The faint, cool breeze gently whistling through the window began to stir the sleeping figure awake, stiff muscles subconsciously reaching for a blanket that wasn’t there. Slowly, the familiar sounds of home enticed the Stygian to begin the slow process of returning back to the realm of the awoken.
As she opened her eyes, the first thing Nya noticed was the dark grey, chiselled stone ceiling above her, with several faint lights to illuminate the cavern. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her vision before she realised that she was lying in the Healing Caves.
She was home.
Nya tried to get up from the stone slab she had been lying on. Her muscles felt rough and sore as she groaned in pain, before she heard a familiar voice echo from nearby.
“Nya. How do you feel?”
“Rena?” the Stygian asked as she redoubled her efforts and got up, closing her eyes as a ripple of pain erupted from her heavily bandaged chest. “I’ve been better…”
“You’re lucky to be alive,” her friend chided her as the Vulsta moved into view. “You overextended yourself again.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Nya growled in anger, before she took a deep breath and calmed herself down, rhythmically breathing in and out as she began to feel more alert. “How bad?”
“Grandmaster Ilvella led the efforts to heal your body,” Rena calmly informed her. “You won’t be able to return to your other half for a while, but your cover is intact. However, rumours of Devil’s Daughter’s death have been circulating, and Svaartal claimed your staff. I believe it’s now in the hands of his Drow masters.”
“Shit!” Nya cursed as she slammed a fist into the wall in anger, immediately regretting it. “I need to get it back.”
“You need to approach this with a clear mind,” Rena slowly explained, and Nya quickly realised that she was right. “From what Grandmaster Ilvella has been led to believe, you picked a fight with Svaartal and lost in single combat. Facing both him and House Mal’Kar would be much worse, especially if you are caught by the Drow…”
“I have a ritual I can use to make things easier to get it back,” Nya argued before sighing. “But you’re right.”
“The Grandmaster is displeased,” Rena then added. “He wanted to speak to you the moment you awoke.”
“Of course he does.” Nya sighed as she tentatively cast a quick spell to block out the pain. “He doesn’t know what I saw.”
“What happened?” Rena asked curiously. “Why would you attack Svaartal in the middle of a defence against the Klowns?”
“I saw the staff, Rena.” Nya looked at her friend unblinking. “The one from Grandmaster Ilvella’s memories. I underestimated that bastard Svaartal, but I had to act!”
“By the gods…” Rena gasped. “No wonder you went after him!”
“Svaarti had the staff.” Nya groaned as she tried to stand up, with Rena supporting her. “And Svaartal had the sword. There’s no doubt about it that I found the weapons of our Saviour.”
“We need to get you to the Grandmaster, now,” Rena told her in a tone that allowed for no debate. “He questioned me extensively about Svaartal, I don’t know what his plans are.”
“Alright. Let’s take the scenic route.” Nya grunted as she began moving. “I can get another staff from my quarters on the way to the Monastery. I can’t walk like this and I need the fresh air. The Healing Caves can only help me so much.”
“Of course.” Rena nodded as she supported her friend, walking out of the empty cave into a chiselled corridor that branched off to other similar healing chambers, though from the look of things they were not currently in use. Either a significant amount of time had passed since the Klown attack, or more likely they had remained undetected. They were a few hundred miles from Naganai, after all…
Walking out of the cave entrance and stopping for a moment, Nya took a moment to take in the view as the light of the day warmed her face.
Deep in the heart of the uncharted wilderness and far from any known civilization, their hidden monastery had flourished over the years. The primarily Stygian community had been blessed with an abundance of natural resources and excellent land for cultivation that had allowed them to thrive in their isolated existence.
Not to mention its great beauty.
The centrepiece of their hidden community was the magnificent waterfall that cascaded down from the cliffs above, providing a constant source of freshwater and creating the soothing ambience that dominated the local atmosphere. Both Rena and Nya had spent many a childhood afternoon swimming and fishing in the lake formed underneath, which fed into a winding river that snaked all through the heart of their enclave, providing the vital source of nourishment for the local farmland.
