Sorry this update took so long, but I've written several exams last month and was sick (naturally during my one week vacation, because when else?). I hope to return to my schedule of updating every two weeks, but I can't promise anything, since this semester I'm usually at university until 5 or 6pm.
Also, I did say that this was the story of Pitch's origin, so prepare yourself to say goodbye to Kozmotis Pitchiner.
Chapter VII
At first she was speechless, her reply coming after and seemingly endless break of utter silence. "You…you know I'm human?"
His eyes were open by now, and he saw that the long feathers on the back of her head were standing up horizontally; she looked tense. "Your thoughts feel human, and I use my abilities to enter people's dreams in order to help them overcome their night terrors; shadows that plague their minds."
Now her feathers were standing straight up. "Shadows!" He could feel rage boiling in her mind, and for a moment he wanted to fully enter her mind and find out what caused this response, but Chrysos restrained himself. "Are you talking about Fearlings; shadows like living smoke, in humanoid shapes, and piercing white eyes, slaughtering their victims with claw and blade?"
Chrysos was ever so slightly confused. While her description was accurate, the shadows he'd met certainly weren't deadly. "I haven't heard the term Fearlings yet, but the way you describe them, I'd say were talking about the same creatures. How do you know about them? Can you enter people's minds as well?"
The feathers lowered, and her gaze turned to the ground. "No." Her mental barriers went up, and Chrysos was almost pushed out.
"Then how?" He asked quickly, struggling to keep the connection up. "Are you Atlantian?" He remembered the shadow within a girl's mind, how it had spoken of Atlantians fighting and imprisoning their ilk; if she knew them so well, it was a reasonable assumption she came from the legendary nation beyond the sea.
Her golden eyes fixed on his. "Did you read that in my mind?"
"No, no; a shadow I defeated mentioned your people." The priest explained hastily. "It said you were their kind's nemesis, facing them in battle, and some sort of prison you confined them in." With sudden force he was being pushed out of her mind. Had he said something wrong? The hawk spread her wings and gave a loud screech. For some time she stared directly into his eyes, Chrysos not daring to reach out again. The last thing he'd felt from her, before being forced out, was hurt and sorrow. Somewhat timidly he wrote on the tablet again, which had almost slipped his grasp. Apologies, if I have offended you in any way. Slowly she lowered her wings again, and shook her head twice. May I reconnect? A nod.
"So, you've only seen them in the minds of others?" She asked when he was back in her mind again.
"Yes, in children's minds, bringing them dread and terror in their sleep; the shadows said they were feeding on the fear they inspire."
The golden eyes narrowed. "Those children are fortunate, compared to what Atlantians have to endure."
"May I ask what it transpiring across the sea?" Chrysos asked carefully. "Unless of course, you do not wish to talk about it."
She didn't reply straight away, regarding him for a few moments. "My name is Aemilia; Aemilia Ionna Pitchiner, and as you have correctly guessed I'm of Atlantis." She began, and the priest sat down in anticipation of a long, but hopefully illustrative story. "Shortly before my birth, the Atlantian fleet, also known as the Golden Fleet, encountered black ships at the edge of our realm. At first they seemed abandoned, but it was an ambush of living shadows, appearing in humanoid shapes. They slaughtered many, among them the High General at that time, who'd let the fleet. It was obvious that this enemy had to be confronted and dealt with, and since they could not be killed, a prison was built on an isolated island and reinforced by powerful spells; every single shadow was to be imprisoned there, a task that to my knowledge has not been completed yet." Chrysos could feel her bitterness at those words. "We have found many names for them: Dream Pirates, Fearlings and Nightmare Men. It was not known where they were coming from, and they devastated towns and hamlets not only in our realm, but the continent as well, haunting the coastlines. Many were captured and imprisoned, yet the war raged on. One day, a small island close to the Atlantian continent, the largest and central island of the kingdom, was under attack…" Suddenly she stopped.
For some reason Chrysos felt like crying, before he noticed that it was caused not by his, but her emotions. He rubbed his eyes. "What happened?" Chrysos almost didn't dare to ask.
"I have not told you this yet, but the man appointed to lead the Golden Fleet in this conflict was my father; Kozmotis Pitchiner." Her sadness was now underlined with anger. "He set sail to face the Dream Pirates, and on the very next day, a black ship arrived at our home. I was out, sailing on my own at the time, but upon my return I saw the ship and smoke rising from the villa. I stopped not too far away, uncertain of what I should do, when…when I saw her." Once more the hawk cried out, startling Chrysos , who almost broke off the connection. "My mother,…she jumped off a balcony into the bay below, into raging waves and upon the rocks. I…I watched as she fell, a shadow just behind her. All I could think of was to escape, reach a village along the coast." She paused, and Chrysos saw her taking a deep breath before continuing. "The Atlantian realm however has countless currents, and I was pulled out to the open sea. For several days I was carried by the waves, before I stranded on another island. It was home to a wizard, who had been exiled from Atlantis, and he told me I could not leave the island, since the currents only led to the island, but not away, which was why no one dared to sail close to it. He agreed to teach me, so I would one day be able to turn myself into an animal and escape the island on my own."
"Is that why you are a hawk?" He knew countless stories in which the gods would turn mortals into animals, usually as a punishment, but someone doing so out of their own volition? The thought was intriguing.
"Not exactly; otherwise I wouldn't be here, now would I?"
She had a point. "I suppose not."
"I trained for years, only wishing I could one day return home…but then something happened, I did something horrible and in the ensuing argument with my mentor." There was another pause, in which her claws cut once more deeply into the branch on which she sat, and when she continued, deep regret filled her thoughts. "I hurt him and as punishment, he turned me into a hawk, sending me away in a violent storm. I drifted for days, unable to cast magic of my own, or the knowledge to turn back into a human, until I reached to continent a few months ago, just as winter arrived. Ever since, I've been travelling east, though admittedly I feel lost."
