So guys, here's that third part I said I would make once upon a time. Thing is though, the time since then has given us further interesting things to discuss. Now I want to point out, for the sake of some sort of continuity concurrent with the game content we're assuming that the player character is from the town of Ashdale. We are also assuming that the events of the quest "A Shadow Over Ashdale" took place not long after the player character left to begin adventuring, given the various interactions and characters. We are also assuming, and we have done so in the past, that the player character in this story is based on my own, and as my total play time has reached nine years, we will be using this as the timeline for the story, and is in continuity with the previous chapters.
Moving on, I suspect that quest content in RuneScape still has a long way to go (I'd certainly like it if it did) and thus I want this story to evolve and become "a thing" that I continue periodically as things come out, until such that they reach their limit or my adventures in RuneScape come to an end.
This chapter again contains official writings and dialogue sequences used in-game, just so we're clear, and I appreciate Jagex's writing staff for their work with it, it's always very good and interesting. The dialogue was taken directly in-game from content I have personally completed.
And once again,
**Warning**, this story will contain big spoilers for various quests and aspects of the game, especially grandmaster quests, as well as the lore of Daemonheim. If you have not completed or read about these things and do not wish to be spoiled ROTTEN stop now.
On with the show!
Chapter 3: Stirrings of Fate
Year 169 of the Fifth Age, late winter
Ashdale was well known for its full moon nights. Though the town had a reputation for ease and peace, a clear night on the full moon was the one thing that could draw visitors and the like from the mainland. Even some of other races would occasionally visit the area for that spectacular moonlit walk. It was considered an act of romance to treat your beloved to a stroll in the night, during the spring or summer.
Though tonight was clear of rain and the moon shown bright, in the depths of winter the opposite tended to be true, for it was at these times that the moon's eerie gaze would give tourists turn and bring couples bad luck, so it was said.
Sarah was a sensible, if often bored woman. She had never taken much stock into the whole "moon-flip atmosphere" as she often called it. But then, she'd never so much as been on a date before, Ashdale not offering much in local prospects, and rarely venturing out to the mainland. There hadn't been any real reason why she'd never left permanently, simply that this place was all she knew, that it held everyone she'd ever known, and that though it had never been exciting except on two occasions, she was happy here. On some days she might be willing to admit that the one thing that was holding her back was that she had no idea what she would do if she left. She liked people well enough, was never particularly bad at something, or too unhealthy to do whatever she wanted. Yet she didn't know how she would go about and meet someone, or become someone, or travel to a strange new place, or do anything besides sweep the front porch each day. Tonight was such a night where she might be able to admit these things, the only problem is no one ever asked her about them. Not in a place as boringly wholesome as Ashdale.
Perhaps that was the reason she was out walking alone on this bright winter night. She wore a thicker dress with long sleeves and boots, hands stuffed in some pockets she had, in her opinion, very tastefully sewed on. She wore nothing on her head, however, as Ashdale was a warm place that rarely got snow in the winter, usually just rain. Tonight had scarcely few clouds, making for a dry chill. Sarah was starting to wish she'd brought a hat (she refused to wear earmuffs even though there was no one around worth hiding them from, day or night) but could not bring herself to go fetch one from home.
Sarah came upon the Church of Saradomin, getting a rare chance to see the moon streaming through the high windows, the light settling around the altar and the pew she usually sat in each week, long since repaired from the rampaging witch. She thought idly what would happen if they held sermons on nights like this, but didn't think too hard on it. Attending the church and listening to the preaching's of the ways of Saradomin tended to be another boring thing she did on a regular basis, but had never been something she despised. It had simply never captivated her, although she knew some people thought differently and in the past had given her and Will no end of grief over Gudrik's more laid back musings of Guthix. She'd found them more interesting than the sermons at the church, but hadn't really taken an interest in them the way Will had. The ways of the gods had always seemed so abstract and far away to her, for they had not existed in thousands of years. The world had been such a bland and tasteless thing to her more limited experience, she could scarcely imagine the deeds and thunderings of the God Wars that she'd heard in a few stories from wandering preachers or researchers. No, the gods had never given Sarah much to concern herself with, it was just another thing she'd gone along with her whole life. What, she wondered, was the purpose of gods in the Fifth Age? She came out of her thoughts and noticed a strangely uncomfortable light on the Star of Saradomin, though refused to admit that the winter moon was the cause. She shivered from something other than the cold, and walked away.
After leaving the church Sarah passed by the cart where the dead cow had been so long ago. She only remembered the spot because the cleanup had been one more part of her chores that day, the same day that Will had left them. What a different day that had been. Even more different was when Will had come back to Ashdale about a year later after hearing the strange accounts of disappearances on the quiet island.
That time had been the first time she'd felt real fear.
A surge through her body, adrenaline making her shake, for once not knowing if she would live or die. It had been a terrifying time for the girl who'd otherwise lived in relative innocence, as had the rest of the island.
And then Will had come, sporting some heavy yet shoddy armour and a sword, his shoulders just a little broader. She giggled out loud at the memory—he'd probably made them himself. Yet with what he'd made at his own hands she, and Ashdale, had been saved, though with some uncommon additions to the local cemetery. It had taken time for the town to adjust to the events, and the gruesome deaths that had occurred remained in everyone's memory. Cursory post investigations into the mysteries of the island and the crab-like crassians fell into more uneventful laziness, and nothing had happened on the island since.
