Author's Note: Much to Hisota's dismay, she doesn't own the original ideas for this story, as it sole belongs to Christopher Paolini. The ideas of control of elements of Hisota's original character belongs to Dragon of Twilight and were tweaked by ObsidianTheatre, as was the plotline in the fan fiction.
""Such a disgraceful entry." I murmured, continuing my journey in the revolting scullery chute, in front of me Morzansson also struggled to slither down the filthy tube.
"Lady Dycentra," he began, utterly disregarding my remark, "whilst in the fortress, I caution you to be alert. Our escape has been arranged –"
"Morzansson, you needn't worry about my flight, I am capable of fending my own." I replied. Upon entrance, I will find where Arya lies. And when I do, her eye will belong to me. When I find her, her eye, her life, her power shall at my disposal!
"In any case, Lady Dycentra, if you need assistance, our escape is set, our route will be formed when the next shift of guards exchange." He said. Morzansson leapt out of the chute and brushed off the remaining rubbish hanging on his clothes. I followed in suit, sweeping the dirt from my cloak. Morzansson pulled a large pack off his shoulders and removed a black shroud, a false beard, a walking stick, his bow and quiver of arrows. Pulling on the guise he assumed a feigned limp, leaning on the walking stick. I drew the hood over my eyes, and trailed after him, clutching Vitenka at my hip.
The prison was wretchedly cold, and dull. From the scullery chute that served as our gate, an array of stone stairs lead the way up into what I assume as the main passage. Morzansson ensured no one witnessed our coming, then beckoned me to follow him up the stairway.
Together we flew up the stone steps before laying eyes upon the main prison passage of the jail in Gil'ead. Of course, the bleak and dampness did not subside – the vast castle's ceiling refused to allow the sunlight to enter the building. Returning my gaze upon Morzansson, I found him striding towards one of the long corridors.
"Do you know the whereabouts of your destination?"I asked.
"No."He simply replied.
"Well then, Morzansson, might we travel jointly for the time being?" He didn't reply and continued marching, I swiftly followed behind him. As we walked both he and I remained alert for the presence of soldiers, or worse, a Shade. A faint cry rendered my body stiff. Morzansson immediately dipped into a defensive stance, his hand flying to his bow. I whipped around to find the weep had resounded from a wooden door.
Morzansson approached the door cautiously and peered through the barred window. Silence. He then crouched down and tried to pry the lock open.
"Morzansson, have you found –"
"Lady Dycentra, I trust with your powers you can open this."
I also bent down and examined the lock – a simple dead bolt, one that can be cracked open, why would I waste my life on something this simple?
"Morzansson, merely smash the lock."
"It is unwise we would – " Before he could finish, I had already drew Vitenka and slammed it into the lock. The eerie sound of clashing metal echoed the halls. "– attract too much attention." The door slowly opened. Morzansson gazed at the broken lock on the ground, then slowly exhaled and scanned the area before quickly stepping into the cell, curious, I went after him. Inside the cell was a little boy, no more than 10 years of age. Morzansson carefully stepped towards the boy, the child shrivelled back, wary of the figure approaching him. Strangely, his eyes were glazed over, as if in a trance...is this child...blind?
"Morzansson, this is whom you were seeking?" I asked, incredulity charmed my words, he disregarded me.
"I'm not going to harm you." Morzansson softly said. No, this wasn't the one Murtugh was looking for...if was, the boy would have responded accordingly. However, the boy remained still. "Come, you needn't be frightened, you can escape."The boy tilted his head, curious. Morzansson reached over for the child and pulled him up, and gently guiding him to the door. He then pointed the child to staircase and down where in the scullery chute, giving him directions for means to flee. Such a fool, doesn't he realize the child cannot see?
"Morzansson, the child is blind."
He raised his eyes to meet mine before spinning the boy around to face him. He knelt down and waved his hand in front of the boy's eyes. No response. He moaned.
"Lady Dycentra, might I ask a great favour." He said. I raised an eyebrow. Surely Morzansson did not think that virtuously of me, surely he wouldn't believe me to be of such morality and decency to – "Would you kindly escort the child out?"
I gawked at him idiotically. He turned and strode away.
"Lev – " No, Morzansson.
