They present themselves at the sentient gate of the steep hilltop within the recumbent serenity, in whistles and sighs calling out the cheery songs of the Falcons within.
The sorrow was cold and misty, the horses they mount prompt the presence of tiredness and disturbance, almost that the entryway seems to be swarmed by withered unseen entities lurking in the daylight shadows. A barren land of sorts they thought, not letting them get beyond the gates after the terrible journey of Ritchler and his weary folk, Maverick, and Irene Yatar.
Two lifeless stone giants were looking down upon them, a hundred feet high of two mages veiled under a hood, the wing of a bat and the other of a falcon, possessing massive staffs in their hands, and beside them flows a stream of blue fountain coming from the giant stones. The sentries were fashioned by the lucid arch of prism near the sky. The door itself shows treading radiance filled with colors as if a rainbow was a doorway to such a bewitching place for special souls. A single wooden tower at the vanguard from each coast with banners of a fire-breathing falcon, guarded by dark blue mantled custodians with green eyes burning without flames.
A single wooden tower at the vanguard from each coast with banners of a fire breathing falcon, guarded by dark blue mantled custodians with green eyes burning without flames [https://img.wattpad.com/48a05ed7cb2df83cad0486d33320a06e45191757/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f796e626948336e4d2d77755652673d3d2d313330333531393738372e313733383366366238346134353963393632313937333531383036342e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
(The Falcon Hills are depicted in the story - but the Knights must be Mages/Wizards)
Ritchler: A sweet return from a bitter journey.
He emits a long, deep, sigh of relief when they arrived at the moor horizon of the Stone Alps.
Irene: This place was still the same before we fled years ago.
Ritchler: Yes I agree. I wish the people working for the Master of the Citizens never forced us to leave the place, but there's no other way to learn what we've learned.
The known City Farmer of Lordaeral and servant of the Stone Alps went home when all was said and done, but he knows he will never be a servant again to his own home. The rich pathways and sweet and brown molds of the world were like a wet symphony from the previous rain. The muddy pile makes it hard for them to cross over towards the monstrous statue gates, and so do Ritchler's companions as he squints behind him. Up in the Alps the plants grow slowly, plenty of which lucky for vegetation were stunted between waveforms of rocks and stones.
The living vitality glimmers in the ditch where the fountain falls as if the hearts of every human alive at the cold veiling walls were watching them about to enter. The House of the Alchemists is at the summit of the second-highest mountain of the Stone Alps, built before the coronation of the last known Ice Goddess of Crystalis. Three hundred and eighty-three years ago with the help of Sorcerers, Geomancers, and Afotros; the God of Fortress and Defense made an oath before her passing. He wiped out a land where the Goddess Ryleigh put down a mark of a radiating snowflake, it was rumored that the ice mark was like a Sun within the Crust that shed light across the globe for it to be easily found by her loyal followers and Oath-keepers. Upon her death, the enchanted house built by sorcery was completed to preserve what is withering at the point of their misery.
Irene: We've learned enough, we've sinned enough, they've made us worse enough to rebuild ourselves into our home.
Maverick: It is time to take back what is ours. Thank you, Ritchler, and sorry for what happened last time.
Ritchler: Alright...there is no need for us to talk about it. A pity if the Horse Lad saw us cry like little children wouldn't it?
The man in the vanguard mentioned the popular Master of the City, the half-man and half-horse of wit with pale irony. Hoping that he was never thrown out of his chamber full of strong ale and stank of excrement. Irene sang as soft and as aromatic as a lavender song, Maverick was weary but he got the strength to grant his friend a prizing respect after the false accusation of her wife. A shadow is but a messenger whispering through his ears like a shade upon the shining sun. The moment when his hands touched the cold hilt, he spoke a question to his heated heart. Suffering must end for him to escape hope to betray him, but how will it be when the artifact of life and death was never found?
Waiting and waiting, they were frozen still until the wizards atop the wooden towers allow them to step ahead, questioning what and why are they there below the steps. The group of three unmounts after they rode their horses up the stairs, and tied their lead ropes aside of the fence provided for watch cavaliers. The overpass that goes all the way to the threshold was glowing like a splintered ravine of an active volcano, cold but steaming with dark smoke.
Wostilare: You three...came a long way...to see your ends meet.
A female voice they heard, a sweet slow one as if they are intimate for a romantic desire. The cloak they wear still holds a mystery for many people who never lived or visited the Alps of the Alchemist, but Ritchler proved that the outcast of assuming evil resisted punishment by their powerful fate.