Never before had Chrysos listened to a story like this: Murderous shadows, magic and tragedy; it sounded more like the part of an epic, than a true event. "Why didn't you return to Atlantis? Couldn't have one of your famed wizards turned you back?"
"My exiled mentor was sadly the only one knowing how to turn a human into an animal, as this kind of magic has been banished by the sages' guild. Unless some deity takes pity on me, I will remain a hawk for the rest of my life."
How could her mentor do this to her? What deed could she have done to deserve such punishment? For now it didn't seem wise to investigate, her emotion being already in such turmoil. Maybe she would be willing to answer him another question. "I can sense that it is a delicate issue, but what about your father? You said he went to face the shadows, but have you ever learned what has happened to him?"
"There has not been a word, or a sign of life, since I said goodbye to him at the docks. I do not even know if he is still alive." Aemilia told him bitterly. "But if he is, I doubt he still cares for me; otherwise we would have been reunited long ago."
"Does he know that you're still alive?" He asked further, sensing her surprise at the question.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you've told be the shadows attacked your home and likely killed everyone. Your mother even threw herself into the ocean, so how would your father know that you've survived?"
This didn't appear to be something she'd considered. Blankly Aemilia stared at him. "I…I never thought…I need a few minutes to think."
Chrysos took this as his cue to leave, and severed the connection to her mind. He was excited; not only was she a real Atlantian, but a sorceress, the only other magic user beside him he knew of, turned into an animal. That aside; she needed help. Her story had touched him, and he could sense her pain, even a need for revenge, though it was rather well subdued. If there was any way to help her, he would assist her with any means possible, after all, she'd just saved him, and perhaps he was the only one still capable of communicating with her. If he didn't help her, who would? For now maybe it would be enough for her to have company, to be reminded she was human and not alone. Frankly, Chrysos wasn't sure how he could help her, but for him to find out a way, they needed to stay together.
After a couple of minutes spent in silence, giving her plenty of time to gather her thoughts, he somewhat timidly reestablished the connection. "Why don't you stay with me?" Chrysos suggested hopefully. "You must consider that I just might be the only person who can still talk to you."
He was sure that if she still had lips, she would have pulled a face at his last remark. "True enough." She eventually admitted.
"And I will continue to fight the shadows, and perhaps I could even take you with me, have you join me when I face them."
The sharp claws almost cut through the branch now; there was something, almost vicious in her golden eyes, as if a fire was burning behind them. "All things considered…I'd like to go with you."
He knew this coast well; it was just north-west of his home, down the hill on which it stood. Almost seamlessly the grass gave way to the sand here, and his feet sank into the soft ground with each step. Calmly the waves washed over the coastline, while the wind blew softly and warm, the sun's burning heat blocked by white clouds, travelling across the sky. It was such a pleasant day that Kozmotis didn't even wonder why, or how he'd come here. He was dressed in civilian clothes, the usual black pants, boots, as well as a white shirt over which he wore an open, green and sleeveless coat. He carried no weapon with him; he was on Atlantis after all. There was no saver place on this world.
Kozmotis couldn't tell how long he'd wandered along the coastline, when he spotted a figure sitting on the sand, the waves stopping just before reaching the feet. It was a woman in a white dress, her hair dark brown and wavy with white and yellow blossoms in it, hiding her face from sight. Regardless, Kozmotis recognized her instantly. He approached her cautiously, and kneeled down next to her. Slowly he reached out with his hand, his fingers running through her soft hair, before they gently framed her face, turning it carefully, so she would look at him. She was pale, her eyes reddened by tears, and he just wanted to pull her into his arms. "Amina, what are you doing here?" He asked her softly, concern lingering in his words.
His wife placed her hands upon his, closing her eyes, tears running from them down her face. "Where else would I be?" She asked quietly in return.
This time he was very much aware that all this wasn't real. After all, Amina was wearing the attire of her funeral; even the blossoms were the same. "It was not supposed to be like this." He told her. "Neither of us should be here; we should be at home, together and with our daughter." Kozmotis pulled her closer into an embrace, and she returned it without hesitation, snuggling against him, as if both were afraid the other one would disappear. "You shouldn't be only in my dreams, or my memories."
"That cannot be changed, my love. I fought, I did want I could, but they were simply too many; we were overrun." Her fingers clenched his clothing tightly, and a sob escaped her lips. "I had to do something. I…I didn't know what else to do. "
Kozmotis detached himself from her, ending the embrace, looking at her insistently. "Why our daughter?" His hold on her arms got tighter. "Amina, why our daughter?!"
"I thought…I thought I had no choice." She admitted tearfully. "They were coming for us, and we were left alone. You know how they are in battle, you've told me what they could do, possessing people, torturing them; I couldn't let that happen to us, not to Emily. Divines know what they would have done to us." Her eyes went up to meet his. "Where were you? You have saved so many throughout this war, but you didn't come for your own family?"
"You know that is not true; I did come, I returned as fast as I possibly could." Kozmotis insisted. "I came too late, there is no denying it, but I have never abandoned you. What I did was all I could, and it was not enough." His gaze lowered his words now little more than a whisper. "I've failed you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Amina"
One of her hands was being placed on his cheek. "I know you are, and for what it's worth, so am I." The other hand now covered her mouth, muffling a soundly sob, a new tear running from her eyes, and she turned her gaze to the ocean. "Forgive me, Emily."
Kozmotis, alarmed by her words, followed her example and searched the waters. For just a second there, his heart seemed to stop beating, when he saw a small body, floating on the waves. He let go of his wife, and dashed into the cool water, deeper and deeper, Amina sobbing behind him. Divines, don't let it be her, not his daughter. Already he could feel his own tears emerging in his eyes, his hand reaching out for her. Taking her by the arm, Kozmotis pulled her to him, until he could hold her in his. Her skin was pale, almost as white as her dress, and strains of her black hair covered her face; Aemilia looked almost as if she was only sleeping. Frantically he wiped the stains away, calling her name, but to not effect. His daughter remained still, limb in his arms. Kozmotis pressed her against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. No, not like this. "It wasn't supposed to be this way." He whispered to her, though his words fell on deaf ears.
