It’s been three weeks of being transported upriver, then a long march on foot, in chains. Maybe things would have turned out different if his power manifested, but his Everliving power has yet to manifest… until he was hit with that lightning attack from Octavius. A strange feeling started stirring inside his mind, a part of him awakening. He can feel it, something feels different, he can sense the animals around him, even with them not in his sight. Each night he has vivid dreams of flying through the night skies or running through the forests in the darkness. Sometimes he is the predator, other times he's the prey, and sometimes he slips between the two. It doesn’t feel like a dream; it feels real.
Upon clearing a narrow pass, where the trees grow huge and are twisted and blighted looking with a fog that obscures the sky, the sun and the mountains of the valley rim are not visible in the best of circumstances. One could easily become lost here with no way to find their direction once they wander off the narrow winding pathway. No songbirds are here, only the occasional baritone call of a raven, as if warning you to turn back. The very air feels thick and heavy, it’s a place that makes you feel uneasy… unwelcome. This is a valley that is barren of green things; it is gray, blackened, and blighted. It’s the Valley of Death.
Ages ago, there was a great majikal war, it was the war that drained the world of much of its majik, and ultimately scarred this once sacred and mystical valley.
They walk a hard day, being driven as fast as humanly possible by the guards, they are warned to not be outside at night because of aberrations and horrors beyond imagining come out at night here in these cursed lands. They barely reach Fort Blight before darkness befalls them, it’s an ancient fortress from another age, rebuilt and refitted to serve its new purpose as a prison. Koronos can feel something in the stone walls and portcullis here, something protecting them from what lies beyond the walls, some type of ancient warding.
Once they assemble in the courtyard, the Warden in charge of the other guards is a gnarled rugged-looking middle-aged man, hardened from battle and from dealing with condemned men on a daily basis for years on-end proclaims an announcement with a rough, harsh voice befitting of his appearance, “I am Warden Iconus. Welcome to your new home, boys, for the rest of your miserable, wretched days, unless otherwise noted in your sentencing by imperial decree but even if that be the case, you’re never leaving this place alive. Your only escape from here is through death, so if you be a weak man, do us all a favor and kill yourself tonight, it should be easy enough to hang yourself somewhere here, just do it away from the other men so you don’t disturb their rest.”
Whilst the Warden was talking, the condemned men see two other prisoners carrying a dead body and toss it on the back of a wagon. Further inside the fortress they hear prisoners screaming at them, it’s hard to make out what they are saying from the cacophony of noise, but one could guess, something about the new men being meat for divvying up amongst the established prisoners, more or less. Some of the new prisoners piss themselves while guards laugh.
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The Warden makes his way to Koronos and says with sarcasm dripping from his tongue, “Oh, we should be so fortunate, look here boys, we are graced with a genuine war hero!” Then he directs his words directly at Koronos, “I don’t care who you used to be, blue savage, here, your miserable hide belongs to me, do you understand me, boy?”
There are strong men, there are weak men, then there are the few men that defy comprehension with how strong they are; Koronos ranks amongst the latter and with a dexterity and speed that defies his large size. Perhaps the warden didn’t believe the stories and reputation of Koronos, or he is overconfident, but for whatever reason, it proves to be a final and fatal mistake.
Like the legendary flight of Icarus flying too close to the sun, Warden Iconus gets too close to Koronos, and finds his fate sealed as was the fate of Icarus; his face is suddenly smashed-in from a headbutt that’s more akin to a sledgehammer as blood splatters the guards standing on each side of him. The warden flies back several feet and crumples to the ground with blood pouring from what remains of his crushed face, and the massive force of the impact snaps his neck like a twig might snap from being stepped upon. His death comes instantly as the guards rush-in and commence ferociously beating Kononos with clubs, the beating continues for a good minute until he is beaten senseless, bruised, and bleeding. The prisoners behind the bars scream and yell with howls even louder than before and even cheer for Koronos.
The purpose of converting the ancient fortress into a prison colony is ulterior; this was once home of the greatest and most powerful Everliving, she was simply known as The First. Her power was beyond anything the world has ever seen and maybe ever will, she built this fortress and ruled over what was once a vast empire. She forged a mighty weapon to help channel and focus her powers. Through centuries of being channeled with her unimaginable powers, it somehow absorbed some of her essence; it is simply known as the Sword of the First. Ultimately, she was destroyed in the ancient war that scarred the world.
Somewhere down in the bowels of the fortress is her crypt, hidden, secret and sacred. Octavius knows of this legend and has the prisoners searching for the sword, but eons have passed, for centuries nothing has ever been found. So, Octavius has all but forgotten the original purpose of the prison, and now it’s basically just a miserable prison to send people to rot. So, they dig through solid stone and rock, day after miserable day and they don’t even know why.
After the guards finish beating Koronos, they throw him in isolated confinement, a place that is simply called, The Pit; it's a dark, black cave deep below the surface, in the lowest depths of the fortress. In the dark isolation, time has no meaning or purpose, he isn’t even sure how long he lies there on the cold stone floor. The guards assume he will die from the severe beating they administered, and most men would die, but he is Everliving, and they don’t die very easily. Here in the dark hellhole as he tries to recall the majestic meadows and mountain peaks of his home to try to bring him some measure of peace, he senses it, something below him, calling to him; something… powerful.