Murtugh Morzansson.... such a man forces me to reminiscent someone long ago, someone who held me dear, someone who was foolish enough to throw away their own life for me. It is as if Murtugh was protecting this child just as someone once protected me…
My eyes widened, before me stood a man, his left eye was a smouldering red, his right a dull brown. Is doesn't matter – heterochromatic eyes. A Nymph. Another Nymph has found us. Me, a child. Levka, I must get to Levka. Mother made him promise to protect me. He would protect me! He wouldn't let anyone take my eyes!
"Levka!"
I crashed into his body, as his arms quickly covered me. I'll be safe. I told myself. Levka is here. The other Nymph materialized from the corner of my eye. I shrieked and gripped Levka even harder. He hushed me, trying to calm me down. I was hyperventilating then. He gently placed me on the ground again and stood to face the other Nymph.
The Nymph grinned maliciously.
"Two young Nymphyn." He said, laughing. "Why, it must by my lucky day." He paused and began his approach. He glanced over Levka before laying his eyes upon me. Watching me, wanting me.
"No." Levka whispered.
"I'll tell you what boy," the Nymph said, with a tone of negotiation. "The girl is plenty, why waste our life on something as insignificant as ethics? We are one and the same are we not?"
"Levka." My voice chocked. Levka's arm slowly moved towards his sword, the sword he had named Vitenka, before slowly drawing it out. The other Nymph cocked his eyebrow.
"So be it." The Nymph smirked. Raising his right hand, he revealed his power, the power to conjure the crimson flames.
Levka pulled me aside, forcing me to stand alone in the open while he fights to defend my existence. Brandishing Vitenka in his right hand, he commenced paving towards the other Nymph, initiating the battle. The Nymph's grin widened, revealing all his gleaming teeth, raised his burning arm over and around his body, and lashed out. Crimson ribbons shot forward from his finger tips, rapidly making their way towards Levka. I stepped backwards, trying to further myself from harm.
Levka grimaced, and whipped his sword down in front, creating a flurry of wind, the gust engulfed and twisted around the red fire, encircling scarlet in a black flame of his own. Both trembled and wafted away, the black lingering, signifying the victor of the clash. The Nymph's smile crashed and fell, only to be replaced with an infuriated sneer.
"The cold flame; hell fire." He hissed. Levka forlornly smiled.
Hell's fire? It is not so furious. Levka is gentle, though sullen and hostile. He is a man who can douse any temper just as his black flame's ice will douse this infernal creature. Levka can win! His flame can win out! And we will once again remain in peace.
Suddenly Levka's aggrieved cry shattered through my reverie, devastating my delicately built resolution.
"Levka!" I shrieked. He was staggering; clutching his abdomen, he twisted his fingers around and inside the wound, and then slowly extracted a jagged rock – shouting in anguish as it left his flesh. The other Nymph laughed.
"You seemed to have taken me too lightly, believing that fire was my only element."
"You mean..." Levka began, as a thought dawned upon him.
"Yes." The Nymph mocked, pointing towards his right eye. "I killed another of our kin, I killed her and stole her eye, I killed her and stole her power."
"No!" I screamed at the Nymph. "You monster!" He....killed another. He killed another Nymph; he's going to kill Levka too. And if he kills Levka...he is going to kill me. He is going to kill me and take my eye, my life.
"Hush, Dycentra." Levka whispered. He then clawed at a chain around his neck, pulling it from underneath his shirt, a small black orb, now rested in his bloody hand. Lifting it to his face, he blew on it, murmuring to it. The black began to drip from the orb, puddle-ling in his palm. Beneath the black, held...
"Mother's eye." I whispered. In Levka's hand, held Mother's eye, the sapphire iris glazed over. "Levka...you..." No, he wouldn't dare, Levka wouldn't fall so low to use the eye of his own Mother! Levka wouldn't sink to the level of becoming a monster!
"Dycentra, there are times when power is worth more than ethics."
ObsidianTheatre, and mainly Hisota apologizes for such a long delay for this chapter, however she hopes you enjoy Chapter 5 of "Sight" and promises the next chapter will emerge much faster. She hopes this delay didn't cause any readers to lose hope in "Sight" and continues to read it. Hisota encourages all to review to comment on her writing style, plot, or anything else, such as questions are welcome. Thank You.