She began heading up the way to what had been Will's house. Sarah would periodically maintain the place lest it become dusty and infested and because she often had nothing else to do, but tonight it was the lasting memories that drove her to the strange home. Though Will was something of the town's pride and joy, Sarah was the only one who would bother to come and make sure his place and things were still in order. After all, he'd never had parents, and though everyone in town knew each other no one had been as close to Will as she'd been, having been best friends as kids. Though she often told herself that Will was out doing great things in the world and it was selfish of her to think so, she's always secretly wanted him to come home. She still clearly remembered the first time she'd seen him leave, covered in sickly muck and blood from haphazardly saving the town.
"So what's next for the hero of Ashdale?" Sarah teased.
"I'm going to the mainland." He smiled. Though she'd known what he would say, something in her, something unfamiliar, wrenched.
"Oh, so you're leaving us? What a relief. Ah, you know I'm only joking. Truth is, I'll miss you. It won't be the same without you around." Will looked at her, his best friend, with something like reverence in his eyes.
"What about you?"
"Some people are born for greatness, pumpkin head. The rest of us have to play the hand we're dealt. For you, the future lies over the sea, far from Ashdale. But I'll always be here if you want to come and visit."
She ignored the prickling in her eyes. This was how it should be. Will had never been like the rest of Ashdale. He understood too much, could do too much. Perhaps that had been why they'd always gotten on so well, because she saw more than what this village had to offer in him, whereas he'd latched on to her at first as a sharp-witted companion and then as his only real friend.
He seemed to have trouble turning away from her now, having never before left home.
"Goodbye."
"Bye for now."
That had been eight years ago.
Now a woman of twenty-six, Sarah was well past the point where others would say she ought to think about her future. Yet after Will had left, it seemed like life had nothing to offer her. Sarah's boots clumped on the pavement as she walked up the so familiar hill to the cliff where Will's house remained unchanged, and every time she went up here she could not help but imagine him there outside the door waiting for her like when they were kids. So used was she to the image of the house that when she noticed the door was ajar, she startled.
She looked around, as though expecting to see someone in the night, yet she knew that no one would be out and about at this hour. She gulped, that strange rush of fear engulfing her for the first time in so long, and cautiously crept up towards the door. Upon reaching the doorway she could see a dark figure garbed in the moon shining through the window. Black spiky armor adorned the person, with crimson boots and a wicked looking hammer of the same color at his belt. Most astonishingly, a cape of glowing flames cast frightening shadows about. As she trembled and gaped she noisily stumbled over the cloak hanger next to the doorway, upon which the figure dashed around, as quick as lightning. Sarah heard a metallic singing, and the next thing she knew she was pressed against the wall with the edge of a glimmering silver sword to her throat. She stared at the sword and then into the helm of the intruder, a fearful visage with covered ears, mouth and one lensed eye, the other eye obscured by shadows. A heavy and audible breathing sounded through the helm, and that same burst of fear as years ago coursed through her. Despite her musings of the future of life, she found herself so terribly afraid of death at the sword of this stranger in her friend's home. That was, until the figure trembled, his sword leaving a thin line on her throat as she gasped, and was roughly pushed to the side. The man hurriedly backed away as his sword fell to the floor, impaling the stone. Gloved hands clutched where his face would be, and a muffled voice sounded.
"…a..rah…"
From her position against the opposite window, she calmed a little at what she thought was her name. She pulled herself up and carefully walked towards the armoured man.
"…Um…" she started, unsure and still afraid, "how do you know my name?" The man looked up slowly, and reached out slowly towards her. He stopped when he got closer to her, and then slowly reached up and unlatched his helmet, dropping it with a clatter.
Though everything seemed so different than she remembered, she still knew that face, and brought her hands to her mouth.
"My… my gods Will, what are you doing here like this? You… you scared me half to death!"
Will paused, as though he didn't recognize what she was saying. He brought his shaking and armoured hand to her face.
"Sarah…" She looked at his face and noticed something, ignoring the way her name sounded from him, something she hadn't heard in so long.
"Will… you've been crying…" Indeed, his face was streaked with clear trails of tears, and his eyes were rimmed red. He brought his other hand to her shoulder and pulled her a bit closer.
"Sarah… you're… you're really here…" Her fear was now slowly changing to a different kind of fear.
"Hey, are you alright? Or is my name the only thing you can say?" she tried to lighten things with her old wit. Her words made something glow in his eyes, like they were food to a starving man.
"Sarah… please promise me something… promise me… you'll never change, you'll stay the way you are… the way you've always been."
Yes, she was definitely concerned for her friend.
"Well seeing as I'm unlikely to ever leave this place, I think I can do that much." He smiled with relief and suddenly pulled her to him. She felt her heartbeat return to unknown levels.
"H-hey, what are you—"
She was cut off as he hastily kissed her.
All thoughts were driven from her mind. Her heart felt full, like it would burst from her chest. Then her eyes drifted shut and she jerkily put her hand on the back of his head. Despite the chill, it was sweaty. They kissed awkwardly, messily, and yet she found herself elevated, and she realized what she'd wanted all these years.
They broke apart, gasping slightly. Will held her close to his cold and hard armour plating.
"Please… never leave me alone," he breathed. She gazed at him, registering his words slowly, her mind feeling fuzzy.
"I… I… alright."
She could tell by his eyes that her words made him happy. He focused them, then released her, turning into the light. Now that she could see him better she noticed the changes. His hair was longer and tied in the back, his shoulders and uncovered arms were thick and broad, not like she remembered. He leaned forward against his table, taking in the familiar sights. He seemed to be composing himself, and breathed deeply.
"…Have you come back to the world, Will?" she asked, while blushing and also trying to hastily do the same. He raised his head.
"I should tell you, I mostly go by Thorkur these days." Sarah slowly began wondering just how much had happened while he'd been gone, and how little had happened to her in return.
