Xerion rushed through the streets of Virsha on tired legs, one of his arms busy securing the pieces of his armor.
His breastplate now rested comfortably above his martial robe. It was made of leather, with a few bits of metal attached to key places to protect his vital points. Despite the unyielding nature of the materials used in its creation, it didn’t impede his movements nor reduced his flexibility by much.
Below his armpit lay his helmet, an ugly yet necessary thing. It’d take a fool to not defend the most crucial area of their body. The loss of an arm might be tragic, but the loss of the head would mean nothing, for the dead care little about the matters related to those of fleshy make.
Brown and surprisingly comfy boots allowed him to move at speeds startling for one as exhausted as him. Dirt barely clung to their surface, as step after step carried him ever closer to his destination.
A miniature wolf rested on his shoulders, cute little claws extending and grabbing onto the cloth available there. The pup’s mist-like fur and golden aura seemed to flow like a wave as wind struck its form, which granted a bit of a majestic flavor to the hound’s appearance.
Ether’s companion didn’t look nearly as grand, with his eyes filled with moisture as a result of the sharp air assaulting their surface, and with the paleness apparent on his normally beige complexion. Nevertheless, he pushed on, as the choice of whether to go or not was a done deal.
Xerion passed through the gate that separated the fourth ring of the city from the fifth one, marveling at the thickness of the walls connected to it. With a breadth of over fifteen paces, this construction was of truly colossal size.
And yet, beasts or other evils managed to overcome this barrier at some point. Not that anyone told him such, but he could connect the dots. This fortification showed none of the signs of age present on the ancient buildings in Virsha’s administrative district, which led him to a simple conclusion: they must’ve been destroyed and rebuilt later on, after the Dawn of the Dark. Possibly multiple times.
He shook his head. Unimportant thoughts. Curiosity was all well and good, but his feelings started to slowly drift into the realm of concern. He’d let himself worry about potential existential threats to his city, but only after gaining enough strength to become a pillar of its defense, not an insignificant pipsqueak like right now.
On both of his sides lay a barren wasteland of dirt and little else. The terrain rose and fell, hills arising from out of nowhere in some places, while others held rows and rows of trenches dug into the earth. This was a killing ground, an area readied to deal with any future invaders.
Xerion dashed across the only road present here and looked around. His childhood escapades brought him to this ring many a time through the years, and he fondly recalled his plays of acting as a mighty warrior, the last being standing in the path of a rampaging monster. Oh, his victories against it were sweet indeed, and Maria made sure to tease him plenty about it by calling him the “little hero.”
A blush crept onto his cheeks, one that departed but a second later as a thought struck him. He was a Practitioner now, a person responsible for the well-being of Virsha and its residents. It didn’t lay outside the realm of possibility that a duty might fall onto his shoulders, a need for him to sacrifice his life to protect the many.
The chance of his death added tiny frosty flakes to his previously warm memories, and he could’ve sworn a faint coppery tang made its way to his nostrils then.
Xerion focused, discarding all those useless, intrusive voices echoing on repeat in his mind.
Not a minute had passed since he crossed under the gate when a streak of blue appeared on the horizon. He thought it conjured by his overeager imagination at first, but that dot of azure grew and grew, until he recognized it for what it was.
One of the members of Team Hylkiö, Philip Järvi Širdis.
The man sauntered in the direction of their meeting point, seeming to not be burdened by any of life’s many worries. His leisurely gait was steady, mechanical even, as he walked with his eyes fixed not on the road or the distance, but on the floating stream of water. It circled his head and torso, sometimes jumping into the air and twirling as if to show off its tricks before an audience.
Xerion ran over to him, sweat dripping down his body. He opened his mouth, but instead of saying a greeting, he prioritized getting more of that sweet, beautiful air into his lungs.
“Hello there,” Philip said, one of his arms exiting his pocket and tousling his already messy sky-blue hair. “Tough morning, eh?”
“You’ve got no idea,” he replied, panting. “I damn near gave myself a heart attack rushing here.”
“What for?”
“Aren’t we about to be late?”
Philip waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “Don’t you worry; they won’t leave without us.”
“If you say so,” Xerion said, skepticism evident in his voice. “I’d still prefer to be on time. Don’t want to make a bad impression on the team.”
The man snorted with laughter, his watery tentacle climbing down his arm and slithering around his fingers. “They’re probably more worried what you will think of them, than the other way round. If you want to present yourself all nice and stuff, I can give you a quick wash?”
The azure liquid seemed to tremble in response to his words, what worked as its head jumping into the air and fixating its non-gaze on Xerion. The boy gulped.
“Uh, no… wait. Ah, why not? Blast me.”
