PROLOGUE
The devastation of the battle altered inexorably the scenery: the lush radiance of the valley was replaced by the putrescent and unsettling miasma of death. Numerous corpses, or at least parts of them, decorated the area, giving the sight an unpleasant and miserable feeling.
A small group tried to piece together the remains of the dead bodies that rested on the ground as best as they could; but the conditions of some were so disastrous that they left no choice but to bury the little that remained, to give at least some semblance of dignity.
In the midst of it, a young woman was kneeling on the ground while her hand held tenderly that of one of the fallen victims left in the area. Bitter tears bathed what remained of her dear friend as her long hair, blond as wheat, fell tousled over her shoulders.
But the woman figure was shadowed by a larger and more majestic presence. Its shape was so breathtaking that it decorated the landscape itself with its sheer bulk.
The being was covered with shining scales whose color resembled the most precious silvery white that covered it reflected the morning sunlight, giving rise to a prismatic effect that blessed the surroundings with its colors.
His shape and characteristics resembled distantly those of a giant lizard. But there was something regal and divine about him, his features screaming royalty and magnificence, regalia of a bygone and remote era whose perfection had been lost.
Attached to his body, a pair of mammoth wings towered proudly. Their size was so immense that it would not have been foolish to think that they could cover an entire kingdom with their shadow.
The race to which it belonged was not comparable to the other beings who walked that earth, for it stood as the absolute apex of the food chain. A dragon.
The dragon looked at the girl and the body lying beside her. More than once he tried to open his mouth to try to emit a sound, any one to end the painful silence, but failed to do so.
In the end, it was the girl who spoke first: "It's useless, Tsa! Riku declined the resurrection. It seems that the weight of guilt he carried with himself was too great…" a muffled groan placed a halt to the woman's voice. "Even for him. I hope our leader has finally found the peace he seeked, at least."
Tsa uttered a lament, the sound of which could have been mistaken for the weeping of the world itself. An ancestral noise, the intensity of which covered with its sorrow the very essence of reality.
Riku's body was enveloped in a mysterious light, momentarily beginning to glow with a half-hearted intensity. For a tiny, minuscule moment, it seemed to come back to life.
He stood up ungainly, almost as if he were a puppet being guided by an expert manipulator. Rigrit somersaulted to the ground, her mouth stupefied with surprise.
"What are you doing? What is this blasphemy?" The horror of seeing her old companion reduced to that state, almost as if he had been an inanimate object devoid of will, was a deep stab in the heart of the woman.
"It's all my fault, Rigrit!" Tsa watched that pale imitation of life to which he gave form, but even that grotesque spectacle could not relieve his suffering. "If only I had been honest with you from the start, none of this would have ever happened. The world has lost one of its greatest protectors, and all because of my species. Once again. I have… I have to do something! Anything! Why? Why? Why can't I do anything?"
Regret. Could a dragon have such a human feeling? Or was it only an imitation of what lurked inside the hearts of those present?
The girl could not accept these words. No, it would have been more correct to say that she rejected them with all her being.
"You have nothing to do with what happened here and I'm sure he too would agree with me; please don't tear your soul apart for what we've witnessed. That dragon, that filthy being, had nothing in common with you!" How could one compare that affront to all that is holy and wonderful, to her old mentor?
"I beg you, stop this insanity!" The woman continued, heartbroken but firm in her conviction. "I have already lost too many companions today; I will not let another one drown in despair." Tears came copiously out of her eyes. The sight of that inanimate puppet brought her no consolation, only grief.
"Yet Riku and his friend would not have died if it wasn't for my father's lust for power." The dragon remonstrated. Shame. This was what Rigrit read in his being. A guilt that fell on his friend, and which nothing, she realized, could alleviate.
"And not only them! Even the Six Great Gods or the Eight Greed Kings perhaps would have had a better fate if not for him. Eventually these players found themselves catapulted into an unknown place only for the insatiable greed of my people. We have contaminated the world first, not them."
Rigrit collected her thoughts; what would have been the best thing to do? Try to console him? Tell the dragon that his father's mistakes didn't befall on him? Would it have had any meaning at that point?