"As if, to me you'll always be Will, and pumpkin head." He chuckled deeply, and her thoughts lightened.
"Fine then." He turned around, his face looking a bit less haunted, and gestured with his hand for her to come join him on the rooftop, the same way he'd done when they were young.
As they sat on the roof watching the waves crash against the cliffside, Sarah shivered a bit, still coming down from her spike of adrenaline. Will removed his strange and wonderful cape of flowing flames and wrapped it around her, and she was instantly warmed.
"Wow, they should market this, I bet it would be the latest hot thing off the street vendors." Will laughed softly.
"I don't think the makers would appreciate that. Besides, this cape is something of an extreme rarity, presented only to those who are… worthy."
"Well then I'm honored."
She noticed he spoke more slowly and quietly than before, or maybe it was just the circumstances. She squirmed a little, remembering the heat of the kiss just a minute ago, unsure of how to approach it.
"Won't you be cold without it then?" he shook his head and smiled.
"That's not what I wear it for. Besides, I've spent a lot of time in places both much hotter and much colder than you can possibly imagine."
"Well, listen to Mr. big-shot hero here, all grown up." He removed the heavy gloves from his hands and reached over to cup her cheek.
"I'm not the only one." She blushed darkly.
"Wh-what do you mean by that, hm?"
"Well, your hair's a little longer, you have a new dress, your voice is a little different, and…" he stopped.
"Well… you just seem more… elegant." Her heart skipped a bit, and she looked for a different subject to distract them.
"Well, anyway, um… what brought you here at this hour?"
"…Maybe I was feeling nostalgic." She turned back to him, relieved that at least she could still read him like a book when he was troubled.
"I don't doubt it, but when they scare me out of my wits with a sword to my neck I'm entitled to a little more explanation." His smile waned a little.
"Ah… sorry about that. Really, I am." She gave him a look and he scratched the back of his head like every other time she'd been mad at him. She understood this time though, and would let it slide, provided that he didn't try to lop her head again.
"I guess I'm just used to… killing things. And having things trying to kill me." She frowned and decided to bring it back up.
"Will… what happened?" she looked at him hard. He failed to meet her gaze, and his voice dropped.
"I've been everywhere there is to go you know. Seen and done things. Some things I'd rather forget about. I've met all the races of the realm, been a friend to many, a villain to others. I've made all sorts of discoveries. Fought so many battles. In some areas people say that I'm the best there is at what I do, but I know that's not true. Not always." He was rambling, trying to avoid what she wanted him to say.
"I've got a few Capes of Accomplishment, you know," her eyes widened a bit, "and I'd always wanted to get them all, to be the first… or maybe it's actually the second… but now I… I'm wondering if I'll live long enough to see that day." He took a deep breath, and she waited on edge, eyes silently prompting for him to continue.
"Guthix is dead." This time, Sarah felt her heart come to a stop. She couldn't speak, only wait for him to go on, if he did. He did.
"His resting place after the God Wars was discovered. The factions of every other god came, mostly for the same thing… I did what I could, but no matter how much I learn or how powerful I become, I couldn't have stopped it. First I watched it happen, then I saw everything that made Guthix who he was. There was so much that I didn't know, that no one knew… so much pain… and he… he gave me a job to do. Said I was the only one who could. But I can't. I can't."
She tried hard to find her voice again.
"…I know you better than anyone, you know. I believe in you." She couldn't think of what else to say, and wrapped her fingers around his. He held on to her tightly.
"…It's the dawn of a new Age." He looked out towards the horizon, which was starting to get light.
"There's war coming, greater and more terrible than Gielinor has ever seen. The gods will fight each other. They will fight us too. Us mortals, who can only try and stand in their way." He looked at her, pleading her to understand.
"What can we do? Who can stop them from getting whatever they want?" He shook his head.
"You can. Isn't that right?" He looked back at her with wide eyes.
"That's what Guthix wants you do to, isn't it? To protect everyone."
"…Yes."
"And he believed you could do it?"
"Yes. He gave me power to do so."
"Then you should believe in him, right?"
He nodded slowly.
"And believe in me too. Because I believe in you."
He only threaded his fingers through hers as they watched the sun rise.
They later stood outside his old home with the sun now creeping higher in the sky, hands still held.
"Now make sure you come back sooner than seven years from now, okay pumpkin head?" she said gently.
"I'll be back soon, I think. Maybe in a week or two. It's not like it's difficult for me, a master of magic, to do anymore. I want to tell you about everything else. What happened, and what I've been doing all this time. But right now it's… difficult. I'm sure news of the Sixth Age will spread very quickly though." She nodded in understanding.
"I'll always be here for you," she said softly. He looked on her with warm and grateful green eyes that made her stomach flutter when it didn't used to.
Then he reached up to caress her chin, and leaned forward. She closed her blue eyes in anticipation, and his mouth met hers, this time with gentleness.
She could not describe the kiss, not the feeling of his rougher lips on her soft ones, or the way his other hand reached out to brush the curl of her hair aside. When her tongue reached out, he immediately allowed her passage as she stroked his mouth softly. And when they broke apart the only way she could think of it was that it had been with Will, and that it was wonderful.
"Sarah, I…" she gently silenced him.
"I know. And I want to scold you for doing things terribly out of order. But still… I'm glad. And me too." She reached up to hold his hand where it rested on her cheek.
"Now, I think you need to get some rest. I'm sure you have many places to go, and important people to meet."
"None of them are as important as you." He released her but kept his gaze on her. She watched in fascination as he faded in a swirl of purple light.