Estenix: The return...of the three sinned...looking for another apocalypse.
Their voices were melodic, harmonic as if it was coming from the stroke of the gods from a harp of gold.
Ritchler: Wow, it is still them who guards the house, the two uniquely brilliant twins of the Stone Alps. Well anyway. We never wish to bring trouble, my dear Lynxes, returning from the dirt after we've pushed away for so long. If it pleases you to welcome us to our home, we are grateful to know.
He beamed with pride and delightful humor, choosing by the looks and notice by the waving ears that were high, tufted, and hairy.
Wostilare: And why...would we do that?
Bowing low to make it secret until the bastard of the Liroy Family mentioned their fulfilled wishes. Wostilare and Estenix in a succession of the motion that lays upright their long cream-colored necks, their pointed nose to show, and their short heads to appear. The eye glowing Female Lynx Mages with furs of gray and cream was magnificent to see, apart from being falsely promoted by the town's people because of their primal power and descent. The reason for their wild instinct of using their magics to put fear in people's eyes was one of them, the rest never became public, undeterred by their shadows.
The reasoning of their wild instinct of using their magics to put fear upon people's eyes was one of them, the rest were never became public, undeterred by their shadows [https://img.wattpad.com/642ffe3e38a9fc73714a3925af0881b5f86ee940/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f2d3761543748554a436b304d2d673d3d2d313330333531393738372e313733396462646338333737323163633733393234313834393837352e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
(Lynx Mages depicted from the Books)
Ritchler stepped at the head of the line where the gate breaks the edge of the glowing pathway. He reached into his brown pouch covered with dry mud under his waist, grabbing the scroll with the gray seal for which he was grateful it did not fall off when they followed the trail at bursting speed. Leading his hand forward to the eastern watch with the King's word, but there was no plan for him to reach them that high. Gifted by the most basic yet relevant psychic ability, the scroll suddenly slipped from the clench of Ritchler's hands and then floated towards Estenix. Her ability to weave into nature's elemental forces made the scrolling stream into the current of casted matters without him reaching with his bare hands.
Estenix, the more feral-looking Half-Lynx with a smooth feminine voice, opened the scroll by melting the seal away from it.
Estenix:
A scroll for the Mistress of the Stone Alps.
Ritchler Liroy of the South is begging your pardon for his, and his folks' wrongdoings. From the day they were forced to heave out of the City, and through the return of their company. I, King Raven of Venalia, declare the pass of Ritchler as well as for the said names of Irene and Maverick. A sinned ironed folk of Lordaeral offered a debt that is being accepted from this day, until the end of their leaving. May the Gods and Goddesses above bless you the same.
King Raven Venalia of Reviathan
The fierce hooded cat face gazed at them one by one like the fire is still burning in front of their eyes, the said and done are still shaming.
Ritchler: So can we have the gates open or...do you want us to do something before it is done?
Wostilare: What do you think? Do you want us to open it or leave it like that?
Arachethel: Of course...Of course! You sure would be a part of us again. Open the gates my silly little Lynxes. Open it! Open it, please! We got an old visitor right here!
Then out of the void of silence after making the effort to sound unsure of the words coming from a piece of crumpled, and dirty paper. A screechy, small-toned but loud voice they overhear that even the horses behind them lashed a step for quite. Ritchler was about to release his dagger from the sheath, both the Lady and Lord for some they call, held each hand to tighten their defense of what is coming out of the illusionary gate. The person, or perhaps the non-humanoid entity behind the shielded waving realm seems to be knocking, but not of a knuckle and not of a height that they can reach.
The person, or perhaps the non-humanoid entity behind the shielded waving realm seems to be knocking, but not of a knuckle and not of a height that they can reach [https://img.wattpad.com/78e1e53eca3fb05bd6cd1cf5c096e15af0d03d5f/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f7738415652326a5f7239454e30513d3d2d313330333531393738372e313733623134386535366532386461333838353836323931393735382e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
The gates of illusion, slowly fade away, throwing out shades of symbols and sigils with various terrible colors. The symbols that they can never understand, some of them are levitating celestial beings that move like a massive wisp in the whipping wind. They never see something like those before, thus, thinking that there were new Mages hired by the Master to throw hints of their fate inside the city. The gates were in total veil, and there spew smoke that is in a reckless speed. Surfing out of the sky quickly, similar to a slithering wretch of the seas, and in their blinking eye was indeed a new, terrible, black, and massive mistress.