Slowly he turned around and walked back to the island, this time with the waves at his back, pushing him forward. Amina was now lying there on the beach, unmoving, the water washing around her body. Once he'd reached her, Kozmotis collapsed to his knees, with one hand holding his daughter, with the other picking up his wife.
For some time he simply cowered there at the beach, Aemilia cradled in his left arm, holding Amina's lifeless body close to him in his right. He pressed them both against his chest, silent tears running across his face. Was this all that was left of them; memories and guilt? With reddened eyes he looked up to the sky. Mankind believed in countless gods, goddesses and spirits, but none had helped them, not Amina, not their innocent daughter, or the majority people who had lived and worked at the mansion. Not the countless people who had died and suffered throughout this war. Kozmotis had never been someone, who prayed or worship, believing he should be measured by his deeds, by the way he treated others alone, now however his trust in the divines had all but vanished. He cursed them and himself, letting his pain roam free, where no one could hear his cries.
…
Suddenly Kozmotis found himself sitting upright in his bed on Umbra, the cool sweat streaming down his body. Heavily panting, he ran his hands first over his face, and then through his hair, feeling himself trembling. A nightmare, another bloody nightmare. He'd endured countless, but had never gotten used to them. Fingertips digging into his forehead, Kozmotis calmed his breathing, while his eyes were closed, half-forgotten images flashing before them. Only slowly his pulse eased and he relaxed, lowering his arms to rest them on his upstanding knees. It was then he noticed that it was already morning, the first rays of the sun shining through the window to his left.
The supply ship was due today. Depending on the winds, it should arrive this noon, or within the next two days. After years, Kozmotis could estimate their arrival quite well, never being far off; it had been quite the essential skill, back when he'd been High General, coordinating an entire fleet that had been patrolling across the Atlantian realm.
As there was no point in going back to sleep, Kozmotis got out of bed and prepared himself, his nightmare soon, and thankfully, forgotten.
…
In the late afternoon the supply ship arrived, and to Kozmotis' delight Lykos himself was commanding it. The two men embraced like the brothers they saw themselves as, after many years apart, while the crew got to work. Lykos hadn't changed a bit, though his beard seemed to have grown a little.
"It is truly good to see you again, Lykos." Kozmotis welcomed him.
"You look tired, old friend." The other man noted, a frown on his face.
Weakly the former General smiled. "I must be when you're calling me 'old'." If he could still count, Kozmotis was certain he was just in his thirties. "And I admit sleep has eluded me previous night."
"Prisoners giving you trouble?" Lykos asked concerned.
Pitchiner, though truth be told he couldn't rule out their involvement in the latest nightmare, dissented. "No more than usual; it seems Hypnos has merely skipped the island this one time."
It didn't seem to completely convince his friend, and Lykos regarded him thoughtfully, before he slowly nodded. "If you say so." He didn't ask any further question about the subject, for which Kozmotis was grateful, and the smile returned to his face, as they began to walk the path, which led up the mountain to the prison. "I trust you have received my messages?"
"I did, and I'm sorry I couldn't be there for the wedding."
Lykos placed a hand on Kozmotis' shoulder as he shook his head. "Nonsense, you had your duties here, and I respect that as you know. Wouldn't have done it myself, but I understand why you do it." Following a brief pause, he continued. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you in person the latest news; we've been blessed with a son."
Pushing away and ignoring painful memories, also a surprising touch of jealousy, Kozmotis put on his broadest smile he could. "Lykos that is wonderful." He was indeed very happy for his friend, and this was certainly the best news he'd received in years, aside from the wedding itself.
"We've named him Nereus, after my grandfather; this summer will be his first birthday." He fell silent when they reached the plateau. "It has been a while, since last I set eyes upon this place. If you ask me, it still looks like a tomb."
"In a sense it is a final resting place." Kozmotis admitted.
"For the shadows, right?"
There was a half-hearted chuckle. "I have no plans of dying here, my friend. I won't stay here indefinitely, only a while longer."
Once more Lykos nodded unconvinced, but resisted from starting an argument; this was their first meeting in years, it shouldn't end in a fight. The two men had entered the mountain, and immediately, Lykos felt somewhat colder, as if a cold breeze was going through the room. Right in front of them the door with the dimly glowing pentagram hummed peacefully, almost inaudible.
"One breath of fresh air, please." Dark voices hissed meekly; Lykos had been close to forgetting what they sound like, but his memory was suddenly being refreshed. "One small breeze."
Lykos shivered noticeably at the sound. "The shadows?"
"Once more complaining as usual; pay no heed to their rambling." His friend told him.
"And you've been listening to that for years?" Lykos was certain he would have gone insane after a while.
"That and a few other things." Kozmotis explained, shrugging indifferently. "You learn to ignore them, which is rather easy, since it's always the same pleas and threats. They're not terribly original; they would have to be spoon-fed any new idea. Besides, wandering around the island and training outside keeps their voices and the annoyance to a minimum." At least while I'm awake, he thought bitterly.
Lykos looked at him gravely. "Kozmotis, I am more and more convinced that you're punishing yourself."
"Perhaps there is some truth to that."
…
Truth be told, Kozmotis was glad they left the following day, once the sun emerged at the horizon; the haunting voices, the sleepless nights and the nightmares wore him down. Now he felt like he'd used all his strength to keep the illusion that all was well. Just a bit longer. He would hold on a little longer, as long as he could, and only then would he entrust this duty to someone else, but as long as he was here, nobody else had to endure the Fearlings. And there were promises to be kept. Was that not reason enough to stay?
