confirmation before starting to wave as Ophilia turned away and gestured for the rest of the travelers to follow her. Bartolo joined in the waving as well, a smile on his face as he looked away from the pair of children beside him.
All too soon, the town of Saintsbridge was little more than a memory against the skyline, but Ophilia's smile still hadn't faded away. Regardless of what happened next, she knew that she would find her way back to Saintsbridge eventually. When the time came, she would have all sorts of new stories to share with her new friends there, and she knew they would be more than happy to return the favor.
Despite all the hardships, Saintsbridge had been a net positive, and Ophilia wouldn't have traded it for the world.
The gentle streams of the Riverlands eventually gave way to the Cliftlands the same way they always did when one was traveling west. Therion kicked a small pebble along his path, though it was one of the many that marked the road between Saintsbridge and Quarrycrest. If there was one thing he had learned about Orsterra across his many years of travel, it was that traveling through the Cliftlands was perhaps the biggest pain of them all. The Sunlands were manageable with the right supplies, and the same applied to the Frostlands at the opposite end of the climate spectrum. Even the Highlands, the region most similar in terrain to the Cliftlands, could be handled easily enough since the rocks at least had the decency to be even.
The Cliftlands, on the other hand, were decent to no one.
Therion liked to think that he had gotten used to traveling through the Cliftlands over the years, but the truth was that he absolutely hated having to wander through them. The rusty rocks usually gave way to steep cliffs and sharp precipices, and if one was smart, they would know better than to look out over the edge. Therion had learned that lesson ages ago, and he chose not to poke that monstrosity, instead concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
Still, it took a lot more effort than it honestly should have, and Therion had to wonder not for the first time and certainly not for the last how anybody could stand to live in a place like this. Bolderfall was one of his favorite locales, yes, but he still didn't know how or why the ancestors of Orsterra had decided that building a city into a mountainside was a good idea. Doing it multiple times seemed even more ridiculous. Quarrycrest was probably the best out of the cities in terms of the layout of the land since it was safer than most Cliftlands crags, but that wasn't saying much given how risky it was to simply travel in and out of Quarrycrest. It was no wonder Morlock's forces were defeated so easily; marching through the Cliftlands frequently and necessarily would accomplish nothing aside from granting the gift of exhaustion to all of the troops.
Then again, Therion couldn't exactly bash him too much. It probably would have been smarter for the group to use the Warp Staff to go back to Stillsnow and get to Victors Hollow that way, but as long as Cyrus was still tracking leads on that damn book, they had to go through Quarrycrest. Therion did his best not to curse the tome for being such a pain in the ass, but his attempts never got him far, and he kicked his pebble forward by five feet in a single swing thanks to the boost of energy his rage provided him.
The cliffs below were just as threatening as they always had been, and it took every ounce of energy Therion had to not look. Just the idea of having to acknowledge the edges of the land made him feel sick and angry for a thousand different reasons, but he refused to let himself get too caught up in it yet. He couldn't lose his focus now. They would be in Quarrycrest soon enough, and hopefully, he would be able to consider all of this in the past when he arrived.
That was going to be much easier said than done though. Therion couldn't stop thinking about the cliffs no matter how hard he tried, and the sensation of the bangle around his wrist only made it worse. He should have just taken it off. He had no intentions of running away yet, but at the same time, he didn't know if he was ready to explain to the rest of the group that he had found a way to remove it. That would mean having to tell them that he was staying with them for reasons other than convenience and obligation, and that was an emotionally draining conversation Therion didn't think he was ever going to be comfortable having. He hadn't ever been best at handling the way he felt, and he knew that hadn't changed even after he joined the group. He could think about it later when he didn't feel like even coming close to the subject was going to make him want to slam his face against the mountains around him in frustration.
