Having nowhere else to go, Veximarl followed the sweet melody of the woman’s voice. There was something angelic about it, almost magical in its beauty. He found her hiding in the hollow of a large tree with a child in her arms. Memories of her warmth were suddenly fresh in his head, which would mean-
Turning his head, Veximarl watched as the would-be raced through the trees. It had devoured the power of a local necromancer and had taken to the form of a large cat-spider hybrid. As a last attempt to save herself, the necromancer had driven it mad with poison. Now it was flailing about in an attempt to sate the hunger that still raged within it.
“Return to me, child! Let me feast upon your iron!” Howls in the distance caught the would-be’s attention and it darted off in that direction. “Where are you?!”
The singing stopped, and the woman whispered in the child’s ear. “We need to get to higher ground before it notices us.”
Veximarl recognized the woman as she picked up his younger self. He had seen a drawing of her hanging in Sybil’s apartment back in Carapace. It was so long ago, and it had been so traumatizing that he hardly remembered her being here... Yet the memories were rushing back to him in a near violent manner.
“... Lady Larkin.”
As she ran off with younger Veximarl in her arms, the older Veximarl followed. There were sounds of fighting nearby and a young Sir Oceans was running up to the pair. He was wearing the uniform of a Grugrim squire.
“Lady Larkin! I’ve b-been asked to get an update from you!”
“There you are Galwen... I’m so relieved to know that you’re alright.” Lydia adjusted the boy in her arms as he clung onto her. “First, tell me if we’ve had any casualties among our group.”
“There are injuries but we’ve succeeded in evacuating the survivors.”
Lydia sighed with relief. “That’s fantastic! Tell Lady Grulick to meet me at Erskine’s home. She’ll know which one it is. Oh, wait, while you do that, I need you to take this child as far from here as possible. Aim for Bog Vale, if you can. I’ll send Grulick after you once I’m done speaking with her.”
Oceans took the younger Veximarl away from her and ran off. Lydia took off in the opposite direction as the older Veximarl followed her. She ducked behind a tree as a pack of tainted beasts ran past. After waiting a moment, she dashed into a heavily damaged hut. Again, Veximarl followed, only to be treated to another horrifying scene.
Part of his mother was lying dead on a nearby table. Only a part of her… Blood was dripping from the many puncture wounds of her tattered torso, staining the ground below her in a sickly purple color. Veximarl’s father was sitting in a nearby chair. His clothes were stained with blood and his face was buried within his hands.
Lydia looked over to where Semira was lying and then to him again. “Oh, Erskine… What is it that you’ve done?”
He dropped his hands and looked at her with a weary expression. “I am doing what is necessary…”
Lydia shook her head.
“My family’s deaths have done nothing to ease Lustro’s worries. The miasma has only gotten worse. The Aconites have led this nation to a civil war and their prince is a fool of a man who will lead us further into ruin. Their atrocities have now made them ripe for harvest.” He reached up and fiddled with the pendant that he had hanging around his neck. “I must return to Fogbloom and take back my throne.”
Lydia was to busy being horrified to pay attention. “Please swear to me that you didn’t summon that beast just so you would find out where we hid the heart... Swear to me that you didn’t intend to have Semira injured!” Erskine didn’t give her a reply. He sat in silence as he continued to fiddle with his pendant. “After everything she’s done for you! You’d still be an old man wandering a wasteland if she didn’t give you her pity!”
Erskine stood up. He was a young-looking man in his thirties, but history would claim him to be decades older than that. "At least someone took me in after your father turned his back on me. When I return to Fogbloom with a god as my ally, no one will be able to deny my claim to the throne. I had not meant for anyone to die. Only the heart was to be sacrificed, but Semira would have wanted it this way. She would be proud to know that her sacrifice would be used for the greater good."
“No entity will support your bid to become king. Not man nor god. There is no greater treachery in this world than what you have done and I will ensure that your struggle will be known as nothing more than a tragedy where you were your own villain.” Lydia took a step away from him and placed her hand to her hip. She had the Heart of Eishur next to her rapier and she continued to protect it from Erskine as he stepped closer.