Grandmaster Ilvella had discovered the location shortly after fleeing the Demonfire War, following the Stygian Awakening with several of his followers, and had been the master of this place since, bringing in many Stygians and other like-minded individuals over the years before moving to more lofty ambitions.
The valley below was a hub of activity, as groups of monks went about their daily chores, either cleaning, tending to the gardens or fishing along the river. Several more figures nearby sat in quiet, deep meditation at prepared spots along the path downwards to the river below, who the two girls passed without comment, not wishing to disturb them.
“No doubt we’ll be joining them soon,” Nya quipped to Rena. “Though you’ve always been far better at that than I have.”
“I have always known that the way of the monk has been my calling,” Rena pointed out. “Ever since Grandmaster Ilvella found and adopted me into the monastery as a child, I knew I wished to follow in his footsteps.” The Vulsta then gave Nya a rare smile. “Besides, at least one of us has to keep a clear mind.”
“True.” Nya shyly smiled back as they slowly walked down the pristine slopes. “I guess I’ve always been more focused on my sorcery, but I do try.”
“The Grandmaster seeks perfection in all of his students,” Rena told her, as she had done many times before. “But-”
“But perfection is impossible, so he seeks to make us the best version of ourselves.” Nya finished for her with an uncharacteristic smirk. “Believe it or not, but I have learned a few things here.”
Making it to the bottom of the slope, they passed a monk who was lighting incense at one of the well-maintained shrines, giving them a quick greeting as they made their way to their quarters. Sliding the thin door open to her room, Nya quickly grabbed some warm robes to put over her bare, bandaged skin from a freshly laundered pile one of the monks had left for her. Then she went to a nearby cupboard that was adorned with ancient patterns that she had recovered while on a mission. Though she could likely select one of the staves from the Monastery armoury, she had kept a few spares for herself. Passing by a gnarled tree branch that had been used by a militant druid that had targeted innocent farmers, and a pale white staff that she had recovered from the vault of a corrupt executive, she eventually settled on a rod of red crystal which hummed with power as she took it from its stand. With a thought she activated the innate power of the staff, witnessing the powerful magic changing the colour to purple, then to blue, then back to red.
It was far more than just a fancy colour scheme….
“This will even the odds for next time,” Nya grimly whispered.
“Is that the one you took from the Malificar?” Rena asked, sounding worried. “That tried to bind a Nazraji?”
“Yes.” Nya nodded grimly. “I can use it for now. It will require me to adapt my style but I think I may be stronger for it. Versatility is Svaartal’s strength. I must match it with my own next time I face him.”
“As you say.” Rena nodded, patting the Stygian on the shoulder with a yellow paw. “I imagine you will wish to train with it as well?”
“Yes.” Nya nodded as she steadied her thoughts. “There is so much riding on me to be successful, I have to be ready.”
“Shall we see the Grandmaster now?” Rena prompted.
“No putting it off any more.” Nya sighed, composing herself. “Let’s go.”
The two quickly left their living quarters, pacing purposefully down the dirt path to where it met the main linear path of ancient cobblestone, turning towards the waterfall that overlooked the main monastery complex built into the side of the cliff, an extensive network of chambers that dwarfed their surface territory. Just outside there was a well-treated courtyard that usually served either as a ‘town square’ or as the Grandmaster’s ‘classroom’ on good days.
Right now, however, several of the masters were conducting smaller classes with groups of younger students, either guiding them through weapons training or harnessing their sorcerous power against several targets. Waiting for a gap to appear, the two crossed the courtyard and passed the open gates of the complex.
Though both had entered the building many times, they could not help but feel the sense of awe and reverence upon entering the huge entryway. All throughout the building, channels of water were flowing freely along the sides of the rooms, and directly in the centre, criss-crossing to eventually flow down to the lake outside, creating a calming and tranquil atmosphere that was perfect for meditation. As the weather outside was clear and warm, the entrance chamber was empty of classes and prayers, allowing the two to slowly make their way to the Grandmaster’s Office, occasionally meeting a junior monk who was cleaning along the way.