The shrine was getting closer. That was something Therion could say conclusively. Cyrus was still at the front of the group as he admired the map that Barham had given them, and Tressa remained at his side with as much curiosity in her eyes as ever. Everyone else filed in behind them with Therion taking up the rear. He was more than fine with that; he wasn't exactly in the mood to be perceived much more than he absolutely had to. Maybe it was the mere environment of the Cliftlands that was putting him in a bad mood. Therion couldn't say, but he didn't bother to investigate it more than he had to either.
Instead, Therion did his best to keep his mind from wandering, using the rhythmic pattern of his shoes against the orange ground below. He couldn't afford to let himself be too caught up in his own thoughts, but at the same time, they were just about the only thing that was rushing through his head. Therion kicked his pebble across the ground once again, and once again, it took far too much of his restraint to make sure that his gaze was trained on the rock rather than the rest of the area around him. After all, the cliffs nearby were sharp and steep, and he didn't even want to think of what might happen next if he looked out over the edge for any longer than he already had.
Falling, falling, falling-
"It seems we've arrived."
Therion came to an abrupt stop at the sound of Cyrus' voice, and he glanced up to see that, sure enough, the cliffs had parted for what they could only assume was the entrance to a shrine. Therion blinked a few times just to make sure that it was real, but the vision remained prominent. They actually had arrived, albeit much sooner than Therion had expected. Maybe he had drifted off into his thoughts a lot deeper than he had realized.
Luckily for Therion, the entrance to the shrine led them deeper into the mountains, and that meant that they would be surrounded while they took care of the business that awaited them next. There was no reason for Therion to fear slipping and falling to his death after they stepped into the shrine. That fact was almost even more relieving to Therion than the fact that they had found the shrine at all, and every tight knot in his chest immediately seemed to dispel and unwind at the sight of the entrance.
Therion reached out and pressed one hand against the rocks near the entrance, and the earth seemed to tremble in response. Therion yanked his hand back instinctively, knowing that this was probably going to lead to some type of trouble. The trembling of the ground didn't end with a rockslide though, and instead, the entrance of the shrine showed itself for what it truly was. Curtains of orange rock parted before sliding away into the mountainside. As was to be expected, the path ahead was dark and silent.
"Well, I guess we can at least be glad we found it so soon," Tressa commented as she looked to the rest of the group. She watched them for a few beats before turning her attention back to the entrance of the shrine. "Are we ready to see what we find in there?"
Nobody objected, and Tressa grinned. "I'm going to take that as a yes then!" she proclaimed before marching into the cave. Cyrus rolled up the map and tucked it away with the rest of his things before trailing after her, and everyone else brought up the rear. Therion scurried inside much faster than he intended to, and he was sure that somebody had noticed how out of character his behavior was, but he couldn't be bothered to care. He was too relieved to not have to worry about falling anymore to give the others' trains of thought even a passing glance.
The inside of the shrine was dark at first, but torches burst to life soon after the group stepped inside. The flames this time were bright red, as if the infernos of hell had been mounted on the walls when nobody was paying attention. As soon as the flames sparked into existence, Therion was hit with a strange sense of familiarity. He couldn't say for sure where he had felt this before, but he was confident that he knew this place somehow.
No, that likely wasn't it. He likely knew the owner of the shrine somehow. That had to be it.
But how could that be possible? Therion liked to think that he would have remembered it if he had any run-ins with the gods. Not even Ophilia was familiar with the higher powers of Orsterra before all of this, and she was the Flamebearer on top of having been saved by Aelfric previously. Therion would know it if he had met any of the gods, but at the same time, he simply couldn't shake the sensation that he had felt this way before. It was a primal instinct that he couldn't ignore no matter how hard he tried. It defied all reason, but it seemed that most things in Therion's life did these days.
The pathway to the altar at the shrine's end was simple and bathed in scarlet. Therion's gaze flickered every which way as he attempted to figure out just what about this place felt so familiar to him, but as was to be expected, he found nothing but the darkness of the shrine. Therion couldn't tell if it was because he had been struggling so much to not think about falling before, but it seemed as if the abyss beneath the shrine's central bridge was much deeper than it ever had been previously. He knew that there was no chance any of them could fall as long as the rails were there, but the fear yet lingered.
