Hello! Chapter #10 is here! Although it is not much of a milestone, I do think I should thank everyone who has kept up with the story and for all the helpful comments from Golden (and all of his reviews!)
Without further ado, here we go again!
Amidst the crumbling remnants the trio—Agarth, Elrid and Enconeg pushed through the desolation, their footfalls echoing in the desolate landscape. As they ventured deeper into the endless ruins, an unsettling feeling settled over Elrid. The air seemed to hum with an energy he couldn't quite place, and the shadows seemed to whisper secrets of the past.
Even after their recent shocking event, the ruins proved to be uncaring, for the team encountered newer and newer foes. There was difference however - the creatures they encountered were something that Elrid hadn't seen before and his curiosity peeked, after encountering what looked like intelligent wolves. The creatures were bipedal, staying on their back feet, travelling in groups, carrying small spears, and using explosives. Elrid wondered how had they came to be so alike humans.
Agarth and Enconeg took the opportunity to enlighten Elrid on the nature of their opponents.
Agarth's voice was measured and authoritative as he began, "Kobolds are feral creatures dwelling in caves and deep, unpopulated forests. They're marked by their territorial nature and their formation of tribes, each under the command of an unwavering Chieftain. While their intelligence might not be their most notable trait, they more than compensate with their agility and pack-hunting tactics."
Enconeg's gruff voice followed, "Blimey, they're proper tricky buggers, they are. They're all sneaky with tools, weapons, and as you've seen, even explosives, and they ain't daft when it comes to a scrap. Got themselves a right proper social hierarchy, they do—follow their Chieftain like a bloomin' gospel."
With the weight of these newfound insights resting upon Elrid's shoulders, Agarth seized the moment to redirect their focus. He cast an apologetic gaze towards Elrid and began, "I must apologize for my earlier outburst. The danger we faced was overwhelming, and my fear got the best of me."
Elrid nodded, accepting the apology. With sincerity in his eyes, he questioned Agarth, "But what about what happened earlier? How was I able to do what I did?"
The Fateweaver regarded Elrid thoughtfully before responding, "What you experienced, my friend, is something that completely breaks all that we now. I guess it's a phenomenon. One that we shall call...'fateshifting.' It seems to be an inherent ability unique to you, I guess it has something to do with you being resurrected.
Can you tell me, how were you able to...'activate' it, I guess that would be the best term, for now at least." he questioned of Elrid.
The young man mused as they kept on walking.
"When I saw you struck down, the next instant, the world around me turned blue and purple and the fabric of time seemed to bend, slow down. All of a sudden I wielded a sword of light, a weapon born of the otherworldly."
He recounted the moment he faced the towering Ettin, its bellowing rage shaking the very ground beneath him. With eyes alight with determination, he described how he had stood his ground, his newfound power swirling within him.
As his words hung in the air like a tapestry of wonder, the weight of the battle's aftermath lifted. The trio—Elrid, Agarth, and Enconeg—stood there, alive and whole despite the odds stacked against them. The wounds that marred their bodies were wiped by the newfound strength of Elrid's.
Agarth's eyes gleamed with a mixture of fascination and recognition as he regarded Elrid's account. "Aye, Elrid, you've stumbled upon something extraordinary."
With the weight of this newfound understanding pressing upon them, Agarth's gaze locked onto Elrid's, unwavering in its determination. "Fear not, my friend. Once we're safe, I shall stand by your side and guide you as best as I can in mastering this ability. I'm still very much baffled by it, but it would be better than stumbling on your own and potentially blasting yourself into dust, yeah?" he teased his now pupil. The three of them chuckled at the thought and kept on with their journey through the blasted caves.
Before them stood another enigma in the ever-twisting labyrinth of Dellach's ruins. The three adventurers approached a new door, its circular form set it apart from the other stone barriers they had encountered. Yet, it was not the shape alone that commanded their attention; it was the intricate dance of hovering glyphs that adorned its surface. Like ethereal fireflies, these symbols painted an otherworldly tapestry, seemingly waiting for the touch of destiny to unravel their secrets.
Agarth's eyes gleamed with a mixture of awe and anticipation as he spoke, his voice carrying a hint of reverence, "This must be it—the Theater of Fate. I never thought I'd see it."