Eventually, they found themselves at a thick set of intricately carved wooden doors depicting scenes from ancient religious texts that predated their community. They reached the heart of the monastery, the personal chambers of the Grandmaster. Nya reached out a hand to knock, but before she could a voice from within called, “Enter Nya. Rena, remain outside.”
As Rena bowed to the voice and turned to guard the chambers from eavesdroppers, Nya tentatively opened the door and respectfully walked in.
In the centre of the small room, there was a desk, carved from a single slab of blood-red crystal that had already been present when Grandmaster Ilvella first discovered the monastery, and was large enough to accommodate the many books and scrolls that the Grandmaster used in his constant studies. Behind the desk, there was a tall, ornate chair, upholstered in rich red velvet and adorned with silver trim.
Though many monasteries discouraged a materialistic existence, and insisted that adherents to their Path lived a simple lifestyle, Grandmaster Ilvella did not abide by that philosophy himself, considering it unnatural and unrealistic. He taught that it was only natural to become attached to material possessions, and that many of the greatest powers in the galaxy utilised opulence as a valid tool to command respect in negotiations and shadow work. He did, however, warn his students not to let the lust of desire consume them, and that a perfect balance was to have possessions, but not to let them possess you.
To the left of the desk was a large bookshelf that Nya knew was filled with ancient tomes and manuscripts that taught rare and forgotten techniques that the Grandmaster had discovered. The shelves were meticulously organised, and the Stygian knew that Grandmaster Ilvella often reread the contents as if trying to sift every last drop of knowledge from their contents.
On the right side of the room was where the Grandmaster sat in a meditation circle, several scented candles burning brightly all throughout the room. At first glance it would appear that the Grandmaster was relaxed, but Nya knew that behind all the grandfatherly demeanour was a highly potent, sharp and calculating intellect that knew few rivals.
Nya quietly strode forward, knowing what was expected, before sitting down cross-legged in front of her master and closing her eyes. As her astral form rose out of her body to meet that of her master, her thoughts immediately turned to what had happened that night.
“Rena has told me much,” the venerable Stygian told Nya in a cold tone. “However, I would witness your memories of the event itself, and the context leading up to it.”
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“Yes, Grandmaster.” Nya quickly nodded as the astral form of her master reached out and placed a hand on her forehead. She tried not to recoil in pain as Grandmaster Ilvella scoured through her mind and absorbed her memories of the events. Though much had deteriorated, she would hide nothing.
“I see.” Her master finally nodded. “Yes, this confirms Rena’s account, but I wished to clarify several details. The Outsider saved you after you were able to teleport away. You were right to alert me of him the moment you first encountered him. He’s one to watch.”
“He is a good person, Master,” Nya added. “We could-”
“No.” Ilvella dismissed. “While he is not necessarily our enemy he is dangerous and unpredictable. The Cult of the Destroyer even thought he was their prophesied Hero. Although fortunately it appears that they were mistaken. I must say I was surprised when he was able to see through my Obfuscation, even though Rena informed me of his ability to see her during the attack. Retain your cover and continue to monitor him for now. If you can get closer to him and his friend group without compromising yourself, do so.”
“As you say Grandmaster,” Nya bowed. “I already consider them friends anyway.”
“However, the more pressing issue…” Ilvella continued. “You were right about the staff, it belonged to our Saviour. Seeing the sword too confirms it.”
Nya nodded in acknowledgement, knowing her master was not finished.
“However, despite that, you were reckless.” His voice was cold, but angry. “You are meant to be a symbol for the Stygian people to rally behind, and you were defeated! Publicly! The galaxy despises us! Many of us can’t cope with the freedom we were given, and some even went straight back to the mindless beasts that we were before we were all saved!”
Nya kept her head bowed. She had heard this many times before.
“We are here to build and secure the existence of our species, Nya, and Devil’s Daughter is vital to that goal. You are to be a hero blessed by a god that will be born to shelter our species, continuing a noble legacy.” He bowed his head. “I will not see everything she fought for be for nothing.”