Later, Sarah found herself unable to sleep despite being very tired. The events of late aside, Sarah could not prevent a plan from forming in her mind. She felt like she'd been waiting her whole life for something that she was just beginning to understand. Will probably wouldn't approve of what she was about to do, but while he was out protecting everyone, who would protect him?
The week following Will's promised visit a brief note appeared on her mother's kitchen table as the old family sword disappeared from the mantle.
Year 2 of the Sixth Age, early summer
As a goddess, Sumona could see far within the reaches of the desert. She could see the insects rolling along the grains, the pyramids standing proud, vultures circling high in search of scraps, crocodiles slinking through the muddy waters on the hunt and the monkey colony tittering in disagreement with each other. This was her domain, her land, her kingdom. She arose from meditation to greet the rising sun, gazing unblinking into its unforgiving rays. Sometimes she wondered what pain mortals would feel doing the same, but it did not harm her. The sun and the wind ran through the winding sands bringing with them destruction. The desert had been the only home she knew after her father had destroyed the lush greens to show the mahjarrat their folly. That had been when she'd understood the fallacy of rebirth, for in this barren land, nothing could survive, would ever survive.
Her irritation at the human tribes that remained in the desert had lasted with her for thousands of years now. Who would choose to continue living in such desolation, where nothing grew, where the sun beat down in the day and chill winds ravaged at night? Those humans thought so arrogantly, believing that they could control this harsh world, use it to their advantage, and live. She knew that someday they would understand the consequences of their own ignorance, and then the desert lands could give them no more. At that time they would leave, or die. When Sumona had first donned her current persona, she'd had difficulty keeping her disdain out of sight, sometimes snarling at passing patrols of Menaphite soldiers. They were the oldest humans to have ever lived in the desert, even since before the God Wars began. She tried not to think of the times when the Menaphites had aided her in protecting the Kharidian lands, when times were different. There was no worth left in the past.
And as the past was the past, today she could manage a stiff nod towards the waving street vendor opening his wares for the day.
She didn't venture out of her home very often. She didn't shop, eat, or partake in any human entertainment. Sometimes she went down into the smoke dungeon, or off to the pyramids, or else went to spy on various officials in Al Kharid, but today was a little different. She could see all within the desert, including the presence of one human in particular, the only human she was familiar with. The human who simultaneously foiled her every attempt at gaining total control over these desert lands and then made every attempt to befriend her. A human she'd attempted to kill several times.
Sumona waved aside the curtain to the bar, where Ali the Barman was attempting to rouse Thorkur, who was slumped over the bar with several varieties of empty glasses beside him.
She rolled her eyes.
Sumona strode up to the figure where Ali the Barman gave her an exasperated glance.
"Would you mind taking him off my hands, miss Sumona? I need to open and with all that alcohol and the day starting he could dehydrate himself out here." She just nodded, and hoisted him effortlessly onto her shoulder. She looked around for his rucksack, knowing what she would find. She rummaged through it and found two small tablets. She crushed them and the world shimmered, Ali the Barman's wave farewell fading.
She shook off dizziness as the world refocused, not used to the mortals' more crude teleports. She adjusted Thorkur's still body and looked around, having never been in Thorkur's home before.
She hadn't been in many homes at all, really.
The sounds of various chattering birds filtered around the garden she was in. In front of her was what she guessed was the foyer, featuring armchairs, bookcases and a fireplace. To her right was a somewhat lavishly decorated chapel, with what she knew was an altar to Guthix, complete with gildings and a stained glass piece filtering light from the east where the sun shown down. To her left she saw marble portals of various colors no doubt leading to every corner of the realm. Behind her and past the garden was every manner of small creature gathered around what appeared to be a miniature home. She raised an eyebrow at the oddity. She could (to herself) proudly admit that the sloth on her shoulder was almost a master of a skill that involved killing everything that moved, but yet was also fostering these younglings for some purpose she could not understand. She observed a haughty looking blue owl stiffly ruffle its feathers toward a fierce red hawk. The hawk screeched indignantly and flew towards the owl, where they flapped about in a scuffle like schoolyard children. Almost immediately a large green bird glided forwards and dragged the red hawk away, before turning to the owl and cawing at it. The owl tilted its head in shame while the hawk shuffled away. The green bird leapt back and continued to bear a withering gaze towards both other birds.
Sumona wondered why the sight wanted to make her laugh.
"Mew".
Sumona jumped, shivers going down her spine, making Thorkur groan on her shoulder. She ignored him. She looked down, where a large, grey cat gazed up at the two, before lazily yawing and nuzzling Thorkur's prone leg. She took a deep breath and began pointedly looking at a patch of unfamiliar red flowers, trying to control her shaking. She carefully thought to herself about how she supposed the color on the flowers was nice, that their petals were an elegant design, and that she definitely liked the thorns on their bush.
Then the bush began smoldering under her gaze, and she looked away, now trying to keep a lid on her destructive urges. She began wondering how she could get out of this, and how much she wanted to throw fireballs at Thorkur right now because how dare he put her in this situation and that this was all his fault just like it always was. She was thankfully spared from further insidious thoughts.
"Are you alright, miss?" Alathazdrar said from the foyer. Her eyes flashed towards him, her mind currently ignoring the fact that a demon dressed in a suit was in Thorkur's house, politely inquiring after her wellbeing.
"I don't… like… cats," she hissed. Without another word Alathazdrar picked up the cat, whispered that the master would be fine, and gently teleported it to some other part of the house. She immediately felt her rage regressing.
"Now then, if I may introduce myself, I am Alathazdrar," the demon bowed low before her, "I live to serve my current lord and master, who you hold so carefully on your shoulder." She bristled.