A big, bulging, black abdomen with spots of glowing purple swarmed with eight legs crawls quickly towards them. Irene panicked and screamed, Maverick used himself as a shield with arms swaying away from each other, but Ritchler stood there frozen with astonishment that he even gave a slight smile. Looking further atop the giant spider, there hung a beautifully curved body with its breast naked and muscles ripping within. Above curtained white hair and a hidden eye, behind an overgrown crown decorated with silver gemstones.
Above curtained a white hair and a hidden eye, behind an overgrown crown decorated with silver gemstones [https://img.wattpad.com/f0ed29c586971bc4a93efe42f03405e6c5563e6b/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f476d74655076494f41535f6856513d3d2d313330333531393738372e313733623135623363613364323265633237373838383337383830382e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
(Arachethel depicted from the books)
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Arachethel: I observed that your friends were frightened, are they not? Ohh, don't be so silly that you never saw me from the books?
Her voice was cunningly beautiful, persuasively following that it seems to be a joyful angel talking inside a gorgeous monster in front of them. She sound to mean the words more seriously than they sounded. While both of his folks turn their boot behind, near to walk away, Ritchler gave a time of his talking to admiration. The bold man wends his way to kneel before the majestic Mistress of the second mountain of the Stone Alps.
Arachethel: Oh Wow! A common one from the drylands as I see. I very, very, very thoroughly appreciate that royal kindness, but this crown was not worn to bend the knee at, let me tell you that straight, kind boy!
Ritchler: I saw many monsters before, from the books and all, but the drylands spew out more demons like the Badburns. But I believe, of course, it is better to worship those who are being themselves than people who pretend to be someone else.
Arachethel: Oh little Lord Ritchler of the South! We do not throw shade in here anymore. A new rule and order to be kind to one another. Right my Little Lynxes? Yes? hmm, Yes? Very good indeed, come now, the little Kingdom was waiting for you three.
Peeking from side to side to commend the Lynx Mages for their wonderful duties. Giving a nod and silence still grew on them, no words are coming out of their mouths after the Mistress gave way to show herself. Arachethel's prints of her eight feet sound to be sticking in the magma floor, disgustingly noisy they hear while ascending the stairs, and entering the portal-like gates they pursue. Ritchler remembered it all, from the time that he was a kid running away from playful baby werewolves with hind legs, and lovable eyes. And onto the days when the ground shakes from the giant festival bulls parading the city, running ceaselessly upon their pink flags hanging from their horns. A glimpse of the sky was magnificent for him as if he still can see the fireworks that the pyromancers shoot out above. The light seems to brighten when his chin lowered down the pathway. The world he took place in before was surged, huddled with cheerful playing children, and flowers of different kinds sprouted unbelievably within the clean rows of the three crossings.
He wondered what the Spider Mistress of the Stone Alps have done, whatever it is, the gorgeously freak-looking mistress deserve applause from many.
Ritchler: This...was very magnificent. I know yes, I know I came here but the changes made it so much better.
Arachethel: I see that you are a strong disciple of magic, especially what those imaginations can do to reality.
The bastard of the Liroy Family followed along the trails of Arachethel towards the further end of the street. The street he saw was structured plainly and smoothly, up and down as much as he can remember playing there in his childhood and scattered across the capital. The cloud was thick above when he gazed, behind him was the two lovers still clenched hard together, mesmerized and oddly suspicious by its phenomenal beauty. Both Yatars were merely changing their perspective of the strange ones being the ruler of a city, by which not all mortal beings with a sense of dazzling beauty can treat the same as its image.
At the greater distance, the capital he used to remember was no longer what he expected. A neat gold spire, drenched with white paint all over in an artful manner, encompassed with crowds of fairy habitats covered with bronze glitters, and many more enchantments left to discover.
A neat gold of spire, drenched with white paint all over in an artful manner, encompassed with crowds of fairy habitats covered with bronze glitters, and many more enchantment left to discover [https://img.wattpad.com/6a0e296d18e08b8675c6a921dc29db160859c913/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5a6873504f2d48454a432d4276773d3d2d313330333531393738372e313733623962333435336465366162643234313533333236333936302e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
(City Capital of the Second Stone Mountain, depicted in the story)
The capital was now colored black, lightened only by fireflies sized of a hand, housed in the same trees where the fairies took place years ago. It is soaked with dry roots of overgrown roots, which seems that the grandest tree atop the capital cribs itself.
Ritchler: The capital changed. Why is it dark now? And where are the fairies that used to live here?
Arachethel: My color schemes are different little Lord. Throughout the years I spin my webs right there! And there...and...here! Right there!