Agarth extended his hand towards the door, his palm coming to rest upon its ancient surface. However, as his fingers made contact, the door remained obstinately sealed, its purpose yet to be unveiled. Frowning slightly, he continued, "It seems this door demands more than mere touch to reveal its secrets. Maybe there is some kind of a mechanism, or a particular glyph that we must touch, or press."
The trio dispersed to explore the door more closely. Their eyes traced the curves of the glyphs, scrutinizing every inch in search of a hidden trigger. But for all their effort, no concealed mechanism or key presented itself. Save for the hovering symbols, the door defied explanation.
Elrid's fingers drummed thoughtfully against the stone surface as he pondered their next step. With a sigh, he leaned against the door, the weight of his uncertainty mirrored in the furrow of his brow. To their astonishment, as if in response to Elrid's touch, the door's glyphs came alive, a mesmerizing dance of light and motion. They swirled and shifted, aligning with an intricate precision that left the trio baffled. The chaos of the glyphs coalesced into a single, majestic circular image, a mosaic etched in radiant energy.
Before their eyes, the circular door began to move, splitting into halves that retreated to either side. What lay beyond was a steep staircase. Once they crossed it, they stepped on a simple cobblestone bridge—a path leading them forward. It stretched out like the spine of a serpent, daring them to step onto its precarious path. No railings guarded its edges, adding an element of danger to the spectacle. At the bridge's terminus stood a tower-like structure, its silhouette against the horizon promising a destination that beckoned with intrigue. At the top of the tower, there were multiple plints which made it look like a crown.
Their ascent to the tower's summit proved to be a reprieve from combat, though it exacted a toll in the form of physical exertion. The arduous climb along the spiraling staircase was punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of their heartbeats and the synchronized sounds of their footfalls. The seemingly endless ascent was a challenge that ultimately lasted no more than a half-hour but felt like an eternity. Their weariness, however, was overshadowed by the anticipation that swelled within them.
As the trio reached the zenith of the tower, they were greeted by yet another circular door. This time, Elrid's practiced hand easily swung it open, revealing the outermost edge of the tower. The path before them veered inward, leading down a flight of stairs—an unexpected change in direction.
From their elevated vantage point, they gazed out over the expanse below. What had once been a majestic amphitheater now lay in ruins, the splendor of its grandeur reduced to scattered rubble and shattered remnants. Amidst the desolation, the skeletal outlines of once-elegant stands stood as haunting reminders of what had been. A sense of melancholy mingled with awe as they beheld the remnants of an age long past.
Elrid's inner voice broke the silence, a whispered thought carried on the winds of their exploration. That must have been the stage. The irony was not lost on him, standing atop the tower's lofty heights and gazing down upon the remnants of an arena where destinies had once intersected.
At the heart of the tower's open expanse stood a plinth—a focal point that seemed to radiate with an ethereal light, an island of luminance amidst the shadows of time. Intricate symbols adorned its surface, cryptic patterns that stirred a sense of wonder and curiosity within the trio.
In an instant, the tranquility that had surrounded them shattered like glass as the ground around the arena seemed to rupture. From the gaping maws of newly formed purple and black chasms emerged grotesque figures, their otherworldly appearance sending a shiver down the spines of the trio. These alien-like creatures were an embodiment of dread, their skeletal frames devoid of flesh, revealing an eerie assemblage of bones held together by an unnatural force. Monstrous limbs, both arms and legs, sprawled out from their central forms, bearing massive, claw-like protrusions that gleamed with a sinister luster.
A collective gasp hung in the air as the monstrosities bared their jaws, revealing a multitude of razor-sharp fangs that promised nothing but savagery. On their backs, ominous crystals glowed with an unsettling purple hue, casting an eerie light that seemed to bend and twist the very air around them.
Agarth's recognized the creatures for he said, "Niskaru? Gods, I should have brought another bottle..."
Elrid took a step down towards the arena saying, "We have to kill them then. We need to get to the plint and the Theatre anyways. And as much as I dread yet another fight with what seems the underworld's spawns, it seems we have no choice."
The clash erupted, steel meeting bone as Elrid's sword sliced at the first Niskaru, trying to break through the small gaps in the creature's armor. "Keep your guard up!" he shouted, parrying a Niskaru's strike. Agarth's blade whirled, his movements fluid and calculated, dashing into another foe. The monster fell down to the ground from the sheer force of the Fateweaver, but was quickly up and about the arena, now more beware of the danger that Agarth posed.