This time it had been more difficult than usual, unsurprising since he had to take another into the child's mind. They had barely stepped in, and already Chrysos felt exhausted, a hand firmly placed upon the high wall next to him for support. He found himself in an alleyway, slim and dark, vines crawling over the stone at all sides. It took him a few seconds to notice the person standing next to him. She was a very young woman, a couple of years younger than him, but almost an adult, with a lovely face framed by long, black hair, her eyes gold-brown as those of the hawk. Her long dress however was of a soft green. "Aemilia?" Chrysos asked carefully.
Up until now, the young woman had been busy studying her appearance and his words seemed to have torn her from a state of trance. She first looked at him, somewhat confused, and then nodded. "Yes,…sorry, it has just been some time since I've been in a human form; strange how unfamiliar it has become in only a few months."
"You're okay?"
"I'll be fine." She assured him with a smile. "I need only a few moments to readjust, worry not."
For a few more moments he regarded her appearance curiously. They had been travelling together for a few weeks now, but this was the first time he saw what Aemilia truly looked like. "So, this is how you normally look."
She nodded. "Yes, though to be honest I haven't worn a green dress like this since I was a child."
"The shape we take in a mind is always our own mental reflection of ourselves; does the color hold a special significance to you?"
Her lips formed a sad smile. "It is the color of both my parents' houses, and whenever I cast a magic, there is some kind of green light; even the flames I summon are green."
"Really?" Never had he seen magic being cast, aside from his own manipulation of dreams.
"Yes; every wizard or sorceress has his or her individual color. My tutor had a dark blue shade, while one of our Archmages possessed a light blue one." The young woman explained. "Now, shouldn't we be finding the Fearling?"
It had almost slipped Chrysos' mind. "Yes, yes of course. We best find the tree."
She frowned confused. "The tree?"
"There is always a tree." He began to explain. "I think it is a representation of the mind's condition, and the child could always be found at its roots; one time it was rather difficult to locate it, when I found myself in a forest, not a town like this."
"Perhaps we ought to climb onto one of these buildings." Aemilia suggested, looking up along the wall next to her, a hand placed upon the grey stone, fingertips running over a dark green ivy-leave. "We are sure to get a better view from a rooftop."
"I don't think that will be necessary." His eyes had wandered to another roof, where he looked upon a dark specter, humanoid in appearance, the blank white eyes watching them vigilantly.
Alerted by Chrysos' words, Aemilia had turned around, immediately spotting their enemy. "Fearling!" Her snarl made the priest back off a little, the dress' hem moving violently, and rustling like leaves in a storm, her hands clenched to fists.
"Two? There are two of them now?" The shadowy creature hissed, clearly confused, its claws nervously scratching the stone beneath it.
Aemilia ignored its question. "You'll pay for what your ilk has done." Realizing the potential danger, the shadow swiftly fled. "Come back here!"
"Aemilia, wait!" But she had already gone after the dark creatures, jumping up the building with a single leap, landing deftly on the roof, before the sorceress disappeared in a blink of an eye. How had she done that? He was about to follow her, as best as he could, when something hit him from behind. Dust and sand fell from above, some into his eyes, the scratching of stone upon stone echoed in the alley, and to his horror it was getting thinner, the walls closing in on one another. For not the first time, Chrysos wondered what would happen if he died in a dream, as he fought against the stone wall with all strength.
…
Meanwhile Emily was in pursuit above the roofs. Flying had become second nature to her, and so, given the lack of nature's law, she easily jumped from rooftop to rooftop, as if she was gliding. Indeed, from the back of her dress, two wing-like structures had grown, looking somewhat reminiscent of green hawk-wings. The Fearling flew with snake-like movements from crooked rooftop to crooked rooftop, and while Emily kept up, she didn't appear to be closing in. The young sorceress paid little attention to the town around her, barely registering how it continued on for miles, no ending in sight in any direction. The buildings themselves were all in different shades of grey, plants overgrowing them to various degrees, and the streets were empty like the grey, cloudless sky above. There was no sun either, but still there was light, dim like on a very cloudy day; this entire place had something very unnatural about it.
Emily followed the Fearling for quite a while, up a hill to a great temple, towering over the endless town. It disappeared through the open portals into the dark interior. She didn't immediately follow it inside, instead, Emily landed at the top of the stairs, just in front of the portals, between the massive columns. Cautiously she stepped into the hall.
It was, abandoned like the rest of the town, the statue across the hall damaged so that it was impossible to tell what deity it had once represented. It must have been a magnificent sight once; even now it almost reached up to the ceiling. Due to the very small windows, most of the dim light was coming in through the open portals, through which Emily was entering the building, still it remained gloomy. The Fearling had ample opportunities to hide and ambush her, especially with the dozens of pillars, lining the way from the entry to the statue.
"Come out and face me!" She challenged the Fearling, her voice still brimming with anger, echoing in the hall.
"Such hatred." Came the voice from somewhere in the shadows. "Why do you hate us so much, we wonder."
Her fists clenched once more. "You killed people very dear to me."
"Atlantian then? We killed many in past years, before they captured us, before he led them to the lightless mountain."
"He?" It could only be talking about him, and Emily felt some of her anger fading.
Finally the shadow appeared to her right. Like a snake the Fearling had encircled one of the marble columns with its lower body, as it looked down at her from above. "The General, the High General of Atlantis. After we destroyed his home, slaughtered his family, he found the lightless mountain." His family? Did the shadows believe she had died as well? "He and the wizards entrapped all in the mountain, brought them to the prison, all but the few who had taken to the mainland. A mere handful of us now remains free. We curse him, we curse Atlantis. Fear would be ruling the heart of every human, had they not stood in our way."
For a moment her curiosity had beaten her anger utterly; she needed to find out more, she needed to know what had happened to her father. "Does the General still live?" She asked anxiously.
The claws cut deep into the marble, leaving deep lines in the bright-grey stone. "None of us killed him; we would know had one of us succeeded." The first news of her father in years, and she took a deep breath in relief. "Why do you care about him, girl?"
"That is none of your business." Emily snapped harshly.