"I—he—this fool's just intoxicated." Alathazdrar nodded his horned head.
"Yes indeed, this has been happening rather often recently. The master's been a bit… distressed. He refuses to say why, but I suspect it primarily has to do with a lady friend of his."
She kept silent, her gaze steely. Alathazdrar seemed to be waiting for some sort of reaction from her, well, she had none to give him.
"Nonetheless, I thank you for helping him home. You must be Sumona, from your… traits, as my lord has described to me." She nodded, her gaze not shifting.
"Well then, if you could simply bring him up to an armchair, I will fetch something to rouse him. You may make yourself comfortable, I have ensured that Hopkins will not trouble you further during your stay." He teleported off. Sumona breathed easily, realizing that Hopkins must be that filthy cat. She sent a withering gaze at Thorkur, knowing he was still not awake, for abiding with her brother's dastardly creatures. Even so, she gently pulled him up the front steps and into a squashy armchair next to a bookcase and a low table. Deciding she'd wait for Alathazdrar to come wake him before throttling him, she stood and considered that the opposite room might be interesting.
Gilded writing at the head of the door labeled this room as the quest hall. Sumona looked around inside, and quickly recognized the glass display on the near wall with a ragged but stark white cape. It was the same cape that Thorkur had worn every day he'd come to her for an assignment, some years ago now. He'd been eager to follow her every destructive whim, and she'd eventually accepted that he simply would not die on any of her assignments, and she became… almost content to let things continue, though looking back she could not understand why. Later when he'd stopped asking for assignments from her he'd started wearing a variety of other capes. It would be a Fire Cape, a Skillcape, a Guthix Cape, or some peculiar ranging device. Only seeing this one labeled "Cape of Legends" did she realize the poignancy of such a familiar object, and how much she noticed it when it was gone. She turned away, noting that looking at it seemed distressing.
Next to the cape on the wall was a black, unshining sword. With a close look she recognized that it was imbibed with demon's blood. She idly wondered how Alathazdrar felt about that. Upon the far wall she felt her eyes drawn to the wide landscape of conifer trees and crystal spires. She inspected it interestedly, looking at the sweeping brushstrokes and merging colors. It was curious to her, it was just a material creation depicting a location, yet something about it felt appealing. She considered that she was hardly familiar with anything but rocks and sand, and found this green land almost inconceivable after thousands of years of solitude.
She went to the map in the centre of the room, and found it marked with various locales and scrawled notes. Thorkur clearly used this for research. She found herself drawn to the desert areas, and somewhat impudently thought they should be bigger than that. Sumona secretly wondered if she should visit other places. Over the years she'd at least learned to pass among the humans without causing trouble, though she also wondered why she wanted to.
On the final wall what she saw forced her to admit to her own emotions.
It was a painted image of Thorkur and a blonde woman. Thorkur was portrayed in sweeping dark robes and a twisted staff, but was well groomed, smiling, and wore a modest crown. His arm held the woman close to him. The woman was also smiling, with ease and confidence, clad in form-fitting leather gear. A bow was visible on her back. Sumona had never really encountered the concept of art, but acknowledged that whoever had painted this had done well. She was familiar with how Thorkur's eyes looked in the image, and therefore trusted the rest of the image to be accurate. The woman's grey eyes held a fierce determination; Sumona could see a depth to them that for a moment reminded her of herself. Stormy waves crested in the background against the bow of the ship they were standing on, completing the painting. She turned her eyes and suddenly realized what this room represented. She'd always thought that she'd known Thorkur well, that she was familiar with him, that he'd demonstrated all that could be found in mortal humans, but now she understood that she hardly knew anything about him. She'd never really known anyone as well as she did him, and had just assumed that was all there was to it, to anyone. She was immortal, thousands of years older than Thorkur. He, like all mortals, could only be so complicated, so worthwhile compared to that, but with this painting and this room she finally understood.
She'd been wrong, and hadn't known Thorkur at all. Maybe she hadn't ever known anyone at all.
And she ached inside.
"The mistress was a very inspiring woman." Alathazdrar had returned, and seemed to have sought her out before attending to Thorkur. She could no longer be startled by his presence.
"…I can see that in her eyes." Alathazdrar nodded in agreement.
"Yes, I observed that an inner strength had enabled her to perform glorious deeds, which she often talked of. Many of her aspirations went unfulfilled, however. I only met her a few times before her death in combat." He lowered his head in regret.
"So she died… who… was she, exactly?"
"Mistress Astrid was a princess of a barbarian kingdom, from which Thorkur also obtained his current name. At first he sought to marry her for more political reasons. But as he once described to me, 'she was wealthy, a snob, and otherwise arrogant in her status, completely unlikeable, but eventually I saw the pain in her eyes, and the strength of her soul, and vowed to do everything to make her smile one of truth and her inner strength manifest, and I grew to love her.'"
"So she was his… wife." Sumona stumbled over the term.
"Yes, although by then they only remained married for a short time before she and her brother were killed by beasts from the deep oceans."
Alathazdrar raised his head to look at her. Despite all her time spent in Pollnivneach, she still found herself more at ease among a demon than with humans.
"If I may miss, I would not recommend broaching the subject to the master. Though it has been a few years, it would still cause him grief."
Sumona found she had nothing to say to that. She may have wondered why she would deny an opportunity to cause Thorkur pain, but had no appeal towards the thought. She only felt a confusion she could not describe.
"In continuation, I have prepared a little… concoction to awaken the master," he held up a vial of some strong-smelling paste and a glass of water. She followed him back to the foyer, where Thorkur was snoring quietly.