A chuckle escaped Erskine. “Once the would-be hunts down and devours Veximarl, it will have enough power within it to transcend into godhood. I will cast out the demons who betrayed my family and herald in a new era for Lustro. Just as my ancestors have done before me.
That is the power that is my birthright," he said as he tilted his head. "Don't make that face, Lydia. Was there not a time where you thirsted for vengeance just as much as I have? Have you seen what your actions have done to the Clay Region? The blood on your hands is an ocean compared to the droplets I carry. At least I take pride in what has stained my soul."
“My only regret is giving you pity,” she whispered back.
Erskine snapped his fingers as Lydia went to draw her rapier. Time froze around the pair and only Lydia’s eyes were still capable of movement. “I’m lucky that my youth isn’t the only blessing that was rightfully returned to me.” Erskine waved a hand at Semira. “Thank you, my beloved wife. Your dedication will burn for eternity.”
Moving to grab the heart, Erskine gave it a hard yank and grunted as it didn't budge. He undid the sword from Lydia's belt and went through the same series of motions as Alton had when he tried to free it from its scabbard. He, like Alton, faltered when it came time to claim his prize. With a growl, he chucked the blade across the room.
“Why is this happening now?!” His rage was interrupted by the abrupt appearance of a spear erupting through his chest.
Grulick grunted and angled the spear forwards, forcing Erskine to his knees. "Because bad things happen to both good and bad people... The world doesn't have much fairness in it, but it's especially harsh to those who have gone down the wrong path."
Grasping at her throat, Lydia coughed and gasped as she became unfrozen. “... Thank you.” She walked over to the falchion and picked it up, easily pulling it free of its scabbard “I have no right to beg for forgiveness, Erskine. The fault is mine and mine alone to bear. There will be a day where I may make amends. To both Sybil and Veximarl. They are the only two I owe anything now.”
Erskine gasped as well. His hands wrapped around the spear in an attempt to either pull it through the rest of the way or force it out, but Grulick held it firmly in place. The pain on Lydia’s face was masked by her determined stare.
Death was swift. A simple swing of her arm was enough to free his head from his shoulders... It fell with a sickening thud by his side.
“Dammit, Erskine!” Lydia put a hand to her forehead as she struggled with her emotions. “... Dammit! Why did you have to go and be so stupid?!”
“That boy sounded crazy, Lydia. There are ways to fix an ill state of mind, but that sort of crazy ain’t something that can be undone easily.” Grulick braced her foot against his torso and kicked him off of her weapon. “We have to do something about that child. Is that sword really the only thing that can kill it at this point? No way to revert the process?”
"Semira might have been able to do something, but… I'm the only person here that can use the heart," replied Lydia. She bent down to pick up Erskine's fallen pendent and looped it about her neck.
Grulick gave a shake of her head. “It’s too dangerous for you to do that sort of thing, girl. Getting caught wielding that sword is the last thing you need. You think his son can help?”
“Vex is only six, he can’t-” Lydia’s voice cracked as a lump formed in her throat. “What are we going to do with him? He’s a necromancer, Ribnjak. If he can’t let his skills flourish, he’ll end up going mad. I can’t bring him to the core, but I can’t risk bringing Sybil here.”
“I’ll send the squad back to Braytons and have them inform them that I ain’t planning on returning. Might as well retire and do something fun like raising that boy right.” Grulick looked off to the door and then back to Lydia. “If you’re going to finish it off, you better do it soon.”
“As soon as I awaken the blade.”
“Tria bless you then,” remarked Grulick.
Lydia laughed weakly to herself. “I’m sure she’ll be blessing me plenty once I cut her loose from the would-be. I doubt she’d thank me at all for it though.”
Grulick nodded again. "I'll go on ahead."
Lydia held the falchion aloft. “It’ll be a moment before I can join you... I’ll be out as soon as I am able.” She watched Grulick leave before letting out a sigh. Lydia then held the blade close to her lips and whispered to it. “... Good morning.”
The blood iron core within the falchion glowed brightly through the obsidian and Lydia’s body suddenly dissipated in a mist. Veximarl chased after the vapor trail that was now twisting towards the would-be. Lydia reformed nearby long enough to survey the scene before twisting into mist again. Over and over again did she shift between the two states as she viciously attacked the creature.