“The Saviour…”
“Yes,” Ilvella replied sadly. “It was by her hand that your staff was made, binding the fragments of the shattered Demon Core of Azazel, Lord of Torment and our hated creator into an artefact entrusted to my safekeeping, and bestowed upon you, my finest student.”
“I’ll get it back.” Nya nodded with determination.
“Yes, you must get it back in time,” Ilvella agreed. “But in the right way. If the staff is left for too long in the wrong hands there may be disastrous consequences, but moving too soon may be even worse.”
The Grandmaster paused for a moment, as if considering something.
“That Nirah that defeated you. I know nothing of them for sure aside from your memories, and they never even hinted at his skill level. I do not blame you for your defeat.” He sighed, though Nya suspected he was hiding something from her. “You may go for now. I will call a conclave tonight. Everyone is to attend. I have shown you all many tales of our ‘Saviour’ over the years. It’s time you all know my full story of what happened that night.”
*****
Nya had spent her time over the next few hours pondering those words as she completed her homework and recovered her strength. What had changed? Her master had shared many memories of his adventures with the Savior and her retinue, but Nya had always felt like it had been curated, like he placed her on a pedestal and wouldn’t allow any negativity to surround her image.
She and Rena sat cross-legged among the several hundred or so acolytes in the main courtyard of the monastery, waiting for the Grandmaster to complete his ritual. All Stygians were present, with only a few of the community of other species missing to stand guard with summoned creatures.
The sharing of memories was an important tradition established by Grandmaster Ilvella, as a way to foster culture and camaraderie with the Stygians he was able to convince to join him, eventually extending it to the rest of his students, though Nya knew it also unofficially served as a security measure. Though every student was present, even the littlest ones were disciplined and silent, and it felt as if the very air itself stilled the moment his Second, Master Merrin, lifted her hand to call for order.
“Students,” Grandmaster Ilvella began, sitting cross-legged and facing them all, flanked by the other masters. “Long have I shared many memories with you, helping to guide your growth into the exceptional individuals you are today. Today, I am going to show you a story I have kept from you until now. Perhaps I should have shown you from the start, however it is a memory that pains me to this very day. Though I have been your master for many years, and shown you much, I haven’t shown you the moment we defeated Azazel, Lord of Torment, and what happened after.”
He took a deep breath.
“You know her as ‘The Saviour’ because ultimately, that is who she is to all of us. However, to me, a Firstborn, possibly the first among our kind to achieve both sapience and free will while under the thrall of Azazel through the discipline and willpower I now train you all in, she was the first person to place her trust in me when she had no reason to do so. She was my dearest friend who saved me from being killed immediately on sight by the Red Legion, and ultimately led to me following the Path and helping her defeat Azazel and freeing the rest of our people.”
He paused for a moment as he let his words sink in.
“Svaarvali was an exceptional woman, strong in both magic and might, but her greatest strength was her kind soul. She always wanted to help whoever she could and make lives better for everybody. It was only a matter of time before she was chosen as an active Hero by Astara, the Goddess of Justice, undergoing the Rite of Heroism and leading the efforts to eliminate Azazel once and for all.”
Ilvella smiled as he recalled the memory, as a tear ran down his eye.
“We were successful.”
Extending a hand, the area around Nya shimmered and faded away, as the Grandmaster revealed his memory to his students.
Accompanied by feelings of deep, primal fear and unease, a cavern of volcanic rock was revealed, softly illuminated by a foul red glow ahead. The air was thick with the putrid stench of decay, and the sounds of tortured cries echoed throughout the foreboding chamber.
The sound of heavy footsteps approached, as a towering figure emerged from the shadows - a grotesque demonic creature with bulging muscles and twisted bird-like wings. Its three crimson eyes gleamed with malice as its sharp maw gnarled into a wicked smile.
“Impressive that your impudent Legion made it this far and was able to distract my Core Guardians,” the beast growled. “Though that will not save you from me.”