A little later she was standing in the study with a smirk on her face as Thorkur eased himself into the desk while rubbing his head.
"It's not funny, you know."
"I don't know what you mean." In part, this was true. She hadn't felt much light amusement since a time she would rather forget.
"Well, whatever. Thanks for your help, I guess." She raised an eyebrow, something she'd observed from watching humans act in this manner.
"I was under the impression that consuming alcohol led to poor health among you."
"Yes. At worst, people can die from it." She paused as he allowed this to sink in for a moment, and then cut her off when she opened her mouth to object again.
"But I would have been fine. Ever since I became the World Guardian Death won't let me die permanently until such that I am no longer necessary. And if Death should somehow fail in doing this, which he would have during the recent incident with Sliske, your brother wouldn't allow it either."
She folded her arms and scowled at the wall at the interruption and the mention of Icthlarin.
"I met him. He was running ragged managing the Underworld while also taking souls for Death. He's a really nice guy you know, I think he could have used your help with that."
"Don't patronize me, Thorkur, if he keeps himself busy then I want no part of it," she grumbled at him. He just smiled good-naturedly.
"He asked me to help you. No, that's not quite right. He entreated me, nearly begged me. He still cares a lot for you, and not because he's been working both of your old roles."
"My brother is dead to me," she snarled.
Thorkur sighed.
"Well, I guess that reminds me. I haven't told you about that incident yet. I should, because it's important to you. It could mean your life."
"Really now?" Sumona dead-panned, "you're referring to the actions of a mahjarrat? I would relish the chance to wring his neck." Thorkur's face grimaced at her, which she found… displeasing.
"No, Sumona. Sliske is the one who killed Guthix."
She also found being cowed to be something she abhorred.
Following his explanation of Death's kidnapping Sumona's mood grew dark in a way she was not used to. She was not angry, she was not hateful.
Just… dark.
"This Sliske is not like the other mahjarrat. Death is powerful. The dragonkin are powerful. The gods are the most powerful. How could he possibly influence them?" Thorkur just sighed and downed Alathazdrar's glass of water.
"How does Sliske do any of the things he's done? Is he my enemy or is he my friend? Sliske is both powerful and cunning beyond imagining. I don't have a clue of how to deal with him." He simply shook his head and looked at her imploringly, like he had back with Wahisietel.
She did not like how that look made her feel.
"On one hand I can't possibly forgive him for killing Guthix. But in a way it was what Guthix wanted all along."
She did not have the answer he seemed to want.
"And the Stone of Jas. Somehow it always comes back to the Stone of Jas. I think the gods are about to clash over that Elder Artifact once again."
"What are those?" But after so much explaining on his hangover Thorkur seemed to have trouble continuing.
"The Stone of Jas, the Crown, the Staff, the Horn, the Kiln…"
He noticed she did not understand him.
"Ask me again later. And that diamond of yours might be related too, if you would tell me what it was."
It took her a moment to figure out what he was talking about. Finally she remembered the Kharid-ib that she'd stolen almost a decade ago, when she'd first been foiled by Thorkur. Things had been so much more eventful since then than she was used to, she hadn't recalled the incident much. Yet here he was, asking about it so easily, even though his eyes back then had looked upon her with both wonder and hatred.
"I—I still don't understand much about it. I just—felt like I wanted it. It seemed important." Sumona cursed being caught off guard in her admission.
"Like you'd been searching for it all your life, you said."
She did remember that. She slowly nodded, not knowing why she avoided his eyes.
"I have a suspicion about it that I developed after my more recent historical finds. The Elder Artifacts were a major influence on this research as well." He smiled at her.
"But I think I'll tell you about that some other time, after I've investigated my suspicions."
How he aggravated her.
"Well Sumona… I think I should get back to slaying. That's productive, right?"
Now he was learning to manipulate her. Somehow, the reversal was fascinating. He stood up and she went with him back out into the garden. As she glanced at the rosebush she was inwardly pleased to see that it had not been damaged by her assault. They left through the portal to the outside and she felt a chill different from the desert nights. She found it invigorating as she glanced at the walled settlement nearby and the conifer trees like the ones in the painting. Thorkur turned to her.
"It was nice to have you here. I used to hold all sorts of parties with other adventurers, but it's been a long time since then. No one has been a guest in my house for years, when I turned my focus inward." As he walked close to her, her attention was diverted towards him.
"I want to thank you for helping me, and I've decided that being somewhat immortal is no reason to lay waste to myself. I need to be strong." For once, her eyes went to his.
"Of… course, Thorkur," her voice suddenly felt soft. He paused without looking away from her.
"I've known you for a long time now, at least for me. I've lost a lot of people since then. I met my wife and lost her to monsters. Many of my friends have died. My closest friend may have left me for good. The god I believed in more than anything was killed. And now the gods and maybe even mortals will attempt to kill each other over the Stone of Jas."
The reality of the situation was finally dawning on her as she realized how much she'd depended on the Edicts of Guthix.
"You could be targeted too, Sumona. Any of them could do it, if you're not careful."
Yes, she was beginning to understand. She didn't notice Thorkur walk towards her more.
"I want you to understand, Sumona. Things have changed. With my abilities as World Guardian, you won't be able to attack me like you used to. I could probably even kill you myself."
She knew he was right as fear she'd barely remembered suddenly ran through her.
"But I won't, and not just because I promised Icthlarin I would help you. In truth, I agreed with him a long time ago. I want to help you."
She knew his eyes, and knew he wasn't lying to her. She now noticed his proximity, and her breath hitched like it had never done in her life.
"You're important to me now, and I don't want to lose you too."