"Have it your way." The Fearling hissed in response. "You say we have killed those close to you? Then allow us to reunite you with them."
Perhaps it was the absence of Chrysos, or the hint of fear for her father that made the shadow so confident all of the sudden, when it launched itself at Emily with terrifying speed. A grave mistake to say the least. Emily was not afraid of it, and the priest had told her how to defeat the shadows within a mind. She swiftly sidestepped, dodging the attack, and grabbed the thin Fearling around the narrow waist. Finally realizing its mistake, the shadow tried to slash her with it sharp claws, but she caught it by the wrist with her other hand. "No longer will you harm anyone." She whispered coldly, and the Fearling struggled as it turned into golden mist in her hands, fading into the air. "This is for my family."
…
You're in a dream, Chrysos, the young priest told himself, his eyes closed, trying to keep the walls apart with his all his strength, arms and back pressed up against one, a leg against the other. It was getting tight, with less than a meter space in-between. This is merely an illusion; nothing can hurt you, unless you believe it can. He took in a few calm breaths, and when he opened his eyes, the alley had returned to normal, the walls were once more where they should be, making Chrysos sighed with relief, and lower his arms, returning his one foot to the ground. He was inside a mind after all, which meant normal rules didn't apply here. Of course, why had he not realized this earlier? It also explained how Aemilia had been able to reach a rooftop with such ease; being so used to flying she likely hadn't even considered that she should have the restrictions of a human body. For years he had entered the minds of other, how come he only realized this now? So in theory, he should be able to do nearly everything he could imagine.
Putting this to the test, Chrysos closed his eyes once more, and focused. He needed to follow Aemilia, and the fastest way would be flying like she and the shadow had, therefor avoiding the labyrinth of streets. Only seconds later he could no longer feel the ground beneath his feet. He saw himself floating above the street, only a few centimeters at first, but with just a though he rose further into the air, and Chrysos couldn't help but laugh. He was actually flying, and it was not even his dream, where he had no control over his action. Slowly at first he flew above the rooftops, to gaze over the seemingly endless town. In his delight over this new ability the young priest did a looping, continuing to laugh happily, and alien sound to his ears. So this how he sounded laughing, who knew?
During his third looping he suddenly stopped, suddenly standing still upside down in midair. He should be looking for Aemilia, not goofing around. Maybe she needed his help, what is the shadow had done something to her. Chrysos turned his gaze everywhere, but there was no trace or indication as to where they'd run off. Growing more nervous by the second, he bit down on his lower lip, while he kept searching the area for any suspicious activity, or any activity at all.
It was a great relief when he spotted a green shape approaching him, gliding from roof to roof. With both arms he waved to make his location known, and with one hand, Aemilia waved back. They met midway over a particularly steep roof, and thankfully she appeared to be unharmed, as the landed on a roof decoration, which had once been an animal head.
"Are you alright? What happened to the shadow?"
A ghost of a smile showed on her lips. "The shadow is defeated; it was not even able to harm me. It was also weaker than the stories about them led me to believe, but it confirms what you have told me about them."
"Yes, their strength lessens with everyone I encounter." Chrysos noted thoughtfully. "There can't be many left; perhaps the task of defeating them is not as interminable as I once thought."
"It was also rather chatty." She continued.
"Result of its isolation, I suppose."
Her eyes were shimmering, which momentarily puzzled him. Was she about to cry? "It told me something about my father."
"What?" That was something he'd not expected; not the first thing today.
Undeniably, there was now a smile spread across her face. "It told me it was him who imprisoned them all, that none of them was able to kill him. Chrysos." Her excitement brought tears into her eyes. "Chrysos that means he's alive." To his utter surprise, she hugged him, pressing the none-existing air out of his lungs. "He still lives!"
The last supplies were being brought onboard on this warm spring morning, when Ombric Shalazar stood at the dock, accompanied by two of his colleagues. The former Archmage had already said goodbye to most of the guild, during the great dinner that had been held last evening in his honor. Today was finally the day of his departure from Atlantis.
"Divines watch over your travels, old friend." Trismegistus spoke, placing a hand on Ombric's shoulder. His friend had been critical of this endeavor at first, but soon seen its merits.
"I'll look forward to the day we meet again." The other wizard replied, returning the gesture before addressing the other mage. "Farewell to you as well, Tsar Badr Lunar; it was a pleasure teaching you."
Flattered the young man bowed. "You have been an excellent mentor, Lord Shalazar, and I trust you'll have much more to teach upon your return."
"Of that I have no doubt. Now then, my friends; I shouldn't keep the good captain waiting. I will try to send messages as often as I can." Ombric promised with a warm, reassuring smile, only partially hidden by his long, white beard. "I hope that at least some will reach you."
"Goodbye, Ombric."
"Goodbye, Trismegistus, Tsar Badr. Until we meet again."
…
Behind the ship, Atlantis grew smaller and smaller, and Ombric watched until it had completely disappeared from sight. He would be gone for years, years before he laid eyes on his home again, and the thought made him feel somewhat wistful. Was it not too early to be stricken by home sickness? He would certainly miss his friends and colleges dearly. No, he should think of what laid ahead, the world that waited to be explored. Divines knew what awaited him out there.
With a frown on his face, Chrysos watched as Aemilia ate her dinner. It was difficult to believe at times that there was a young woman inside of the hawk, which was currently chopping off pieces of raw meat from a bunny it had caught earlier, with its sharp beak. "Something wrong?" She asked him, when she caught him staring.
He usually kept the connection up between them, so they could always talk, which was especially useful during the day, when they were travelling and she flew ahead, sometimes out of view. "Nothing, I shouldn't be staring."
"Believe me; eating raw was something I too had to get used to. As you can no doubt imagine, cooking with these claws is rather impossible."
He chuckled and continued to eat his small supper, bread, cheese and an apple. "You know I have thought about this for a while, and I think we should go to Atlantis, to the guild." Chrysos suddenly said. "I can tell them about the situation, and if you remember the words your old mentor used, maybe the wizards can change you back one day, and then." A smile spread across his face. "Then we find your father."