Philip grinned as if his life revolved around such moments. Ice-cold water smashed into Xerion’s face and chest, enough power behind it to take him off his feet and let him fly for a second.
Despite his exhaustion, he managed to catch himself before faceplanting into the ground. As he rose to his full mediocre height, he sent a glare filled with irritation at his team member.
The man shrugged. “Oops. I’m used to playing with Duene, so I overdid it by a tad. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said and tried very hard to mean it. The wrathful growl coming from his shoulder, however, held no forgiveness.
Xerion turned his head to his companion, the Spirit, the wolf of white and golden aura. Its ever-flowing fur stood on end, tiny arcs of power skipping through it, which made the pup look like a miniature, living thundercloud. He petted it.
“You know, I expected you to ask about Ether by now.”
Philip shrugged again. “Eh, I figured you were waiting for the whole team, or just didn’t feel like talking about it.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Sure, but aren’t you curious?”
“Not really,” he replied, and Xerion was too stunned by the response to continue the conversation.
The party of two gained a new member, the speed of their passage slowing to accommodate the addition. Little was said between them as they walked, the silence broken only once, when the oldest of the trio complimented the outfit of the blonde-haired boy.
Xerion smiled at the words, but his grin became strained after he noticed their clothes matched both in make and color. This man’s fixation on all things blue was… peculiar, to say the least.
As they crested a particularly high hill, the wall came into their sights. Breath would hitch and knees grow weak in every soul blessed with witnessing this leviathan of stone and magic.
Hundreds of paces tall, it stretched from horizon to horizon. Arcane markings dotted its surface, speaking of essence workings of untold complexity. What added to its gravitas was the dome, the construct created by the Pillars to stop the void from encroaching any further. The wall was its endpoint, beyond which only darkness reigned.
The sound of whimpering broke him out of his stupor and shifted his attention to his furry companion. That ball of fluff leaned against his neck, its snout raised high as if to show that fear held no place within this mighty wolf. Its efforts to appear brave were hampered by its slightly trembling form, however.
The group’s journey drew to a close, as tiny figures standing below that colossus showed them their destination.
The descent brought comfort to Xerion’s aching legs, but it didn’t last. Just the thought of climbing that wall sent sharp pangs of hurt running through his muscles. A bit of hope remained in his heart, however, for this place to have some contraption capable of getting them to the top, as unlikely as that was.
In no time at all, Team Hylkiö was finally assembled, almost ready to depart for a mission with their new member.
Vaikus was the first to greet him, sending his way a two-fingered salute and an easygoing grin. The giant’s armor and shield looked almost as imposing as the stone construct behind him, while his glorious beard even surpassed its majesty.
His eyes still held that otherworldly serenity, as if the destruction of the whole of existence couldn’t create a single ripple in those peaceful pools.
Xerion’s mentor spoke as soon as the trio neared.
“How nice of you to join us, at last. Truly, I was beginning to suspect the void to have sneaked past our defenses and got to you two. What awful things such thoughts did to my poor heart.”
“Can’t you chew them out later, love?” Duene said, skipping from foot to foot, the knuckles of her palm white from gripping her sword’s hilt. “We should get going. Like, now.”
Nadia sighed, shooting a glance full of annoyed acceptance at her paramour. “No, my dearest, I cannot. If a reprimand isn’t delivered on time, its subjects might fail to understand its purpose.”
“Hi all,” Philip cut in, waving at everyone present with his floating stream of water, then pointing it at the boy beside him. “Sorry for being late. This guy slowed me down.”
Xerion spluttered, his face turning red from indignation at what he just heard. Before he had the chance to defend himself, the blue-haired man continued.
“Nah, I’m joking, I’m joking. It’s my fault. Won’t happen again.”
“You always say that,” Nadia said in a harsh tone. “Don’t go corrupting our newest member. We can’t have another one prone to such irksome antics.”
His mentor looked him over, and her gaze rested on Ether after a moment. “And what’s that? You went and did something silly, didn’t you?”
Xerion grabbed the pup from his shoulder and raised it high, the tiny wolf releasing the cutest of roars in response. A faint vision flashed across his eyes – of standing on a cliff and of a multitude of animals bowing to the majesty of this cub – but it passed too fast to glean anything of import from it.
“This is Ether,” he said. “A Spirit, and my companion. Think of it as any other essence-endowed beast, but smarter, stronger, and better in every way.”
“Smaller too,” Duene commented.
Xerion glared at the pink-clad woman, but she thought nothing of it, as always. As irritating as her careless words could often be, they did have their upsides. To listen to her conversations with the Grand Elder was a treat for the ages, for example.