Enconeg made his to the fight in a roundabout fashion - his twin frost daggers gleaming in the dim light. He slipped through the shadows, striking the third Niskaru in the neck, killing it in an instant with lethal accuracy. "Stay sharp, mates," he muttered.
The rest of the nightmare abominations surged, their skeletal forms moving with an uncanny agility. Elrid's blade arced, a flash of silver that sent one foe stumbling back. Agarth's eyes glinted as he deflected an attack, his instincts guiding him.
Enconeg joined them, weaving between the creatures, daggers slashing. Frost trailed in his wake, chilling the air. "Mind your spacing, coming through" he warned, his breath steady despite the chaos.
A Niskaru lunged, fangs bared, at Elrid. He barely managed to sidestep, his sword grazing its bony form. "Time to shine," he muttered, his fingers tingling with arcane energy. A surge of power enveloped him, as he blasted a lightning into the creature, rendering it obsolete and spent on the floor of the arena. He turned back towards the last remaining monster, rushing to his mentor's aid.
Agarth's blade met the bony claw of the Niskaru's, sparks igniting in the clash. He locked weapons with the creature, making it so that both of them couldn't free themselves. But Agarth knew that he couldn't overpower the deadly creature.
"Elrid, now!" he shouted, eyes narrowing as he held on.
Elrid's new blade cleaved through the air, its luminous arc unerring. The Niskaru, caught off guard, staggered back as the longsword seared its form. "Take this!" Elrid's voice rang with determination.
The final Niskaru fell to the ground silently.
Breathing heavily in the aftermath of the fierce skirmish, the trio's swords still glinting with the remnants of the battle, Agarth's voice cut through the tension like a clarion call. "No surprise a Niskaru found its way to this place of power," he stated with a mix of resignation and understanding. His gaze shifted from one face to another, the expressions reflecting a shared understanding that the Niskaru's appearance had not been coincidental.
Agarth's arm swept in an encompassing gesture, his voice carrying a note of reverence as he continued, "Everything about these ruins is dedicated to this room, and at the center of it all is the Destiny Stone. With it, the Fae taught the Fateweavers the answers to the deepest mysteries of Fate." The ancient knowledge that permeated the air was palpable, and the weight of the room's history hung heavy in the air.
Turning his attention to Elrid, Agarth's eyes held a mix of curiosity and a hint of expectation. "Put your hands on the stone," he directed, his voice carrying a solemnity that matched the gravity of the moment. "Perhaps within its depths, we can unearth answers to your own mysteries. Once you do, it will show me where you fit into the Tapestry of Fate."
Elrid stepped toward the radiant plinth, his hand connecting with its surface. A surge of purple essence enveloped him, swirling like an ethereal current before being drawn into his very being. He could feel the energy flowing through him, a connection to something ancient and profound. Before his eyes, the plinth's stone wheels began to shift and turn, a symphony of magic and mechanics intertwining. The once-solid structure unraveled, revealing a hollow cylindrical piece that floated before him, a crystalline beacon of knowledge.
Puzzlement furrowed Elrid's brow as he regarded the floating cylinder, uncertainty dancing in his eyes. Agarth's voice, both wise and encouraging, cut through the uncertainty. "Look inside, Elrid," he instructed, a sense of urgency tinging his words. With Agarth's guidance, Elrid peered into the heart of the floating cylinder.
As his gaze fell upon the green circular stone slab within, his eyes widened with wonder. Carvings adorned its surface, intricate patterns that seemed to tell a tale written in a language beyond words. With a sense of reverence, he retrieved the stone slab, his fingers tracing the carvings as if deciphering their enigmatic secrets. Yet, as quickly as the plinth's magic had manifested, it dissipated, and the floating cylinder and the plint both crashed to pieces, leaving only echoes of its power behind.
Startled by the abrupt transformation, Elrid turned away from the now dormant remains of the plinth and returned to the waiting figures of Agarth and Enconeg. Agarth's eyes held a mixture of awe and concern as he addressed Elrid. "The Destiny Stone came apart at your touch. And all around you, the Tapestry of Fate—unraveling itself! And there, at the core, was the Codex of Destiny, the wisdom that the Fae used to help to help the first Fateweavers understand the nature of the weave!" Agarth gestured towards the green wheel cradled in Elrid's hands. "Don't you see what this means?" The significance of this moment weighed heavily in the air, anticipation and uncertainty intermingling.