Sumona felt something stir inside her, something she'd thought she'd lost that day in Freneskae. Her entire body ached with no pain. Her physical heart began to pound in some unknown fear.
Then Thorkur slowly ghosted his hand over her cheek. Her red eyes were wide as they continued to stare into his green ones. Her body was trembling. She did not know what was happening to her.
"You know, Ozan was right back then. You're beautiful… Amascut."
Her name.
He'd said her name.
He chastely brought his lips to hers and her mind left her. Her eyes eased shut and she stopped shaking, instead feeling light and floaty. The moment was short, but passed to her longer than the eternity of which she'd lived. During that time, she felt expunged of all her ill will. She felt free.
Then she snapped out of it and tried to blast Thorkur with fire exploding from her hands. As he'd told her, nothing happened to him, but he backed away, looking guarded and confused, but Amascut didn't much register it. She crouched down, eyes shining and canines bared, panting. Her soul was ablaze, the anima in her body running wild. It was like she was fracturing inside to reveal something concealed within.
Amascut was afraid of that something. She was afraid of what was happening to her. She was afraid of power that she could not control.
Everything inside her that she'd buried deep was bursting forth, unchained from her being.
She could not bear the storm inside her, and vanished to safety, to the barren land of her past, to home, where her soothing mother could quiet her.
Thorkur watched the blackened spot she'd left on, wishing to chase her, to help her. But a storm began inside him as well.
"Sarah… what am I doing? What are any of us doing?" he said to the sapphire sky.
He sat ruminating on edge for several minutes, remembering Sarah's note and her distraught mother.
He knew she hadn't left him like it seemed. That thought was just to redirect him from his real fear, that in her half-baked plan she'd run headlong into danger and die somewhere far away from home. Thinking she'd left him was a lie, meant to distract him.
But Amascut was no distraction.
She'd always captivated him, and ever since he'd understood her past he'd wanted to save her. He just didn't know if falling for her was the solution, but from what had just happened, maybe it was.
Between Sarah and Amascut, his own storm of fear and confusion was rending him apart.
It was an opportune moment for Wahisietel to appear and greet him.
"You seem unbalanced, Thorkur, and I feel some strange energy. Has something happened?" he said sharply. Something else seemed to have him on edge as well.
"No… don't worry about it. If you're here to see me, something important must be going on." Thorkur tried to clear his head as Wahisietel cleared his throat.
"Indeed. The lord Zaros shall return. He is requesting your presence and it alone."
A long pause.
"…Of course he is. Let me make some preparations. I have a feeling I'll need them. Where shall I be?"
"Azzanadra awaits you at the World Gate when you are ready. Sliske will be there as well." Now Thorkur knew just why Wahisietel was agitated. Wahisietel had absolute confidence in his lord, but Sliske had proven on more than one occasion that he could throw a wrench into the god's plans.
Thorkur quieted his mind.
"Very well. I'm on my way."
"You have questions."
"Yes. Who you are. What you want. Everything, I need to know.
"Then I shall do my best to answer your questions, and vow to hide nothing I am comfortable discussing."
Zaros raised himself high to aid his presentation.
Thorkur did not know how day and night worked on Freneskae, but by the time he'd nearly run out of questions it would surely be time for an evening drink back home. Zaros seemed unconcerned with the passage of time. Indeed, time seemed as though it mattered little to him.
"You speak of things I've not heard from the other gods. Are you unique?"
"All beings are unique, but I understand your meaning." His tone held none, simply fact and explanation.
"There is one akin to I – the divine aspect of light energy."
"Who?"
"I shall not speak of it here, but I sense you have an inkling of whom I speak."
So it was Seren.
"What I will share is that all magic comes from elder gods, and that magic comes from anima – that which philosophers fancifully call a soul. The elder gods wield their magic to create anima generators – what we call worlds. The young gods' power is magic stolen from the elder gods. It is limited, fleeting. My power derives directly from anima."
That sounded familiar. Zaros continued unabated along Thorkur's train of thought.
"I believe Guthix discovered this link – which allowed him to gain the power he did. It was his knowledge of anima that enabled him to create his edicts… and to create you, World Guardian. With his death, the young gods' eyes have been opened to the divine. And their ignorance would see them tear this world's 'soul' asunder. This cannot be allowed to happen.
Thorkur felt a burden lift away from him. It seemed their goals could intersect.
"It's been very difficult to learn about you. Why were you so opposed?"
"Sometimes, simply being the largest target is enough to become vilified, but it is also because I sought unification. I wanted to bring all the young gods under my banner, but they would not recognize my divinity. I would have welcomed them all, but they were blinkered by their own narrow, dogmatic views, and so they rejected me. I did not start wars, I was just better at them… and through war I started to make progress."
"What about after Zamorak deposed you?" Zaros' image shifted, and two familiar figures appeared, one red and one blue.
"Zamorak feared retribution from those remnants of my empire who remained loyal to me. Saradomin sought my secrets. Whether to steal them or bury them, I cannot say. Ultimately, it is not important. The empire failed, and is no more. To build another would be folly. Mortals cannot by united by will or by force alone. Even if they could, doing so would take more time than we have."
"More time than we have? Before what?"
"Before the Great Revision
"Which is?"
"The death of this universe."
Well. There was always a bigger fish, wasn't there? Thorkur tried not to think too hard on this right now. Zaros seemed to know what he was saying, and Thorkur had a lot on his mind from their discussion already.
"I think I'll get back to you on that… I want to know what you think of Guthix."
Zaros shifted again in a purple flash, appearing as the young Guthix Thorkur saw in the visions of his young life and times.