In the depths of her heart, she had not yet forgiven Tsa for deceiving them, and after learning of the phenomenon called waves she could not disagree with all his words.
Riku, how did you always know the best thing to say? Why do I feel so lost without you?
"Here," the dragon leaned his old friend beside her, taking the utmost care that nothing could cause him the slightest disturbance, almost as if he were still alive. "Take care of him for me. Don't… don't leave what remains of his body at the mercy of vultures."
"I will honor his memory with my whole self," the woman replied. "He will live on. Just not in the way we wish."
Meanwhile, a slender hooded figure detached from the other survivors and began to spit all her wrath to the dragon: "It's your fault that this happened, yours and your damned species." She accused the dragon.
Small as she was, she would have been at best comparable to a gnat trying to sting an elephant. Yet ... yet her words were like a poisoned needle penetrating Tsa's flesh.
"If only you hadn't used that lousy armor and fought in your true form from the very beginning, Leader would still be alive and the souls of others wouldn't be lost forever. Their blood is on your hands! On my hands!"
The voice was filled with resentment and rage. Anger at the dragon for arriving when everything, by then, was too late.
But especially wrath at herself. For her worthlessness.
The other survivors had gathered around the hooded woman. In all, only five of them remained, including Rigrit. The other three, a regal-looking elf, a thick-armored ogre, and a tiger-like woman said nothing, but their gaze made it clear to Tsa that they shared the same feelings.
"Keno is right! There is nothing that can justify my behavior." Tsa agreed with her accusation. Even his perfect natural protection could not shield him from his accuser's words. "Protector of the world. What a joke!"
"I can't fix what happened here, but I can at least make sure it doesn't happen again. It's time to put an end to this endless cycle of destruction. I don't know if it will work, but let me make amends."
"Tsa, what are you going to do?" Rigrit inquired, trying to keep her gaze on the figure about to take flight. The cloud of dust that was beginning to rise from the beating of the dragon's wings concealed his being from view.
"We are mad but we don't want you to hurt yourself. No matter what happens, we are companions to the end, remember? Just like Riku used to say. We can't lose you too." The woman tried to reason with her old friend and teacher, but by now the decision had been made.
"If there is anything that you all have taught me, it is to act in accordance with your beliefs, no matter what the consequences." Hovering in the air, Tsa shone with a newfound glow. The sumptuousness of its scales would have brought envy even to the stars in the sky. "If wild magic started the advent, wild magic will end it."
"Are you sure of what you say? The cost of souls required should be exorbitant, and there is no certainty that it will work." Keno didn't know how to feel about that. Her anger continued to burn brighter than a thousand suns. But that did not mean that she demanded a price too high paid to her old comrade.
"I just have to hope it works. My friends, I give you one last task: protect Eryuentiu! Don't let its weapons fall into the wrong hands. Especially in those of the Cardinals. Use the nation I founded, the Republic of Argland, to fight the Theocracy. And to maintain Riku's dream alive."
"Will we ever meet again?" Rigrit asked.
"Who knows, but deep down in my heart I am relieved to know that I leave this world in your hands." The dragon gave them a final greeting as a warm feeling reminiscent of kindness emanated from his voice.
"Goodbye my friends, take care of yourself. Love this world as I have loved it!"
And with these words, he took off while what remained of the brave heroes remained motionless, in silence, to honor their lost friends for the last time.
CHAPTER 1: A light in the dark
Nazaire descended the numerous stairs that connected the Cathedral of Darkness to the dungeons of the city of Silksuntecks.
Outside, the evening was approaching. People were starting to close their shops and businesses, ready to retire to their homes after a hard day's work.
As the streets were beginning to empty, only the city guards remained in sight, not that they were really needed. There was a reason why the capital of the Theocracy of Slaine could be called the safest place in the world, at least for what concerned humans. Crime was non-existent within the city and the possibilities that some monster could break through the walls and enter the squares were almost close to zero.
Unlike its neighbors, the Theocracy had not instituted a system of adventurers who hunted humanity's enemies for a fee.
Instead, it had preferred to continue with its ironclad program of controlling and sorting the population in such a way that every single citizen received the most appropriate education that would make his or her talents, including the military, blossom.