Agarth's question hung in the air, the gravity of the situation pressing upon Elrid's shoulders. He shifted to secure the wheel within his backpack as he spoke, his voice laced with contemplation. "I think the world is changing. Drastically."
Agarth's hand rested thoughtfully on his chin, his voice a mixture of analysis and revelation. "Yes, yes it is. And from what I can tell, you're the one changing it—with every breath, you're altering how lives begin and end." The implications of this newfound power were vast, the responsibilities monumental.
"The way the Codex came to you out of the stone...that's got to mean something, too, but I'll be damned if I can read this thing," Agarth admitted, a hint of frustration tinging his words.
Enconeg's voice, gruff and pragmatic, joined the conversation. "Why, it looks like a plain old rock to me. Sure it's pretty, but it can't be any danger, can it?"
Agarth's response was swift and intense, his voice carrying a mixture of caution and gravity. "It is as dangerous as an open flame! You could help people, or destroy them entirely. When you get involved, there is no grand cosmic plan. Only freedom, and all of the dangers that come with it. And that means I owe y- wait, what's that?"
All three heads turned in unison, their eyes widening at the sight that met their gaze. A half-dozen Tuatha, sinister Fae of malevolent intent, emerged from the same balcony that they themselves had ascended from not long ago. The chilling familiarity of the location juxtaposed against the ominous figures cast a foreboding shadow over the theater. At the forefront of the group stood a lone Tuatha magician, a sinister conductor of chaos, who raised a bony finger and pointed it towards the trio. In response to his command, a chorus of guttural cries echoed as the other Tuatha descended the stairs, their battle cries a symphony of aggression.
Yet, even in the midst of the impending onslaught, fate had other plans. The magician's demise was as swift as it was unexpected. A blur of movement, the glint of a blade—Elrid's assassin acquaintance from Arden's Hut had reemerged, her lethal proficiency leaving no room for mercy. The magician's lifeblood stained the balcony, his throat slashed and his stomach carved open, a stark testament to the deadly dance of shadows and steel as she now stood above her victim.
However, no time lingered for contemplation or relief. The remaining Tuatha wasted no time, their bellowing war cries a clarion call to arms as they charged down the stairs towards the arena. The battle had entered a new phase, the clash of steel against steel, magic against might, unfolding once more amidst the ruins of the amphitheater.
Enconeg's move was nothing short of audacious as he charged headlong into the line of Tuatha warriors. His daggers found their mark with ruthless precision, the first foe meeting his end in a whirlwind of lethal grace. With his weapons deeply embedded, Enconeg tackled his victim to the ground, an act that sent shockwaves through the Tuatha formation. The disruption created a ripple effect as some of the Tuatha turned their attention towards Enconeg, their initial assault momentarily fragmented while the remaining few split between Agarth and Elrid.
Elrid, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling upon him, recognized his limitations. His arcane well was running dry, leaving him with no choice but to adopt a defensive stance. Swordplay was not his forte, especially when matched against seasoned adversaries like the Tuatha warriors. His movements were measured, each parry calculated to deflect the incoming strikes, each step a testament to his determination to endure.
Agarth's confidence was palpable as he seized the opportunity that presented itself. Swift as a shadow, he dashed between the remaining adversaries. His speed was a weapon in itself as he rammed into the Tuatha on his left, toppling him to the ground in a collision of force and momentum. In a fluid motion, Agarth's blade rose, meeting the strike of a spear-wielding enemy. His words carried a blend of taunt and challenge, a wry grin playing on his lips. "You surely didn't expect an old man to be this fast, eh?" Agarth's voice rang with an undeniable vigor, his words accompanied by the thrill of battle. "Well...let's see what you've got!"
The battle raged on within the ancient amphitheater. Enconeg continued to dance amidst the Tuatha, a deadly silhouette whose daggers moved like a lethal waltz. He shifted with grace and precision, striking down his adversaries one by one. His daggers became an extension of his very being, a manifestation of his skill and determination. Each fallen foe was a testament to his cunning and stealth.