There's no chance of falling... Unless you get pushed.
Therion promptly shoved that thought as far from his mind as he possibly could when the end of the shrine finally arrived in his line of sight. The stone carving that stood atop the altar appeared as a dagger with a curved edge. Something about the sight drew Therion in, and he found himself at the front of the group before he knew it. He examined the stone carefully, and while he wanted to turn and ask if the others were ready to see what was waiting for them at the end of this path, he couldn't bring himself to speak.
Luckily for him, Primrose was more than happy to take over the job for him. "Are we ready to go, everyone?" she questioned. Therion didn't see them nod, but he did sense it as it unfolded behind him. He didn't miss a beat in reaching out and touching the stone, and just like that, white light filled his vision. He closed his eyes to block out the glow, allowing his body and reality to shift into the separate realm where the upcoming battle was set to take place.
Therion opened his eyes once more a moment later, and he glanced around to see the same old battlefield as always. The red torches that lined the space were the same as always, and Therion watched them as he belatedly realized that there was no more risk of falling here. He was in a new realm, and he was safe from his greatest fears now. He hadn't realized that he needed the reassurance until he was desperate for it, and this was exactly what he had required.
As Therion calmed himself from the whiplash of the Cliftlands and the shrine, he examined the rest of the battlefield, eventually settling his gaze on the single unfamiliar figure in the area. The person in question was a man who was on the shorter end, just barely standing taller than Therion himself. Much of his body was swallowed by a dark purple cloak that billowed around him like the shadows themselves above simple black clothing. His shoes were a deep obsidian color, and each time he shifted, a few embers appeared in his wake. He walked with the path of fire beneath his feet, and Therion was certain that they would be seeing that in full as the fight began in full.
The man had a long black scarf wrapped around his neck, and the edges shifted in an invisible wind. His skin was tanned, though his hair was a stark white to contrast it. His white hair fell around his face in a thick curtain, obscuring his eyes from view. Beneath his hair, there was another barricade to his eyes. It was a dark strip of fabric that vanished between the shaggy threads of his hair. His white tresses fell around his upper back, and the edges seemed to flicker with fire the same way his shoes did. When Therion looked even closer, he could see a few strands of black mark the white of the man's hair. They were few and far between, but when Therion paid as much attention as he could stand, he could see them among the ash and embers.
Once again, Therion was hit with an overwhelming sensation of familiarity. He had met this man somewhere before, or at the very least, he had felt his presence somewhere previously. It was impossible to say when or where it could have happened given just who this man was, but Therion was still certain of it. He swallowed dryly at the thought, doing his best to sift through his memories to figure out just where all of this reminiscence and familiarity was coming from.
Falling, falling, falling-
"Aeber," Therion said simply to stop the tempest of screams in the back of his mind. That was who this was. The god of misfortune and fire had always been said to have lived in the Cliftlands. Some legends even stated that the rocks had turned red because his footsteps had charred away their gray exterior, leaving behind stones the color of his flames. It was unsurprising that he was here of all places. After all, where else would Aeber have belonged?
The man smirked to himself at that, though it was hard to see his face around the massive scarf covering the lower half of his head. There were a few marks of dark purple across his chin, almost like diagonal scars. "Thou hath done well to make it this far, travelers."
Therion nodded at that, knowing that Aeber was staring directly at him specifically. Even with the mask in the way, Therion could feel Aeber's gaze, and for some reason, it made him nauseous. Why was this upsetting him so much? He couldn't have simply met a god before this. The gods were unable to manifest anywhere outside of their shrines, but at the same time, everything about Aeber felt familiar in a comfortable sort of way, like the god had come to ease Therion's suffering in his hour of need. No matter how hard Therion strained though, he couldn't quite find a way to make the pieces slot together the way that they should have.