Limbs and fur flew everywhere as Lydia continued her onslaught. As she severed pieces off of the would-be, they dissolved into ash. When only the torso was left, she slammed the hilt of the blade upon it. It cracked open and some ill-shaped creature began to ooze out of it.
The mound of flesh shuddered as it struggled to reform itself, taking on the appearance of a malformed woman. There were ram's horns on either side of her brow, but they retracted into her head as she gave it a shake. Lydia knelt by her, and Semira looked up with a glare.
“It’s always a tragedy between us, isn’t it Semira?” Lydia slid the heart back into the scabbard.
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“Everything will be paid forward in time,” Semira replied.
Semira then turned towards Veximarl. A cold blast of air enveloped the world around them, whisking them away to a new land. The two were now standing on a plateau. The world around them was a frozen desert, with similar structures like the one they were on top of. This place was familiar, yet foreign.
“So this is what the Sky Region looks like,” he muttered.
Semira stretched out her arms. Despite being a god, she was remarkably human-looking, except for her eyes. Eyes that were nearly identical to Veximarl's. She gestured to the city that was built between the gaps of the plateaus.
“After humanity took over, they renamed this city Far Home. Though it has been centuries since my last visit, this is how I remember it. Do you remember what I told you about my banishment?”
Veximarl recalled the tale, despite it being taught to him when he was still a small child. "A would-be devoured Tock and ascended to the status of a god. Those of the Sky Region rejected our religion and cast you out. The church declared you to be an enemy. Necromancy was made illegal and more occurrences of miasma began to plague these lands."
“Yet they kept the blessing of blood iron that I gave them,” she replied in a deathly tone. “When Erskine sought to create a new god, he did not take his chances. What devoured me was one of a litter. Its siblings have grown are now leading the war that threatens Lustro. One was able to slip ahead before the armies arrived. My role as Tria commands me to find a champion that will defeat them.”
Looking off to the side, Veximarl would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. “There have been many moments where I had hoped our paths would cross again. I had hoped for a warmer welcome, but… Actually, I do not know what I was expecting.”
Semira approached and raised her hand. Veximarl leaned forward so she could touch his cheek. "My beautiful child, Veximarl Fogbloom… Your father was the bastard that made me lose my vessel of flesh and it's been difficult for me to manifest since then. You are fortunate enough that we are able to speak at all. Why are you wasting my time on sentiments?"
He stepped back and away from her touch. None of his memories of her had been tender, that much was true. This was simply the nature of their relationship. It was better that he distanced himself emotionally. Grulick was by all accounts his true mother, being the one that raised him. Semira was merely the god that birthed him.
Dropping to one knee, he bowed his head forward in a display of respect. “My goddess, your brood awaits your command.”
His actions didn't phase her. "When the first four gods vowed to guard this world, they each selected one soul from humanity to be their prophet. Only their descendants would maintain their powers. This changed with my birth, as the power of blood iron allows for the existence of acolytes. However, when I forged the heart, I commanded it to only obey those with the bloodline of prophets. They were to ascend to the title of God Among Men and act as our emissaries.
The others, Iath, Eatha, and Mart, have never learned how the selection process works. They only understood that the Fogbloom bloodline, descended from the first God Among Men, were the ones that were able to wield it. It is a secret that I share only out of the sake of emergency and because it is time for the blade to awaken again.
I chose to be Erskine’s mate in the hopes of,” her voice trailed off. “It matters not. The heart should allow you to use a portion of its power. It will be enough. You must venture forth and,” she lowered her voice to a mumble, “free me from inside the would-be.”
Veximarl looked up and blinked several times in succession. “... Mother.” He stood up and shook his head. “... Did you get eaten by another one of these monstrosities?” Semira refused to make eye contact with her son. She began to fidget about uncomfortably. “How are you still alive, let alone still have the power to appear before me?”
“My connection with blood iron makes me stronger than my siblings. I have also poisoned the monster from within in an effort to drive it mad and slow its digestion. Its overall confusion should weaken it to the point where it will be easily defeated.
Unfortunately, I have been inside this would-be for two months now, and the last of my strength went to unbinding the seal that I had placed upon Sybil’s magic. I am not going to last much longer as a result.” She held her nose up proudly. “I showed you a memory of the last time the heart was used.