Yes, her nation was truly the jewel of humanity, the legacy of the Gods to men.
Or so I thought in the past.
When she started her duty, thirty years ago, she had been assigned an expert guide to navigate the gigantic network of tunnels that lurked beneath the capital.
But after years of trials and errors, she now knew the way perfectly. All those tunnels no longer held any secrets for her.
After all, the point of arrival had always remained the same.
One of the bifurcations led to a small underground arena. Tradition had it that it was built by Imirduo, God of the earth, to train the first generation of Scriptures to fight the demihumans.
These days the training of the scriptures was entrusted to other, more equipped facilities, and the arena housed only two individuals, at least since she began serving.
Nazaire was not surprised to find herself in front of the same scene she had become accustomed to in all these times.
A woman with long black hair was fighting with a peculiar-looking child.
Her hair was perfectly divided into two colors: the left side was pure white, while the right one a dark black that matched the other woman's hair hue. The pupils also had the same color symmetry.
The girl was out of breath, her face covered by blood. She was holding onto her right arm with the left one, meaning it was probably broken. It was very evident the child was barely standing.
Today seems to be better than usual.
The situation would have prompted anyone to rush to the child and get her to safety, which Nazaire, the first time she saw the scene, had foolishly done.
But the trainer, Faine, was not as indulgent as she was and threw her away with such force and speed that the woman saw all her life flashing beside her eyes.
Eventually she got away with little, having to use crutches for only a couple of weeks.
But she had since then realized that when Faine was training her daughter, there was no one who could get in the way.
At least, not me.
In reality, more than training it would have been better to say torture. The expectations that woman placed on her daughter went far beyond those that would normally be required of even a Godkin like her.
More than once Nazaire had begged her to stop the training, warning Faine that she ran the risk of killing the girl.
"If she dies, I will always be able to resurrect her." The coldness of her remark never failed to leave her amazed.
"Again" she said to the girl.
It was shocking how that little girl always managed to keep fighting despite her injuries and fatigue. Not that it made any difference: her every blow was easily neutralized and her mother's retaliations became more and more violent with each exchange.
At least today lady Faine is just using her fists and no weapons. Maybe she is in a good mood.
Faine was strong, strong like no one else in the Theocracy. As captain of the Black Scriptures, she stood as the defender of humanity from any threat. Her skills had earned her recognition as a trump weapon by her superiors.
"Again." she repeated with the same calm intonation of voice.
Being able to take her shots showed how exceptional her daughter was too.
Antilene, that was her name, even though Nazaire and Cassius were the only ones to call her that.
Cassius, cardinal of the earth and her direct superior, had told her about the unhappy circumstances of her birth: it was the result of a physical violence that the king of the elves, once their ally, had perpetrated against Faine.
Her ancestry explained why she had barely changed over the past 30 years while her mother and Nazaire grew older.
A long-life span could have been considered a gift in the majority of cases, but while forced into grueling workouts and never being able to see sunlight that eternity felt more like a curse.
"That's enough!" Exclaimed the long-haired warrior after throwing Antilene to the ground. "From tomorrow onward, I will be on a mission, and I expect to see some results when I return."
And with these words, she left without even saying goodbye to her daughter, or greeting Nazaire.
The housekeeper sighed, now accustomed to the scene, and began with her work.
She took the child on her shoulders and walked to one of the rooms that served as her apartment. It was not very big, and the first time she saw it, she marveled at how spartan it was: only a small bed, a poorly stocked kitchen, a shelf that was periodically filled with provisions and potions, and a small table to eat was all that adorned the room.
Her everyday clothes consisted only of a tailored suit of armor and a woolen shirt, dark trousers and a pair of shoes. Adjacent to the room, a bathroom had been set up for her personal needs.
These days, the room had taken on a livelier aspect thanks to the gifts Nazaire had given her over the years: there was no longer a single ensemble but enough clothes to fill a small closet she had given Antilene for her birthday.
She had also managed to get hold of some disused toys that had become the most precious treasures for the little half-elf. In particular, a soldier with long hair showed more signs of use than the others.
After treating her wounds, the older woman began to prepare dinner while the child took the opportunity to rest.