She wasn't eating anymore, but her head remained lowered. "Are you sure about this?" Aemilia's voice was quiet inside his mind, as if she was shocked, or at the very least surprised by his proposal.
"Absolutely." He assured her confidently. "Look, I know it's going to be a long journey, it will take a few weeks before we even reach the coast, maybe months until we find a ship that will get us to Atlantis, but we should do it." Was it just him, or was he more excited about this idea than her?
"What if they can't, what if there is no chance for me to turn back?"
"You're afraid of that, aren't you?"
Her head snapped up, her golden eyes gazing at him intensely. "Of course I am. But as long as I don't know for certain, there is still hope."
Chrysos had the feeling that she was not only talking about her transformation, but her father as well; even if he was alive, had he simply not known of her survival or abandoned her? Or if the shadows hadn't killed him, had died by other means? "Nothing is going to change, in that case. You have to take that risk of finding out, of being disappointed, or you truly will remain like this forever."
"You're right." Aemilia admitted after a while. "I tried to forget Atlantis, to leave it behind. I was so convinced that my father had abandoned me…I never wanted to see him again, but since what you told me, and the Fearling a few days ago."
"You never fully believed he'd abandoned you." Chrysos deduced, not only from her words, but the emotions he was picking up through their connection.
"I'm not sure what happened when he returned to our home, or what exactly the Dream Pirates told him, though it is likely that they convinced him of my demise."
"Because of what the shadow has said?"
The hawk nodded, which was still a strange gesture, coming from a bird. "It said they had killed his family, not just his wife; if my father was told the same, he had little reason to presume me still alive."
For a few moments Chrysos waited, before he picked up the conversation again. "So, do know of a harbor, which is often visited by Atlantian ships?"
She had to think about this for a while. "Relatively close to the coast, but still within the western Mediterranean Sea are four islands, an archipelago used by my people as a trading outpost, to avoid raids or getting in-between wars on the mainland. If we can get there somehow it should be relatively easy to get onboard a ship that could bring us to Atlantis."
"That means we would have to travel south-west from here." Chrysos did have a handful of maps, though they were rather inaccurate.
Aemilia knew this as well. "It would be best if we head to the coastline first, and then follow it west. You will really do this for me?"
He blinked a few times confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Travelling to a faraway realm over dangerous seas, have the sages' guild find a way to turn me back, and search with me for my father. We only know each other for a few weeks."
"It doesn't matter how long I've known you." He explained to her with a reassuring smile. "I've left my home in order to assist people who needed my help, people only I could help, and you will have to admit that you definitely qualify. Besides, I thought that by now we're friends."
She stared at him blankly, as if he'd used some foreign word she'd never heard of; at least Chrysos assumed this was how a hawk stared blankly. "If I still had arms, I think I'd be hugging you right now."
This made him laugh, silently for any stranger, who would have come across them by chance, but loud and happily inside their heads. "Let us postpone it for when you're human again." He suggested, grinning.
"Gladly." She replied, chuckling herself a little, a sound that delighted and relieved him. "Chrysos, have you ever thought of searching your family?"
"Why would you ask that?"
"You've told me that you were given to the temple as a newborn child." Aemilia elaborated on her question. "Have you ever considered finding out, who your real parents are?"
"Not really, no." He admitted. "Of course as a child I wondered who they were, why they had abandoned me, but in the end I decided that it didn't matter. Eusebios raised me, gave me a home, and taught me everything I know. He was my father, regardless of who my real parents are."
"I understand." The hawk nodded quietly. "We'll start our journey tomorrow I presume."
"I don't see a reason to delay it."
He could sense the gratefulness in her thoughts. "Me neither. Thank you Chrysos, for all."
"You're welcome, Aemilia."
"Didn't you just say we were friends?" She recalled correctly. "Call me Emily."
…
Less than an hour later, Emily was asleep but the priest was still wide awake. Over the years since his departure from the temple he'd learned a few more tricks, one of them being how the manipulate people's dreams from the outside. He sat there in the darkness, leaned against the trunk of a tree, focusing his energy at his palms. In the cup they formed light began to gather, after rising as small drops from the surface of his skin, shining golden in the night like a miniature stars. Once he deemed the light strong enough he released it, and as golden mist, it traveled in fine lines from small the globe to the sleeping hawk on the nearby branch. The mist circled around her head like a halo, before it took shape. Chrysos watched, while it turned into two human shapes, enacting a long overdue reunion. How often in the past years had she dreamed about that very moment? He'd never dared to ask.
But the young priest wasn't done for tonight. He repeated the procedure, only this time gathering more energy, more light. Chrysos hadn't done anything like this ever before, not over that kind of distance, but it was worth a try. He knew his name, and hopefully that would be enough to get the dream on its right path. Whatever he was going to make of this dream, perhaps it would give her father some hope, a happy vision to indulge in for the time being.
The golden mist rose into the starlit sky, higher and higher over the tops of the trees, and then disappeared from his sight. Chrysos sighted and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Suddenly he felt very tired and quite exhausted. As he drifted into a peaceful sleep, the dream rushed through the night, shimmering dimly in the darkness, flying over forests, water and islands, straight to Umbra.
This coast was new to him that was the first thing Kozmotis noticed. The beach turned into a forest after only about two meters, and the sand on which he walked was not finely ground by the waves, but grit. He could hear the stones clunking with every step he took, shifting against each other. This place reminded him of the continent. Why did his dreams take him to the coastlines ever so often? After years in the company of Dream Pirates, Kozmotis had learned to recognize what was a dream, as to avoid manipulation by them. Still, something about this dream felt…unfamiliar, different.
For some time he wandered through the forest, keeping close to the beach. Birds were singing in the treetops, and the fresh, green leaves created countless shadows, as the sun shone warm and brightly above them. Then the forest opened up to a bay. It was small, and many trees reached over the slim grit-beach with their branches, the spring flowers, which were still blooming, falling from them into the water, where they floated on the waves.