Therion's gaze dropped soon afterwards to Aeber's hip, and he realized there was a sheath for a dagger hidden among the swirling dark purple of the god's cloak. That had to be the legendary weapon they were searching for. The blade's hilt was a pristine obsidian color, but the knife itself was a crisp silver. Therion could only imagine that the weapon produced sparks of flame when it was activated in full given the way that flames seemed to curl and comfort each other part of Aeber's body.
"I should have known that you would be the one we found here," Cyrus remarked with a small frown. "There are so many legends about the Cliftlands that tie in so heavily with your legacy... It all feels rather obvious in hindsight."
"Looking to the past doesen little to aid the present," Aeber said simply. "For the moment, we haven a battle to resolve... If thou art ready for combat." He reached for his dagger, and everything about his posture slipped into something easy and nonchalant. Other gods like Aelfric, Alephan, and Brand had possessed countless grace and elegance, but Aeber seemed to be the opposite, relaxed and down to earth. The closest comparison Therion could think of was Bifelgan's lack of mind towards station, but even that link didn't feel entirely accurate. Aeber simply felt like a beast of his own.
And that was the part that left Therion feeling all the more haunted about recognizing the man.
Aeber twirled his knife once before letting it fall into his grip easily. Sure enough, the edges of the weapon seemed to grow heated, and the steel would have begun to distort itself had it not been created from flames themselves. Something in the back of Therion's mind told him that any lesser weapon-anything not made to handle the power of the gods-would be bound to crumble under the weight of such intense fire. In other words, only legendary weapons were going to be able to clash directly with Aeber's blade. Therion's regular weapons would only hold him back.
Aeber glanced around at the rest of the group as they gathered their weapons in hand to prepare for the battle, and a smirk appeared on his lips. Everything about him seemed smug in a way that Therion found all too familiar, a sign that Aeber was analyzing their every weakness before the battle could even begin. "I noticen thou hast collected many of my comrades' legendary weapons," Aeber commented. "I wouldst be seventh among them to crossen blades with thee, yes?"
"You would be," Olberic confirmed with a nod. "Your fellow gods have certainly proven challenging to us in the past, and I have no doubt that you will do much the same."
Aeber let out a small laugh at that, and the sound immediately sent a shiver running up Therion's spine. "I suppose we shall simply haven to see," he remarked. He made sure that everyone in the group was ready with his gaze even though his eyes remained hidden from view. As soon as he was sure all was well, he practically launched himself forward, though Therion didn't even see him jump or start to run. It was as if Aeber had simply started to glide across the stone below, flames crackling in his path before fizzling out just as quickly as they had appeared.
Aeber raised his dagger high above his head before bringing it down in Alfyn's direction. The apothecary managed to throw up the Rose Axe just in time to make sure he didn't get hurt, though Therion was certain that Aeber expected this. He already knew that Alfyn would be able to defend himself; that was why he had struck so suddenly to begin with. The two were certainly an even match, something that Therion never would have anticipated given how long Aeber had been honing his skills thanks to his station as a god. Then again, it seemed as if Aeber was nowhere near as physically powerful as some of the other gods that the group had fought against in the past, so Therion shouldn't have been that shocked when Aeber's strength didn't immediately overwhelm Alfyn.
As soon as he realized that he wasn't going to be gaining the upper hand over Alfyn any time soon, Aeber decided to retreat, seemingly disappearing into the shadows even without the use of any dark magic. Therion could tell that the god was hiding somewhere else within the shrine even if he couldn't see him, and he attempted to find even the slightest shift in the shadows that could point him to his foe's location. It seemed as if this was how Aeber fought. He lacked the raw physical strength to take his opponents head on in combat, so he used his environment and surprise attacks to his advantage. Given that he fought with such a small weapon, it shouldn't have been that surprising.
Therion saw the sudden shift in the darkness the instant before Aeber launched in his direction. Therion rolled out of the way, coming up in a crouch as Aeber slid across the earthen floor of the shrine. Aeber smirked at Therion once again, and the two locked gazes for what felt like an eternity. The air seemed to grow tense, and all Therion could hear was the flicker of distant fire in his ears.
