Remember the time of Stagnation
The years of moving back while all moved forward.
The pain of your people was more than clear
Yet not dissipated from bloody revolution to bloody revolution.
Now, not long after your people start to lift themselves from the mud,
A new force brings you and yours pain.
It was like a rabid wolf, killing all those not of their blood,
And you were but one sheep that was slain.
Your time, however, is not up yet.
You and yours know the stagnation, of the pain it can bring.
I now give you the power to stop it elsewhere, to save lives.
Let you be a force of unknown, terrifying yet lifesaving.
Now go, Lord of Terror.
A different horizon awaits.
Seven figures entered the large, circular room, only the outside of it at all fit to walk in. In its center was a pool of everlasting light, the one which these figures lived by the code of. It wasn’t one written, but they remembered it clearly. They each stood at the edge of that pool of light with the exception of a human girl who stood behind a fae. She glanced around, this being the first time she had been able to meet all of them, save for the fae, face to face.
Each of them were of one of the six races of Evra. Human, elven, dwarven, fae, orcish, and helyan, and all those present in this room were said to be the strongest of their races in Evra’s entirety. The Council of Peace, they called themselves. The ones who for hundreds of years had stopped the Lords of Terror, and one day that girl watching on as they gathered hoped to be one of them.
Yet any excitement at meeting them had been washed away forever ago, instead replaced with a pain that burned on her right hand. Looking down, she saw the curse she had been inflicted with mere days ago: the Sign of Fog. At least it was what she believed it to be. The sugar-sweet voice of the fairy drew her attention. While the exact words had not made it to her ears, she was more than aware of what they were asking. It was with no further words that the human girl and fae traded places in the room, and with fear in her heart she raised her branded hand to show an ethereal chain that pierced her skin.
“Halerosh, when you had sent me word that your own apprentice had been cursed with the sign, I was pleading for it to not be true,” Said Auldinia, the elven member of the Council of Peace. The girl recalled the stories she had heard about the elf, and how she had been granted a mystical bow from the forests of Manark to slay a Lord of Terror centuries ago. “I’m so sorry, dear Alexia. I know how painful the brand can be.”
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The human girl, Alexia, cursed herself. Here she was, wishing to one day stand among them, and one of them was pitying her. She turned her head backwards to Halerosh, the fae who she equated to a father figure just as much as she did a mentor. He gave her a nod, a reminder that she was equal among them in this room; there was no reason to ask for permission to speak. Clutching her branded hand and bringing it to her side, she smiled at Auldinia and spoke as if she was bearing no pain at all
“Nothing I can’t bear,” She told the elf. Her voice was raspy, far less refined than that of the purple dress she currently wore. “Though the rumors that it feels like a hundred needles slicing into your hand are extremely accurate.”
“Do you feel a calling in your head? A pull towards a destination or direction?” Diada, the helyan member of the Council, asked. She refused to meet his gaze, the echoing voice of all helyan’s leaving a burning rage in her as hot as the magma that was their blood. He noticed it straight away and turned to Halarosh instead. “I figured she might at least hear me out, but it seems the stories you tell bare fruit.”
“She’ll come around in time, Diada,” Halerosh assured the helyan. He and Alexia stood side by side at the edge of the pool of light. “For the new Lord of Terror to arrive so soon is odd. An oddity that we must address at the earliest opportunity.”
“Typically we wouldn’t know where they were until they started causing destruction,” Rashi, the orc council member, spoke. The deep, powerful, feminine voice put Alexia on edge, familiar with the stories of the warrior who had once slayed a Lord of Terror all by themselves. Her heart rate rose even more when said orc pointed to her. “This time though, the Lord of Terror was nice enough to give us a waypoint straight to them.”
“That is the purpose of the Sign of Fog after all: to guide those of like minds to the Lord to their side,” Alabaster, the human council member, replied. Alexia noticed the way he eyed her, the distrust he bore clear as day, and he had good reason to do so. “While it is true we have a waypoint, her having the sign makes her an enemy.”
“I shall resist the pain, the ache, the temptation of the foul man or woman that dares to try and manipulate me,” Alexia assured him, clenching her hands in a fist. She hated being treated like a threat by those she idolized, and the sheer difficulty of the task she was forced to promise. “When the time comes, I shall stand by you and bring them low. I won’t allow tradition and stability to be destroyed. Just know they have yet to use their power. I can’t give a hint as to where they are just yet.”
Alexia and Alabaster locked eyes, their wishes clearly differing and waiting to see who cracked first. A flare of pain in her arm made the former wince, but refused to stand down. She had only allowed the pain to overwhelm her once: the moment that it had appeared on her hand. She did not care how long she had to lock eyes with him, for she would prove she had the strength to endure this pain.
“Leave her be Alie,” The dwarf spoke, shifting the attention of both Alexia and Alabaster to him. Galhawk was the dwarves' name, and someone Alexia hated to admit she did not know enough about. He was among the council though, meaning he was someone for his foes to no doubt fear. “I believe this is the perfect test for the girl. If she is truly training to take your place, then let her show she has the strength to endure.”
Alabaster’s expression turned sour, a hand over where his lungs were. Alexia couldn’t be too sure what it was exactly, but something was coursing through the man’s mind. She would not dare ask; Halerosh had warned her about the man’s trauma and history. Instead she smiled at the dwarf, but they ignored her.
“I won’t let you down, I promise,” She told council, courage welling up in her being.
“Let us hope so, not for our sake but for your own,” Auldinia said. Her words were as dour as the face of the human she stood next to. “The Lord of Terror will be fierce, they always are. For one so bright as you to be taken by them, it would be horrible.”
Alexia was more than aware of the fire she was playing with, of what she was promising. She was sure that, had she been anyone else, the words were nothing but overconfidence and blind courage. Thankfully, she was the apprentice of one of the members of the Council of Peace, and she would not only succeed in her duties but be remembered for them. After all, that was all the girl truly wanted in her heart: for her odd existence to not be a small blip in the larger course of history.