The heart unlocks the full potential of one's bloodline, temporarily allowing them to rival the gods in strength. As you are a child of Tria and the last existing prophet of Tock, it will work differently for you than how it did for that woman. Do not expect to be flying about while making an idiotic show of it as she did. You are brood. Behave accordingly."
That would make sense. When Sybil mentioned how the scabbard worked before, she said that it summoned in people made of mist who looked like herself and spoke in her own voice. Being a necromancer, they took the forms of their dead selves. And as convenient as Alessia seemed to find that, Veximarl preferred the idea of not having his dead relatives show up every now and then.
"There were adjustments made to the scabbard." Veximarl was concerned about what the change in blood iron meant. "Was that your doing?"
Semira frowned at the question. “There were mistakes made when the blood iron was forged. I merely made the necessary adjustments and changed the design so that it didn’t bear the markings of those ill murderers. Which reminds me, I have enough time to grant you your boon. Although I am supposed to let you choose the boon, I will claim that mother knows best.”
The experience Veximarl had with boons in the past had taught him that they weren’t always the best of things. Even if he had the option to request one, he knew he wouldn’t receive his actual request. “What would you need me to do?”
“Loan me the top half of your spear.” Semira held out her hand and Veximarl placed his weapon in it. She then took a moment to examine it. “This isn’t terrible but Walter still has years before he’ll be capable of making something decent... A shame he has no one talented enough to mentor him.” Semira sat down and began to fiddle with it. “I do not have the opportunity to do it myself, unless… Ah, not a thought more. Spare me a few moments. It will be done shortly.”
“Forgive me if this is rude, but are we not in a state of emergency? Surely there is time after I free you when you can work on this.” He winced as she shot a glare up at him. “I am merely concerned.”
Semira looked back down and yanked a coin loose from the spear. She spun it around in her fingers as she examined the design. “I am abusing your bloodline and using it to dilate time. This conversation will have taken place within the span of a single second. If I had the opportunity to speak longer, I would.
As soon as I am freed from the would-be, I will need to enter torpor to repair my injuries. My influence upon this world will weaken and the rest of my power will be spent on purging the Crimson Region of miasma. That should at least stall the other would-bes from traveling through for another year. By the time I emerge whole once more, your life will have no doubt have come to a natural end."
“... I see.” Veximarl was conflicted on how he should feel about that.
“I suppose we will have as long as it takes me to work on this.” She put the coin back onto the spear and pulled loose another one. The blood iron wibbled within her palm as she worked on maximizing its potential. “Or we can sit in silence. That is your choice. I do not care either way.”
Looking around uncomfortably for a moment, Veximarl then sat down next to Semira. He gave the occasional glance towards her work but understood none of it. Most of what he knew of his mother came from the old stories of Tria. There weren’t many memories of her from when he was a child... Even less of his father. Only that he had a stern face.
“Did you and father love one another?” He immediately regretted asking the question the moment the words left his lips.
She let out a pained exhale. "It took Erskine decades to locate me. As per the agreement among gods, I was to grant him a boon. He demanded that I give him back his youth and become his wife. The only reason why I agreed was that he had Brayton's eyes… That determination of his did much to sway me.
I did not know at the time that he was a vile murderer, nor did I think him willing to sacrifice the two of us in order to achieve his goals. So no... I don’t believe he ever held any love for either of us. We were only pawns to him.”
Veximarl looked down at the falchion in his lap. He felt this awkward pressure against his shoulders. It almost felt like responsibility. If others found out the truth behind his heritage, what sort of expectations would they have for him? Over sixty years had passed since the death of the royal family. Perhaps that limited window for vengeance had already closed.
When he had learned that the pendent Sybil had once belonged to his father, he had secretly hoped she was perhaps a cousin or some other relation of his. It would’ve been comforting to know that he had a blood relative out there... Or at least someone close enough to his own history that they could understand what he was going through.
“... What is Bellia now?”
Sybil was part of the Alcea family. Himself, Alton, and Sybil were all a part of the prophet bloodlines, were they not? He wanted to understand more about what that meant.