Two of the Freak Mistress's legs be shown pointing while circling herself quickly to polish the shadows she used to spit white silk which some of the kin and folks did not like at all.
Arachethel: Ashamed to think, I boiled, rinsed, and extracted the Black Petunia's pigment to assure the paint was pure indeed. Good God of the unworldly creatures! The others love it, such as I remember a man with a head of a sea lion who loves my art too much that he even took the black paint for himself.
There were no gates nor a guardian with two legs, and a parchment of metal to cover himself with any threat. Gliding along her webs for her babies to crawl, the Yatar couples were halted by the resting little spiders in the wall that Ritchler never noticed it was there. An army of hundred or not, thousands of small glowing spiderlings frozen on the surrounding trees made them discontinue their entry into the Castle. Ritchler turned his blind eye and deaf ear to them and proceeded his way toward the Capital entry.
Ritchler turned his blind eye and deaf ear to them and proceeded his way towards the Capital entry [https://img.wattpad.com/299dfb2688d759c0f1bd3b2d2d636db19840fbe4/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f584f4e395f324c35656338384e673d3d2d313330333531393738372e313733623963386132386431343034643833303033313930333636302e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
(The Tree Spiderlings acting as the Guardian depicted in the story)
The inner capital walls invited his inner soul to reinvent the culture of what he was used to seeing, every single day on their illusionary vacancy. It appears to be the same before he decamped the city. He absorbed the pathway onto its beloved scarlet brick wall, the kind of stone that reflect sunlight outside, and shelters the time of starlight during the night. The pot of flowers, ranging from tulips to lotus of different colors. And some cradle the harmful; the bloodroot and bleeding heart, just one touch of its sparking sap may melt one's skin off. The Brown moving plant is sized like a fist and has razor-sharp dorsal teeth, not only known to trap and poison an insect but tear and burst out the flesh from the ends of its bone.
Ritchler: The poisonous gales were still living, the capital gardeners are doing their job I suppose.
Against the deep part of the Capital's vanguard, he saw several hanging candelabras that twinkled in the shade of the interior's darkness, like a firefly amongst the forest of dusk. The floor was polished perfectly so that it seems to reflect every image that it repels to their naked eyes, and the pillars attached from it, and above the ceiling he saw soaring substantial. But he noticed the banners that were new to him, three banners with a single color but different sigils in between the candle beams.
Three of it shone a glossy color of white, typically of a Satin fabric weaved to symbolize the three Mountains of the south with a distinct figure identity atop of its peak [https://img.wattpad.com/b75f82060225d789ecf5468299144088c45cfac6/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5369774454656e61504f613852413d3d2d313330333531393738372e313733636130656434666462353866653939383333333835393835302e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Three of them shone a glossy color of white, typically of a Satin fabric weaved to symbolize the three Mountains of the south with a distinct figure identity atop its peak. The furthermost left mountain was hued with blue that is surrounded by brown pine trees, and atop the sharp summit was an impaled red sun cupped above the moon. The second banner in the middle which he assumed was the enchanted mountain that he was standing onto in the very moment. The black mountain was swarmed with purple weeping trees on its base. It appears to have a grim laughing face, a tall pointed yellow hat, and bat wings colored red. The last, the strangest, and the most confusing of them all made his curiosity burn by just looking at it.
It is strangely plain white, mainly outlined by black, but he saw a pink sheen where flesh has been removed from its bone, and the corpse was impaled with a long thick sword onto its mouth. Ritchler's eyes caught a glimpse of the newly designed banner, the weaving is not there before. There was no presence of a naked dead giant lying on the mountain in a heavenly white inselberg.
Ritchler: Uh...Uhm...What's your name again? My Lady Spider?
He led out a hand to reach, deeply seeking her identity after a moment's reflection on her peculiar form.
Arachethel: My name is Arachethel, Sir Ritchler. Lord Ritchler? Or else do you want me to address you as my King Ritchler?
The man sensed a little frustration after hearing his name several times, especially when her high voice was seemingly mocking his name, and she: playing with her little spiderlings carelessly listening to his question. He bit his lips inward and put away his eyes from her as though he copied her loss of desire of listening.
Ritchler: You can just call me Ritchler. My life doesn't get any better than that, it doesn't change anything with many blooded titles.
Arachethel: Alright...alright...I will take you through the council hall now. Haven't you heard of what happened here? There got so many blessings, people doubt me for those long years of ruling. Why am I the successor? If you are willing to ask me?