“Good, good,” Nadia said, one of her hands rubbing at her Totems. “Another resource. Excellent. Thinking of going the same route as your teacher, hmmm?”
“Ether isn’t a resource!” he snapped out, waves of anger instantly flooding his mind. “It’s my friend, and if you think to use it like one of your slave beasts, think again.”
“Wow, wow!” his mentor said, raising her arms in a placating gesture. “No offense was meant, but clearly some was taken. The wolf is yours, and I won’t interfere in how you work with it.”
She continued, her tone falling flat. “But do not yell at me, boy. I deserve better. Disrespect me a few more times, and you’ll be out of the team.”
“I…,” Xerion said then stopped, a bit of clarity returning to his head. “Uh, I’m sor—"
“Save it,” Nadia said and waved her palm. “Don’t apologize. Reflect on your actions. And please, think carefully if I earned your hostility before showing it.”
The boy shut up, properly chastised. He was just so tired, and feeling insanely protective toward the pup. The ability he created held not a word speaking of such, yet he knew some mental effect had to be at play, for he fell in love with this furry ball the second it entered his sights. And his teacher was right; she didn’t deserve his instant mistrust.
Ether tried to lick at his face, but he sent an ask to his companion to let him be for a while. A bit of retrospection would do him good. The puppy listened to his request, though it did share its want for a tasty treat, and he happily supplied it with a copious amount of essence.
Xerion’s musings came to an abrupt halt as a jovial voice dispersed the thick atmosphere.
“Anyone brought extra jerky? I forgot mine,” Philip said, scratching at his messy hair. “Uh, and the waterskin, too.”
“Bet you didn’t forget to put on some blue briefs on your ass, though,” Duene said conversationally.
“That is true,” the water manipulator agreed, nodding. “I prefer going commando, so that’s never a problem.”
“And with that lovely image in mind, let us depart,” Nadia announced.
There was, of course, no contraption waiting to take them to the top of the wall, just endless stairs.
Xerion’s soul almost cried at fate’s unjust nature as he saw Duene ignore the stairway, positively explode with power, and run up the hundreds of paces of vertical rock. He’d attain a realm capable of such in time, but not today, and that was enough to break his spirits.
His mentor came to the rescue, walking over and handing him enchanted equipment necessary for their foray. Those items were little more than trinkets – a bottle and a backpack with workings to store more than their size suggested – but they allowed him to feel like a true Practitioner, one about to face danger and adventure in equal measure.
Not only that, but she also gave him an Unattuned Essence Stone and a potion meant to restore his vigor. Both worked wonders, not completely restoring him to his normal state, but close enough for him to not be a burden during their upcoming mission.
And then they arrived at the top of the wall.
Xerion took a moment to carve into his memories the majesty and brutality of Virsha’s fifth ring, as viewed from this height. Deep scars in the earth filled that place, as if titans in ages past fought battle after battle here, irrevocably damaging the landscape. Most of all, this seemed like a good spot to die – surrounded by dirt, desolation, and nothing else.
Beyond it, far, far in the horizon, the barrier to the fourth ring could vaguely be seen. His home. His heart swelled with emotion as he thought of Maria staying there, wondering what would happen to him in the Void Lands. His mother was probably worried too.
He sighed and turned, witnessing what lay on the other side.
Utter nothingness.
Darkness so thick, mortal eyes would perceive it as the end of existence. He walked to its edge, pushed his arm into it, and saw it disappear. How fascinating that was.
An armored hand yanked him backward, a stern gaze reminding him of the folly of his actions. Yes, he knew he shouldn’t do that, for the corrupting influence of the void could twist hearts, minds, and flesh like little else.
Xerion breathed in deeply, then activated [Sentinel’s Embrace] and [Penetrating Gaze of the Sorrowful].
First, that faceless protector materialized behind him, its big, scarred palms hugging him and leaving a layer of protection on his body. It felt warm on his skin. Then his pupils split in twain, one of them gaining a noticeable golden sheen.
Tears filled his eyes, some produced as the result of using his ability, and some because of the lands he was now capable of seeing.
A canyon of depth similar to the wall’s height separated the city of Virsha from the rest of the world. Vague shadows moved in silence in its confines, predators waiting for those daft enough to descend to their hunting grounds.
Everything beyond the safety of the spot in which he currently stood looked eager to devour him whole. Xerion gulped and backed off by a step, while Ether whimpered in distress. Then a giant palm landed on his shoulder.
Vaikus smiled at him and shifted his arm to pat him on the back. Those gestures spoke of reassurance, of a journey full of comrades ready and willing to support each other. They told him that all would be okay, and whether it was foolish or not, he believed that to be true.
And then the armored man pushed him over the wall.