All of a sudden, Therion felt his left eye pound with a deep ache he hadn't felt in years, and he was certain that he was going to be sick.
Therion wasn't looking into Aeber's gaze long enough for it to become an issue though. Instead, Aeber simply held up one hand and snapped. Immediately, the fire in the shrine grew dim, only vague flickers that barely resembled their previous passion. Unlike in most of the other shrines, there was no light streaming in from the cracks in the stone overhead, and Therion was almost certain that was by design. After all, limiting the opponent's visibility had to be part of Aeber's strategy.
In fact, Aeber seemed to have a lot in common with the way Therion fought. Therion never wanted to admit it, but he hadn't ever been able to put on muscle the way he would have hoped. He supposed that was the price he paid by being a thief, struggling with hunger when he was young and only finding his footing in the business when it was too late for him to undo the damage starvation had done to his small body. There were a thousand other ways to make up for a weakness like that if he was willing to get creative though, and Aeber's tactics most certainly seemed to understand this. In a few ways, it was almost uncanny how much the two had in common.
Falling, falling, falling-
Ophilia held up the Ember with a cautious hand, though she gripped the Illumination Staff tightly in her other hand to make sure she was ready to attack the instant Aeber struck. It was hard to see much of anything even with the Ember lighting up at least a bit of the shrine, and Therion could only barely make out Ophilia and H'aanit's faces since they were the ones closest to their light source.
That appeared to be all that was necessary though, as H'aanit nocked an arrow on her bow and sent it flying after just a few seconds of the heavy silence. Therion heard a whistle echo through the shrine that he was certain had come from Aeber as the arrow whirled through the air. H'aanit had managed to catch a glimpse of the thief, it seemed, and she made the first move instead of giving him the opportunity to do so.
Aeber, however, didn't seem to want to let this slide, and he appeared behind H'aanit soon afterwards. She had already reached for her axe with her spare hand, and she whirled around to face him while swinging it in a wide arc. He ducked beneath the attack before coming at her from below, and H'aanit was sent sprawling off to the side. She was lost to the darkness soon afterwards, and the fire in the shrine grew brighter for a brief flicker of a second. Thanks to the sudden spike in light, Therion was able to catch a glimpse of H'aanit on the ground as she attempted to rise to her feet, a groan already pushing its way free of her lips.
Therion could already tell this battle wasn't going to be a simple one, but he refused to let that stop him. Instead, he twirled his dagger over his hand the same way that he had seen Aeber do a few short moments prior. He began to scan the rest of the shrine for even the slightest trace of the deceitful god, ignoring the way his heart was pounding wildly in his heart and his ears. With each passing second, he became more convinced that he had met Aeber at some point before all of this, though he had no idea where that could have been.
No, he had to stop lying to himself.
But he could think about falling later. He had a fight to win.
Whew. Interesting chapter, huh?
I decided to mix up the regular routine for a bit here by cutting out the regular interim chapter we have between the end of a main story chapter and the start of the next shrine. I didn't think there was all that much that needed to be covered here, so I decided to leave it be for later. Instead, you get a quick glimpse into Therion's mind before the fight with Aeber kicks right off.
Speaking of Therion and Aeber... This is interesting, isn't it? I wonder where the two of them could have met... Hm. Anybody who's familiar with the game might have a theory, but I'm going to decline to explain it for a while longer. Let's just say that Ophilia wasn't the only one who was saved by a god before the story began. It'll be a while before we can jump into that again though, so for now, I'd love to hear your theories.
There's not all that much to say about this chapter honestly since a lot of it was dedicated to Therion's internal monologue or the battle against Aeber, so I'm going to leave things off here. Next time, we'll jump right back into the fight against Aeber and see it to its conclusion. Until then, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Feedback is appreciated as always. Have a nice day, everyone!
-Digital