"He was like a myth, spoken of in hushed tones by those of his followers who had not allied with other gods. I would very much have liked to have met him. We shared some ideals. We both value mortal life enough to step aside."
Thorkur knew this was all he'd needed.
"Though where he would leave them to their own devices, and their own failures, I would guide them subtly towards their true destinies. I would not impose my beliefs as other gods do, nor force them into worship of me. My aim is to be the voice that drives them to greatness. Not all would heed the call, but not all have to."
Again, Thorkur decided that this was a preferable view. There was just one doubt in the back of his mind, but he'd look into it separately. Zaros would probably agree as well, and Thorkur continued to ask.
"I note that you are a follower of Seren."
"She's even less prominent than you, but I developed a vested interest in her, especially after Guthix was killed. They were close." Zaros nodded.
"In fact, I am pleased that you would seek her guidance and protection, and in turn protect her. However, that is all I am willing to say about Seren."
Disappointment aside, Thorkur was reminded of a somewhat less relevant question he wanted to ask, but decided to sort through the rest of his curiosity first.
"You've shown an interest in the dragonkin. How do you see them?"
"They are an intriguing race, but we will need to deal with them if we are to rouse the elder gods."
"Do you know where they come from?"
"I suspect their home plane was destroyed soon after the elder gods first left Freneskae. A small number of dragonkin survived this revision by taking shelter in the Abyss, among the detritus of previous cycles."
"What are you saying? Revisions? Previous cycles?"
"This is a truth best revealed slowly. You will come to it in time."
Thorkur was beginning to feel overwhelmed, Zaros was right.
"I believe the surviving dragonkin sought out Jas for mercy, or retribution, only to end up bound to her Catalyst. For the elder god to hear the pleas of mortals will require someone to bridge the gap. Only a being of divine origin, such as I, has a hope of communicating with them."
"Why not the younger gods compared to you? Didn't you wish to rule over them as well?"
"I saw it as my divine right. The failure of my empire opened my eyes, however. Since then I have had much time to consider my failures. I was acting no better than Mah, attempting to control mortals. I see my role now being to lead mortals – the young gods included – towards uplifting themselves. And to work with those powerful few who have stepped beyond the need for guidance. I see this in you."
Thorkur once again looked into those eyes in which he himself saw the light fade into stone.
"Guthix saw this in you too, at the end, but his inaction has cost us dearly."
"Guthix's inaction?"
"Yes. Gielinor hides a truth the likes of which even Guthix was not aware. If he had known, he would have done more than sleep. Freneskae holds the clues; you have seen this with your own eyes.
"You're referring to the Elder Halls?"
"I am. They exist only within 'perfect' worlds: Freneskae and Gielinor."
"What exactly are they?"
"A simpler term for them would be 'nests'."
"I see. How do you see yourself?"
"I do not understand the question."
At any other time, Thorkur would have been amused.
"Some see you as controlling, others as evil, and yet your loyal followers are in awe of you. Did you not say yourself that you were the divine aspect of dark energy?"
"Do not confuse darkness and light with evil and good. Real life does not deal in absolutes, not extremes. All life falls on a spectrum, and all life has capacity for both good and evil. Judge me only my actions and my words, not by the words of others. I have made mistakes… but I do what I do because it must be done, and because there is no other who would. No other that could."
"Then I only have one more set of questions for you. What are your goals?"
"Thanks to you, I have obtained a new body and returned to Gielinor. I am returned to full strength, and shall resume the pursuit of my ultimate ambition."
"Which is to become an elder god?"
"Yes. I am a being of divine creation – it is my birthright. But more than that, I cannot achieve my wider aims until I transcend."
"You wish to control all mortals?"
"Not control, and not all. Not even the elder gods are all-knowing or all-seeing. I merely wish to encourage certain individuals to reach their full potential. Individuals such as yourself."
"What do you get out of doing this?"
"I believe that the elder gods' time is done, that they have failed. A new world order is required. Conscious life was not the intention of the elder gods, but it is their creation nonetheless. Yet they are blind to it, and would consign it all to the Abyss without a second thought. If I were an elder god, they would have to listen to me, and I could show them their error. As to why I do this, mortal life fascinates me. It has such potential for growth; it is both fragile and resilient; and it reacts quickly to change. The current elder gods are stagnant and slow, and too fragile – Mah is proof enough of this."
"Then, what is your plan?"
Zaros seemed to draw up into himself.
"I intend to wake the elder gods. I will speak for all mortals, and the elder gods will listen."
"And you think you have that right?"
"If not me, than who?"
"Who indeed? Where are the elder gods?"
"They are where they have always been since the creation of Gielinor. On Gielinor."
Thorkur's body felt like lead.
"What are your plans for me?"
"I hope to call on you. There is much to be done if we are to succeed. I will not ask anything of you that compromises you, or conflicts with your status as World Guardian. Until then, do as you would always do. Choose your path. Follow whatever philosophy or god you desire."
"You don't want me to worship you?"
"I do not require your fealty, though I would welcome it should you wish to give it. I only require your support when you are called upon, for the benefit of all. All else matters naught in the face of the Great Revision."
Thorkur felt a great sense of closure. And purpose.
"I've heard all I need to."
"Indeed. Return to the memorium reader should you wish to speak to me again."
The image of Zaros faded, as did Thorkur's inhibitions.
He would need time to think. He knew that he must seek out information on the elder gods, to try and find them, to stop them.
He also knew that he must aid Seren, that she would balance out Zaros with her light, and the universe with him.
Maybe he also sought comfort from the one whom had known Guthix best.
Sarah and Amascut were far from his mind, but they would not remain so.
Thorkur would go on, but Will was tired.