Not too far away, on a fallen tree's trunk sat a young woman in a green dress, her long, black hair moving slightly in the wind to reveal her face. "Amina?" No, her face was similar to his wife's but a little longer, besides; the hair-color was wrong, and her eyes…her eyes were gold-brown like his own. "Emily." Years had passed since last he saw her, so naturally she would almost be an adult by now. Disbelieving what he saw, he simply stared at her, standing there at the tree line, watching the older version of his beloved daughter stroking an Atlantian hawk's golden and white shimmering feathers, as the bird sat on a branch next to her, clearly content. Suddenly its piercing eyes found Kozmotis, who hadn't moved a muscle since spotting Aemilia, and it shrieked once, alerting her to his presence.
Her head turned around, and her eyes widened once she saw him. For a moment both simply stared at each other, before she jumped of the tree, and ran towards him, barefoot through the grit, ignoring the painful sensation it no doubt caused. There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling, almost laughing, as she threw her arms around his neck. Kozmotis himself could only move in slow motion, too taken aback.
"Father." She cried happily.
"Aemi…Emily." He whispered back, embracing his daughter in return so very tightly. She was still a head shorter than him, despite having grown so much.
Suddenly she gave him a weak punch into the stomach, more surprising than hurting. "What took you so long?" That was his daughter all right. He looked at her, seeing her crying and smiling gratefully at the same time. "I've missed you. I thought maybe you'd died."
"And I was certain you had." Kozmotis began to explain, still holding her in his embrace. "The shadows, they told me you…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence; this was still a dream, what if speaking it out loud would end their reunion?
Aemilia shook her head. "You of all people should know that Dream Pirates are not to be trusted."
"True, but when I couldn't find you… where are we anyway?"
"The continent." She told him rather plainly, and straight forward. "A long story, one I will share with you another time." Kozmotis saw something he could only describe as great determination in her eyes. "I was thinking about when we finally meet in person."
He sighed heavily; this was nothing but a naïve and hopeful illusion his mind had conjured. How could this become reality? "How would we accomplish that?"
Aemilia winked mischievously, like she had as a child so many times. "Well, if you're not coming to me, I have no choice but to find you."
…
Oh, how sweet; still so attached to his family. Did this fool truly believe there was a chance his daughter remained alive after all this time? Humans were strange creatures, no doubt. The Dream Pirates had felt the dream, how it had come to the prison and entered their warden's mind. Who or what had sent it, they wondered, to what end? Many times since the former General had begun his watch had they infiltrated his dreams as best they could, a feat only possible due to their great number and combined strength. Damn those enchantments.
That night they had only watched, witnessed the happy reunion of father and daughter. It almost seemed that this man would do anything to see his daughter again. The combined mind of over ten thousand shadows had suddenly an idea. They had tried to manipulate him with the memories of his wife, but he'd been well aware that she had not been real…his little girl however. He'd never seen her dead body, or held it in his arms. They chuckled in the absolute darkness of their prison cell. Perhaps, just perhaps, she, thanks to that dream in particular, would be his undoing. Oh, why hadn't they thought of this years ago?
A few days had passed since the dream, but strangely enough Kozmotis hadn't forgotten about it like with other dreams; somehow this one stuck to his mind with every detail, and it raised questions. Could it be that his daughter was still alive? In all these years the thought had never crossed his mind; she had never been found, not in weeks of search and the Dream Pirates at the villa had told him…was it possible that they had lied? Possible yes, but to what end? And how had she escaped?
Kozmotis rubbed his temples with the fingers of one of his hands; he was not even awake for five minutes and already his mind was crowded with countless questions. He was a man in dire need of some breakfast, and so he went to the main-room. It promised to be a pleasant spring day, the sun shining warmly in a clear blue sky with only a few white clouds, travelling on the winds. He took the kettle to fill it with fresh water, when he heard the voices chuckle quietly behind the door. Kozmotis frowned, but otherwise paid no attention to it, and left the guardhouse in order to get to the well outside. A light breeze washed over his face, still carrying the coolness of winter. This time of year the trees in his garden would have grown numerous flowers, and the first early butterflies would circle around the branches in bright, dazzling colors. Emily had loved them.
What if she had survived? In his dream she'd been older, a few years short of being an adult but the age would fit if she yet lived. Perhaps it was but a fool's hope, after years alone on this island, with only the voices of Fearlings to keep him company, and an increasing number of nightmares each time he closed his eyes. Was it perhaps time he let others guard the prison; he was already considering that option for some time now. Certainly he wouldn't be able to hide his condition from the crews on the supply ships much longer, and then they would no doubt replace him, once they found out. What then? Go search once more for Aemilia? Even if there was truth to this dream, where to begin? The shore where they had met had not looked familiar, and she'd only told him that it had belonged to the continent, which not exactly narrowed things down. It would at least explain why they'd never found her, but it remained a question as to how she'd gotten there in the first place.
The first bucket of water went straight into his face, freezing cold, but quiet stimulatory. He needed to focus; it was wishful thinking, nothing more.
A few minutes later, he returned to the guardhouse, the kettle in his hand now filled with clear water, and more dripping down his slender chin and hair. He set down the kettle on the floor and got a fire starting. Soon it burned vividly, the wood cracking in the heat. Now to boil the water…Kozmotis held in when he heard something like a child's sob behind him. He shook his head once; he must be imagining things, he was the only human being on this island.
"Father."
Then the kettle slipped from his hand, hitting the stone floor with a loud clangor, which echoed through the room soundly, the water spilling everywhere around him. No, this voice…it couldn't be!
A few more sobs. "Father, where are you? It's so dark in here." Emily!
He could feel his heartbeat in his head, his eyes widened in horror and panic as he spun around. It was her voice, no mistake; he'd recognize it anywhere, even after all these years…and it came from behind the prison door. How was it possible?