Their feet upon the steps twirl upward towards the grand hallway caved and carved with Northrom's Legends upon its time. Their legs long piercing the stairs as it was part of the City's precursor, every rapture of her legs sticking down the floor, hard enough to make it look like a pincushion.
The unshakeable riptides, the countless battles amongst men and unworldly creatures, the war upon the gods and goddesses, and between the angels and the fallen above the clouds. It was known by many, painted amid his walking as the four creators of the universe in the wall and the floor below. The beating of their glimmering hearts became a rhythm until the punisher of celestial dwelling reigns the peace, and turns it into a chaotic end to make the mortals suffer. All it is known to be rarely seen, not until Ritchler comes across the paintings within the right wall.
(Depiction of the 'Affray of the Artisan of the Universe' included in the Legends of 'When the Universe Collapsed') [https://img.wattpad.com/0018fa58bfbce1651cef5c54a6c498736ad6741b/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4d6264567a4645646767466373773d3d2d313330333531393738372e313733643934343862306136616332653335323833323835363730322e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
(Depiction of the 'Affray of the Artisan of the Universe' included in the Legends of 'When the Universe Collapsed')
When the Universe Collapsed, for a brief moment he remembered the book he finished in a Public Library. A distinct mix of unfailing shades of twilight and warmth of the sunshine, dwelled in a piece of undying paper caused many to wonder if going back in time was possible, for them to see the old fate of the future.
Arachethel: Lord Ritchler? Is there something you wanted to say about the paintings? You seem to be going on a nostalgic trip, or maybe you wanted to release something from your mind instead.
Ritchler: Who am I to disagree with? I am overwhelmed. I was just a boy when I first saw these paintings of the Second Mountain Artists. I was there during its time of making, a fascinating scene as I would say. Nineteen years I have been here, none of the colors fade away. Shame that we three got abolished from this beautiful city after an awful accident.
The Lady spider near the counseling door turned around, her demand to hear about the long news was surging, returning to hear the reason for their leave years ago.
Ritchler: I assume my Lady wanted to hear more.
Arachethel: Go on then, spill some.
Her body goes twirling and twisting, the abdomen was bulging and moving. He was intimidated by the curious smile and widened eyes, but her beauty above the rest of her body shone, and so he carried on with full confidence for her to know the truth.
Ritchler: The Accident took place right under this City Capital, as you know the alchemists took a stay underneath for ages. The clouds of memory of mine when Grand Master Morken was entering and leaving the cauldrons of light. It's his entryway to lead us all to his enchanting school of Wizardry and Sorcery, in the different parts of the mountain. He chooses to pick the place where accidents were never prone above the innocents. One day, that plan was left behind when two contaminants merged by someone, cloaked with black and nothing more. The Stale Mexiwater is used for biological matters. The other was the Gray Elixir containing a virus-like microorganism that Poisonmancers used to easily crawl into a person's skin and slowly die. It eventually exploded like a Volcanic eruption inside the Magic Chamber, but he was there standing frozen like it was nothing but pure hunger for chaos.
Arachethel: Then what happened next?
She tilted her head out of curiosity and wends her way closer as if she was growing bigger. Ritchler kept a frozen eye on her and stood still. His voice grew larger in a split moment, his face was blush and stern.
Ritchler: There are far more from me to judge by the others. I hate it when people make me feel bad after being good to them for a long time. I was one of the few great alchemists before that fabricates the longing potion spells throughout the cities, from Western Leagues, and to the East. The Garrick's and Egareth's Cestellrag Potion? The Crystal Shards within a ball of Glass, a powerful one that when you break it into the ground, it'll spread and that'll cause a raging ice storm. I won't mention all of it, but we who got eliminated in the Stone Alps were indeed a precious weapon against any enemies.
Arachethel: You're one of the great arsenals of the realm indeed.
Ritchler: Not I only, but Maverick and Irene too. Three of us were accused of the accident, and so we will suffer.
But then her tone shrinks to a low, as if her vocals were strummed from a golden harp. After the tale of their banishing, the revealed foregoing alchemist, including the two lovers behind that still shivers with fear, followed in anticipation of the changes being made unlike they have prevailed before. When they proceed to follow the remaining trace and vestige. The walls were merely moving, the swords wielding and spinning across the restless wind, the power enlightening like the sun above before the hands of the celestial beings.
Their fascination ends there and the darkness started to engulf them, so they moved on. Soon enough they saw the peeking light in the slightly opened door; it was the capital's main room where the Masters dwell. She mentioned late that the line of the alchemists should have been born again. Like the Moon, the darkness fulfills its purpose, and the sun rises again.