“You think so highly of yourself!” a confident voice challenged, and Nya could make out the confident, grinning figure pacing forward without fear. “I have made it through your dungeon and defeated your horrors. This is the end for you, Azazel! The Red Legion has defeated you and your forces!”
The helmetless Nirah was clad in radiant, crimson-scale heavy armour that did little to impede her movements. Many magical effects shimmered around her, and she was ready for battle! With an assured wave of her arms and a cocky grin she summoned her Golden Staff and Spellstriker Sword, one in each hand.
“My forces are expendable and I already have what I need from this plane of existence,” Azazel snarled. “You’re too late.”
“I’m sure my friends and I would love to hear your extensively prepared monologue while your Guardians shit themselves coming to your rescue…” Svaarvali daringly smiled with dangerously narrowed eyes. “But I think we’d rather shut you up for good.”
Blinking forward in a charge, Svaarvali lunged forward to meet the Demon Lord at close range as Nya saw a younger Grandmaster Ilvella and several others spread out to surround them. Two of the companions went straight for the source of red light, but were suddenly cut off by a mass of black tentacles that quickly ensnared and tore them to pieces.
“It’s another Core Guardian!” one of the companions yelled out, lurching back and stepping onto a pressure plate, sending a flurry of black arrows to cut them down before they even realised the danger. Another tentacle lashed out at Ilvella, but the monk leapt up into the air with a spin, avoiding the attack and countering with a powerful strike infused with magic, blasting the tentacle apart with kinetic force.
“Boriah!” Svaarvali yelled as she levelled the Golden Staff at Azazel’s chest. The cone of cold smashed into the Demon Lord in a devastating strike and sent him stumbling back, before he quickly regained his footing.
The two combatants circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move. Suddenly, the Demon Lord leapt forward with incredible speed as Svaarvali quickly dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack as she retaliated with a forceful slash of her sword, tearing a gaping slice through one of the wings as the beam of energy continued through and severed another at the base. Roaring in a blind rage, Azazel charged and swung wildly with its claws, smashing into the cavern wall as Svaarvali blinked away just in time before following through with a wicked swipe at the ankle of the Demon Lord.
Now hobbled, the Demon Lord lashed out with his own magic, sending a fork of chain lightning at Svarvali who cried out as she absorbed the blow, before the bolts of electricity jumped and smashed into two of her nearby companions, striking them dead.
Roaring in righteous anger, Svaarvali lashed out with a barrage of magical attacks, sending several fireballs smashing into the hulking form, flinging chunks of nearby rock out into the air. Now that the Demon Lord was staggered, Svaarvali’s instincts kicked in as she raised her staff and sword, focusing all of her energy and willpower into a single, devastating spell. A beam of dark ice shot out from the tip of her staff, striking the Demon Lord in their already wounded chest. Azazel howled in agony as the ice solidified into a spear that pinned them in place, as powerful magics drained them of more and more energy…
“Destroy the Core!” a voice of one of their companions yelled as the sounds of portals could be heard, bringing more and more enemies into the room.
They would not survive much longer…
Blinking and dashing forward as fast as she could, Svaarvali slashed out with her sword, striking down any enemy that tried to impede her path towards the dark red light ahead. Imps and gargoyles desperately tried to hold her back as Azazel roared, putting all of his strength into smashing apart the Ice Lance and giving chase. Equally desperate, Svaarvali threw a quick wall of ice behind her that barely stopped the Demon Lord as she made it to the steps of the small ziggurat that housed the Core at the top.
Using what remained of her energy to get to the top, Svaarvali didn’t hesitate to strike the evil Demon Core with her sword, sending a ripple of energy through the Demon Lord’s minions that caused them to recoil in pain as the final magical protections were ripped apart. Allowing one quick glance behind her, Svaarvali could see that most of her companions were dead, with only a scant few making their last stands below. Cursing herself for the split-second she hesitated, Svaarvali placed her hand on the Demon Core, and began the greatest struggle of her life as she put all of her magical energy into its destruction…
Ilvella snarled as he took a bolt of plasma to the chest, only just managing to twist and twirl his body in time to avoid a mortal blow. He would stay in the fight for as long as he could to give Svaarvali a chance. Seeing his Xarak companion fall from behind him, Ilvella knew he was the last man standing as a spear jabbed out from the side to lance him in the shoulder, just as he grabbed at the shaft to blunt its momentum enough to stay alive.