Whenever they dined together, the youngest asked all the questions she could put together about the outside world.
"Tell me Nazaire, is the story of the battle of Fort Quarto true? Did the Goddess of fire Lagusa really burn alive 10,000 demihumans who had dared to try to devour her followers?" She asked, with her mouth still half filled with the soup they were eating.
"And how do you know that? It doesn't seem to me that that was present in the material I gave you to study this week." Among her duties, Nazaire also had that of providing for her education.
The woman knew the story, one of the most famous and gory concerning the Goddess of fire, but she believed that the girl was still too young to learn about it.
"It was in the book that Uncle Cassius gave me the last time he came to see me. It's called Six Great Stories about the Six Great Gods!" Antilene said with eyes full of enthusiasm. She loved stories about the great heroes and figures of the past, especially those involving the patron deities of the Theocracy.
"Now I understand." Responded Nazaire, moved by the child's curiosity. "Well, if the cardinal thought it appropriate to give you this gift, who am I to contradict him?"
In fact, the caregiver wished her superior had not shown-something more unique than rare-such initiative. But it was not up to her to syndicate the choices of the nation's representatives.
"Let's see, according to tradition, the goddess Lagusa used such powerful magic that the flames did not go out for weeks. Even today many pilgrims go to the place where the battle is believed to have taken place."
"Wow, that's incredible." Antilene exclaimed in wonder, her eyes shining full of admiration. But it took only a moment, however, for her expression to darken. "Do you think one day I will be able to see it too? Maybe the three of us could go together. Me, you and mom."
"Of course, I don't see why not." Nazaire lied. Who knew it, maybe one day she would be able to convince the cardinals to let Antilene out into the outside world.
But I strongly doubt that Faine would join us.
"In the book, there was also another story that I liked a lot," the half-elf resumed, distracting Nazaire from her thoughts. "It spoke of Egarda, the goddess of water, and of the love she felt for her children. There were no great battles, no frightening monsters. Only the ways she spent time with her sons and daughters: the games they played, the dishes she prepared for them. They must have been very happy!"
The caregiver immediately understood where the half-elf was going. Egarda and the immense love she felt for her offspring had become a point of reference for all the mothers of the nation. All but one.
"I know that mom has a lot to do, but why does she never find a moment for me? Is it because I am weak and I cause her shame? Am I such a failure?" she asked with a dejected air.
Oh, sweetie. If only I could tell you. But would you understand? Can a daughter understand her mother's pain?
Nazaire had heard that question countless times and, may the Gods forgive her, had never told the truth.
"I'm sure it's not true; your mother is a very important and very busy woman. The whole nation stands on her shoulders, I'm sure it pains her a lot not being able to spend more time with you." She said, trying to convince herself rather than the girl.
What she had said was the truth, she just omitted some pieces of reality.
"If you say so, I believe you auntie!"
Auntie, she didn't deserve that nickname, but what could she do? Antilene's life was already so hard, telling her that her mother saw her only as a tool wouldn't make things better.
How I hate my weakness.
She couldn't help but try to bring some light into that situation. What other choice did she have?
"Rather, since tomorrow it will be just you and me, why don't we cook something special? You could help me prepare those omelets you like so much."
"Really? Can we use those aromatic spices you used last time? Can we? They tasted sooo good!" A smile returned to Antilene's face. Many would have called that diabolic grin off-putting, but for Nazaire nothing was more adorable.
"Ahahahahah of course we can! But, in truth, I wanted to try a different recipe that was recommended to me by a friend of mine. Let's make a deal: if you promise to go to sleep early and to study all morning tomorrow, we will use both recipes. Double portion of omelets!"
"Hurray, cheer. I promise I will be the most obedient child in the world. Thanks Aunt Nazaire." Antilene said, hugging her gently. The warmth of her little body so close to the old woman.
After they finished dinner, the two cleared the table, quickly rearranged the kitchen, and played together until it was time to go to sleep.
As promised, the half-elf went to bed immediately, exhausted from the day.
After making sure she was in the world of dreams, Nazaire turned off the lights and went to rest in the room she had been assigned.
Sleep well, Antilene. May your dreams be rich in joy and happiness.