Elrid, though weary, maintained his stalwart defense. His sword moved with a grace born of necessity, deflecting strikes and parrying blows. He was not a master of combat, but his determination was unwavering. The fatigue that weighed on him was countered by his resolve to protect his companions, but in this particular case, protect himself since the rest of them clearly were good enough to look after themselves. Each clash of steel sent sparks flying, and his breaths came in ragged rhythm, a testament to the relentless assault.
Agarth, the seasoned Fateweaver, reveled in the exhilaration of battle. His movements were a testament to his experience, his swordplay a symphony of precision and power. He maneuvered through the fray with a dancer's grace, disarming his adversaries with practiced ease. His taunts and jests were a reflection of his unshakable confidence, a fire that burned brightly in the heat of battle.
A fourth player was also introduced into the fray - the assassin whom Elrid brawled with.
The Dokkalfar jumped down onto the arena and quickly dispatched an oblivious Tuatha that was mawling on with his sword at Elrid.
He, of course, couldn't ignore the gesture and so he showed her a small smile as a token of appreciation for the help but without losing a moment, both of them turned towards other targets.
It was no more than a minute or two for the rag-tag group to finish up with the Tuatha. All of them were more than exhausted, almost completely spent after fighting all day against all kind of manner of creatures, and then some in the face of the Tuatha. Agarth, however, wasn't taking any chances. He raised his sword and pointed it at the single woman. "Seeing how I heard a Dokkalfar attacked Elrid at Arden's hut and how much of an impeccable timing you have with the Tuatha, I'm more than inclined not to trust you. Who are you? How do we know you're not working with the Tuatha?" he questioned her.
She wasn't fazed at all. She only looked in Agarth's direction as she explained herself. "I don't care if you trust me. I'm much more interested in your friend here." she pointed with a finger towards Elrid. And just as the old Fateweaver was about to ask her something else, she completely disregarded him and turned towards Elrid.
"I'm beginning to think these Tuatha don't like you. Now why do you think that might be? After all...someone who can change the fate of the world? Who wouldn't want you?"
Agarth was fuming at being completely sidestepped like that and was about to give her a piece of his mind, especially when she knew what Elrid was, but Elrid, although surprised himself, prevented his mentor's lashing out by waving him to keep it in for at least a little bit.
"You can start by telling us how did they find us?" he crossed his hands as he tried to make himself look more intimidating.
"I'm not sure, but they're very-well informed about your location. They came straight here from Didenhil. But they are not nearly as interesting as you, especially now that they are dead." she smirked at him as she imitated his pose, showing him that she wasn't at all bothered by his act.
"Now it's my turn. Why are you here?"
"I came to understand my fate"
She narrowed her gazed at him for a long two seconds which made him want to avert his eyes from her, but just as he was about to, she burst in laughter. After she had calmed down, she looked at him like he was a small child.
"Knowing the future is for fools. Who reads the end of a book before its time? Save your attention for the present."
Agarth was obviously trembling with fury by now, but pure discipline kept him quiet.
The Dokkalfar woman continued. "That Codex you found...our scholars thought those were all gone from the world, but you're just full of surprises. Oh, good luck understanding it. That's Fae knowledge - they don't even have a written language. The stone is simply embedded with what they know. Unsee-able to mortals."
Elrid wasn't as concerned about the stone, but rather the constant attacks from these dark Fae. He voiced his concerns with the assassin.
Her answer was...cryptic at best.
"Why worry about the little fish, when deeper waters hold the more...interesting secrets? There is more to this than you understand. I don't have the answers for you, but I know someone who might." she turned around and walked away from the trio, never looking back but still talking. "When you're ready, meet me at the House of Ballads. I'm sure the Fae would love to meet you."
And just as she was about to disappear from their vision, Elrid shouted.
"Hey! You haven't told me your name! How in Amalur am I supposed to look for you at some Fae place when I don't even know who to ask for? And why are even helping us?"
She turned around and a coy smile adorned her face.
"I already told you, you are interesting. And as to how you should call me - the name is Alyn Shir."
With that, she jumped off the side of the arena, disappearing into the darkness below.
And with that, folks, we end this chapter here. I think it's a pretty dope ending! As always, do leave your reviews and feedback.
Until next time!