But with that blow he was pinned as he saw the claw come for his face.
‘This is a good day to die as a free man…’ He thought to himself before the gargoyle suddenly crumbled to dust in front of him. Others followed suit a split second later as a pulse lashed out from where a shattering sound could be heard from the ziggurat as the limp form of the Nirah clattered down the stairs.
She had done it.
They had won.
*****
“Listen, Ilvella…” Svaarvali groaned quietly to Ilvalla as he helped her stand up and move to the scattered shards of the core. They were the only two left still alive. All of their friends and companions had fallen in the battle, beyond recovery. “You will need to act quickly and leave Red Legion lands with as many of your freed people as you can the moment you get the opportunity to do so. The minds of the Stygian people are free from Azazel’s influence, though I fear that this has driven many of your people to insanity, and the fighting will continue in many places. This war is not over yet, but I swear in the name of all the gods I will speak on the Stygian’s behalf to the Red Legion and petition that all of you of sound and able mind be supported and rehabilitated into society, but I cannot promise that my word will be enough.”
“Were you able to….” Ilvella began before Svaarvali quickly nodded.
“I was able to smash the essence of Azazel into a million pieces,” she confirmed. “However, I fear that Azazel may have been telling the truth, and had contingencies in play.”
“So what do we do?” Ilvella asked. “If he is able to somehow return…”
Svaarvali said nothing as she raised her staff and quietly started chanting. The shattered pieces of the Demon Core began to float into the air and piece themselves back together as Ilvella began to panic, but he stopped on seeing the pieces form into a staff. Eventually Svaarvali shuddered, and the newly magical staff of dark, demonic obsidian dropped into her hands, before she turned and presented it to Ilvella.
“Take this when you go and make sure it gets put to good use.” The Nirah smiled warmly. “I know you’ll do what’s best.”
“I…” Ilvella began. “I can’t take this! It’s yours by right! There is no way the Red Legion will let-”
“This is my gift to you, Ilvella,” Svaarvali gently interrupted as she placed a hand on Ilvella’s shoulder. “Use it to give your people a future. And speaking of the future, I would love for you to meet my children some day when all of this settles, I’m sure you’d get along famously!”
Svaarvali’s expression grew serious for a moment, as they heard the distant sounds of friendly troops approaching. “I lost a lot of power destroying that Demon Core, and for all I know I may no longer be fit to be Astara’s Hero. It would be good to retire from fighting and settle down in a peaceful Galaxy. I’ve been away from my children for too long…”
The scene faded away as the memory ended, with the grim senses of the demonic dungeon once again being replaced by the cool evening air of the night sky above them.
“That was the last time I saw or spoke to Svaarvali,” Grandmaster Ilvella finally spoke up, as the tears flowed. “I did as she asked, and got as many out of Red Legion space as I could, later learning that those Stygians who had surrendered to the Red Legion were exiled and scattered around the Galaxy, with many unable to cope and returning to a dark nature - the closest thing they have to a connection with Azazel. For years I had hoped I would hear from my friend once again. There were places and codes we used, and I left all the signs I could, but I received no word.”
The Grandmaster sighed as Master Merrin placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Nya was shocked. She had never seen the usually stoic, confident and respected Ilvella reduced to this before.
“I have always told you that our Saviour sacrificed themselves to defeat Azazel,” Ilvella continued after taking several calm breaths. “And that is what Red Legion history would tell you. I do not know what happened, but I believe my friend is dead…”
He took more deep breaths to compose himself again.
“Svaarvali leaves behind a heroic legacy that I can only hope to try and emulate and teach you all.”
Though he was addressing everybody, Nya could see his gaze subtly meet hers.
“And we shall honour that legacy.”