Semira scoffed. "It's a sword." She shuddered at the thought. "Of course they are not simply a sword. There is a long-winded explanation for it, but I lack the patience for discussion on the subject... I'm almost done here. Were there any other pestering questions you had for me before we part ways?"
“And Aeneas Alcea? Did you ever meet him?”
Semira was about to put back the blood iron coin, but her hand froze up at the mention of Aeneas’ name. “... Aeneas and Erskine disagreed on much after they left Fogbloom. Aeneas was forced to use his talents to kill his own family. It was for the sake of Lustro that he did so. Erskine only wanted the throne.
They parted ways, and sometime later, Aeneas realized that he could not leave Erskine alone. He gave up the heart and Belllia, and sought out Erskine, only to be killed by him. I do not know the specifics, as Lydia uncovered the truth not long after Erskine died."
A shame… Though that did tie up Sybil’s search for her grandfather. While he still had time, he should consider asking something about himself. Veximarl had both dozens of questions and none at all. His mind couldn’t sort out what was important or what was simply mere curiosity.
“Do you regret not being around to raise me?”
“... I have wondered about that myself.” Semira returned the spear to him. “Although both Iath and Eatha have sought out human mates, I have never felt the urge to pass on what I am. My role places me at the end of humanity’s life. It was only through Erskine’s intervention that I sought to create you at all.
There were times where I was filled with an immense curiosity towards the man you would someday become. When I was forced to relocate to Carapace, Lydia encouraged me to watch over Sybil and her friends so that I would better understand parenthood.
I found myself questioning my worries at night. How would you compare to Sybil if I stood you side by side? Were you eating well? Were you being taught the right lessons and being a proper chance to thrive? Then I would wonder why I would feel that way, as you were made for a purpose and not out of love.
During these past few weeks, I have spent a great deal of time observing your actions and your behavior. The type of person you are is… You certainly behave a great deal like him... At least, every now and again, I close my eyes, and I can almost sense his presence."
“Like father?”
"Like Brayton," muttered Semira. "He was secretly a nervous man who was always second-guessing every little choice he made, but he was also quite determined to do right by those around him… What you are now is perhaps nobler than anything I would have crafted you into. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I am proud of what you are now, but I am not disappointed. Lady Grulick… I could not have chosen a better replacement for myself."
Semira stood up and Veximarl did as well. She looked him over for a moment, then patted him on the shoulder. The world shifted around the two of them, and suddenly Veximarl was in the alleyway again. Alton was groaning as he stood up from his fall. He let out a cry of joy as he stared at the startled Veximarl.
“We got it out!” Alton exclaimed. “Now we need to find a place to safely activate it... We should also figure out how to activate it, but it looks like the hardest part is over.”
With his head going this way and that, Veximarl looked around to make sure there weren’t any dead relatives hanging about. “... We should move towards the core entrance. That will afford us the largest area for combat.” He held out his hand. “I am in need of the scabbard.”
Alton squinted and held the scabbard behind his back. “Give me the sword.” Veximarl didn’t budge. “Don’t be like this now. You don’t know how to wield a blade.” He tilted his head as Veximarl dropped his hand and looked off to the side. “... Did the sword already activate for you?”
“I have been blessed with a vision of Tria. She has been eaten and partially absorbed by the would-be. It is possible that the would-be will have enough strength to transform into a new god if left to absorb the rest of her... She has poisoned it in an attempt to protect herself and that insanity might remain if it ascends. We must not let that happen.”
“... Tria. You saw Tria.” Veximarl nodded his head as Alton grimaced again.
“Yes. She has claimed this city as her territory and the sword enabled me to contact her.”
Alton nodded slowly. Veximarl was a necromancer. If Tria was the resident god, it would make sense that the sword would activate for him. That didn’t explain why Iath appeared for Sybil. She didn’t seem like either a summer type or a paladin. Alton didn’t understand any of this god stuff that had been happening as of late, but he still wanted to be more involved than just being told what was happening.
“... Alright. Let’s head to the core. Do you think the sword will allow you to ward this thing away?”
“Warding is not an option. We must kill it in order to save Tria.”
Great… Just great. Alton tensed up for a moment before shaking his head. “... Alright,” he repeated. “Let’s just… Let’s just move out and try to figure it out when we get there.”