"Please, help me." Aemilia cried. "You've promised."
In utter disbelieve Kozmotis stared at the door, paralyzed, hands trembling, his breathing fast and heavy. No, no, no…this was not true. And then he heard her screech, a screech of pain that made every muscle of his body flinch.
"NO!" In less than a second he was at the heavy marble door, a hand already on the great steel ring that served as the handgrip. "Emily!" He called for her, the other hand flat on the cool stone , upon the pentagram. "Emily can you hear me?!"
"Father, I'm scared, open the door! Don't let them hurt me!"
No, he wouldn't let them have his daughter; he would not lose her again! It didn't matter how she'd gotten in there, he had to get her out. Get her out, get her back to Atlantis…the supply ship was coming tomorrow; they would leave together!
"Father, please! Get me out…" There was another scream that tore at his heart.
"Fosgail!" He yelled with all he had, his hand still pressed upon the marble, cold sweat now running from his forehead. He ignored the pentagram, flaring up warningly, as the spell unlocked the door. With both hands on the ring now, he pulled at the heavy portal, one that had not been opened in years, and should not have been opened ever again. Dust and fine debris fell into his face, and he coughed, but didn't stop, her crying still ringing in his ears, even as the marble grazed soundly over the floor.
And then the door was open. He stood before the utter darkness, his daughter's cries still echoing from somewhere within. "Emily!" Kozmotis called breathlessly, and the cries stopped. For a moment there was utter silence, before…chuckles, dark and sinister, growing louder. Suddenly Kozmotis realized what he had done, and whatever color had still been in his face left. How could he have been so foolish?
A sudden base drag tore at Kozmotis, threatening to pull him into the prison, yet with both hands firmly upon the wall next to the door, he managed to remain where he stood. As sudden as the pull had come, it was gone again, and the silence returned. Quickly Kozmotis reached for the door; he needed to close it again, fast. Something hit him hard in the chest, punching the air out of his lungs, and he was thrown on his back. Gasping for air, he lifted his head to see pure darkness stream out of the prison's portal, like thick, living smoke. Faster and faster the shadows came out, and Kozmotis tried to get back on his feet, to draw his sword, which he always carried at his side. The shadows whirled around him in a black storm, the piercing white eyes upon him, and sinister laughter filled the room, accompanied by the sound of sharp claws scratching over stone.
Tendrils of shadow wove around him from all sides, first binding themselves around his wrist and ankles, preventing any movement of his limbs. With all his strength Kozmotis struggled against their hold, as more tendrils came closer.
Kozmotis screamed in never before felt pain, as he felt them sinking burning cold into his skin, his chest, seeping into his flesh and veins. Like freezing fire he felt them spread throughout his body, and every muscle clenched, his back arched, as he tried to shake them off, or do anything to be rid of the shadows. His heart felt like it was about to stop, or burst. Blood began to run over his lips, nose, from his eyes mixed into the tears, streaming down his cool face, upon it the strained expression of indescribable agony. His body continued to cramp, twitching uncontrollably, before he was lifted, and hovered inches above the ground. His skin turned grey like ash, once blue veins now black beneath the skin, more and more Fearlings seeping into his body. It felt as if he was consumed from the inside, burned away by this freezing fire. All Kozmotis wanted was for this to end. All he wanted was to die.
His body began to shiver, from cold and exhaustion, the burning coldness, reaching up, through his throat, into his head. Kozmotis gasped, like a drowning man who had just gotten his head above the water, his eyes opening wide, red from his bloody tears. He was chocking as the darkness in him reached further and further; he could feel them scratching on his mind. In his effort to keep them out, he shook his head violently, screaming anew when something like sharp claws buried themselves into his head. At this point Kozmotis could feel himself passing out, his vision getting blurry, not just from the blood, but turning dark. "GET OUT!" He managed to scream, spitting more blood in the process, and briefly the claws retreated. Once more he screamed this time not in pain, but with all defiance he could still muster, feeling it clear his head.
Angry hissing surrounded him, animalistic snarls answered his call, and with renewed force, the Fearlings drove into him. His cries threatened to tear his throat apart, and the darkness returned, with its freezing claws at his mind. No, not like this; he had promised to keep them locked away for all eternity, he had promised to protect them. Merciless laughter ringed in his ears, his limbs once more twitching as he lost control over them. The shadows wove around him, covering his torso with a thick layer of darkness, like a form-fitted cocoon, its surface raging like a black fire.
Lykos, Ombric, Trismegistus, Scorpio…I have failed you all! Kozmotis thought, as the darkness crawled into his head, dulling his senses. The shadows now reached with their excrescences over his face.
Amina, my love; I didn't protect you…please, forgive me. More tears ran from his tightly closed eyes, but he didn't scream anymore, lacking the strength to defy the shadows any longer; he could hear their whispers in his head now.
Emily, my beloved daughter…I should have died in your place all these years ago, and…and if you're still out there, Kozmotis swallowed hard, be safe and live. I'm so sorry I couldn't keep my promise to you. Forgive me!
It was the last thing Kozmotis Pitchiner, former High General of the Seas, and Lord of Atlantis' Golden Fleet thought, before the darkness of ten-thousand Fearlings overcame his mind, leaving him unconscious, and his body twitched one more time before it stilled. The locket, his daughter's last gift to him, which he had kept all those years, slipped from his neck, bounced twice off the floor, before it slid beneath the shelf, to fall into oblivion.
Characters from the original books: Kozmotis Pitchiner/Pitch Black, Lady (Amina) Pitchiner, Emily Jane Pitchiner, Ombric Shalazar, Tsar & Tsarina Lunar, Tsar (Badr) Lunar/MiM, Sandman (Chrysos), Nightlight (Zopyros), Typhan, Dream Pirates/Fearlings/Nightmare Men
Hypnos=Greek god of sleep.
Spells:
Fosgail= to open/release/unbolt/ect.