Atop a large, pearlescent crystal spire sitting adjacent to an equally imposing castle, a hooded figure observed as the freak storm sitting above Mt. Cleyra dissipated just as quickly as it formed, distant enough to be out of immediate reach but close enough to be visible. The shadowed form sat in stark contrast to the bright reflection of the tower, brooding in the calculation of what was transpiring over yonder. She had an idea, and as much as it spelt trouble, it could also be turned to their advantage. Turning to face the castle, she glared intently at a large man clad in opulent armour who had also previously been observing the storm but now cast his gaze upon the spire and the entity. The void of words or expressions was already telling of their thoughts and intent. In silence, they both retreated inside their respective dwellings and began preparations.
"What do you understand of gods, lady Freya?"
"Only that they are numerous and distant. A few people believe to be granted powers by said gods, but I've always found my power to come from within." She replied, unsure where this conversation was headed.
"Ah. Then already you understand more than most.” The man continued, rubbing his rotund, hairless chin. He led the way out of the ruins where they previously conversed through a path in the forest he believed to lead in the way he intended to follow, using his staff as a walking stick more as a habit than out of necessity. "And what kinds of magic have you been bestowed?" He asked deceitfully.
Blissfully ignorant, she replied with full confidence: "The enhancement sort. What you've seen earlier today is the full extent of my gifts, which I consider to be quite handsome."
He smiled and was pleasantly surprised by her optimism. It wasn’t ego to him, but rather something he expected of her if she was to be his follower; a valuable one at that. "Then we'll rely on those gifts for now. They are, after all, the best way for us to approach mostly unseen given the current situation.” He delivered with comparable positivity.
"What need have we for stealth? Unless you plan something devious, as I suspected."
He chuckled, stopping to look back at her with a little twirl of his body. "As much as I suspect my arrival has been noticed by many more than those at your village, it would be optimal for us to move without drawing too much attention. If what I surmise is true, then it'd be best for us to reach out to the right people without being suspected of doing so." He explained.
She pondered his words for a moment, shaking her head in agreement as it began to make more sense to her, although she was still left feeling alienated from his plans. She chose not to pry too much at this point. Seeing as she didn't have a counter-reply to his statement, he tapped his staff twice to the ground and his eyes shifted colour to a bright blue hue.
He hopped where he stood a couple of times, trying to gauge the effectiveness of his spell, one he hadn't used in quite a few years. He went to take a step to the side, and just as she blinked during his action, he vanished from her sight completely. She looked around, confused, and he was nowhere to be seen. She blinked again, and he once again stood in front of her, a pleased expression on his face.
"I apologize. I forgot to announce what I was doing. Enhance your speed, my dear, and let's get on with it. Yes?" He invited her with a giddy tone.
She was baffled, never before seen anyone move that fast before - or so was what she assumed he was doing. She was fast, but not that fast, and so she hesitated before activating a similar spell of her own, but not before brandishing her spear as if it were a wand. Her eyes, too, shifted in hue to a darker shade of blue, not glowing quite as potently as his. She looked concerned as he turned around without another word and began walking at a regular pace towards his destination, picking up speed slowly as she kept up with him.
When they reached the point of regular sprinting, their magic kicked in and they both became as quick and dexterous as the fastest of felines. Surpassing even that limit, they kept pushing the limits of their speed until she was unable to keep up with him, trying to call out for him to slow down but unable to, seeing as the strain of keeping both that spell and a minor protective ward was already taking all of her concentration, to begin with. Thankfully he was aware that such a thing was bound to happen and looked back at just the right time, slowing down so she could match his pace.
Within half an hour they'd left the forest path behind, crossing into beautiful, lush plains covered with myriad colourful flowers. Ahead of them, far in the distance lay an immense castle-city surrounded by walls, multiple tiers of streets and buildings going up for what seemed like kilometres, even from so far away.
Among the city's most notable features were the massive airship hangar which looked from afar as if a massive sword had pierced through the middle of the city itself, the humongous castle which reached so far up that it could pierce the heavens and the imposing crystalline spire adjacent to it. Hours later, as they approached, Morgen felt a chill run down his spine. The flowers around them seemed different now - twisted, their colours drab and almost lifeless. Around the path which led to the main entrance of the city, a once-thriving orchard was now little more than cover for their approach as they slowed down and blended in with the caravans on the main road.
The line to proceed into the city was uncharacteristically slow, Freya thought. Still, it was the only legitimate means of ingress. Realizing that excessive security might be waiting for them, Freya herself concocted a plan and began to prepare for it: "Do you have any clothing that's more concealing?".
He furrowed his brows at her question at first but then smiled widely as he realized what this very act meant. Pleased beyond belief, the man looked around for a brief moment, then tapped his staff twice to the ground and his usual clothing rapidly morphed into darker garb, including a hooded cloak which hid most of his features. Thankfully, the people around them were too busy to notice the magic being cast in their midst, for as casual and innocuous as it was. Surprised by his impossibly wide knowledge of magic, she was briefly taken aback.
After a few seconds, she knelt beside him, head held low and spoke softly, slightly embarrassed: "Get on my back."
He smiled, tapping his staff twice to the ground once again, which first made it shrink in size then become translucent - practically invisible to the naked eye. He then strapped it to his lower back in a horizontal holster at his belt. Taking a few cautious steps forward, he wrapped his small arms around her neck and hopped on.
His weight was negligible to someone as physically well-built as her, and she carried him effortlessly, supporting his legs with her arms. "You're sick, you can't be walking around for too long like that." She said in a hushed tone.
His cheeks reddened, his heart fluttering with what he mayhaps mistook for kindness, but was undeniably an ingenious circumvention of their circumstance. He was truly proud. He held her a tiny bit tighter, letting his head rest comfortably at her shoulder. There was a softness and warmth to his embrace that left her feeling more at ease with the situation. Maybe he wasn't the herald of blood and death she was led to believe.
As they reached the checkpoint, Freya's fears were realized. The guards were performing somewhat thorough inspections of most citizens that came through. Pulling a set of crumpled papers from her pocket, she was able to bypass the town's first layer of security without trouble. Morgen didn't seem surprised by the guard's reaction to reading the young woman's documents. They regarded her with a certain reverence, paying her no small amount of respect as she made her way in, the nepenthe's body in tow. She barely had to explain his status at all.
They walked a few minutes inwards before Freya allowed him off her back. Although she was gentle, she had gotten quite sick of it. He still had a silly smile on his face, whereas she now seemed a bit uncomfortable. Many thoughts crossed her head as they'd crossed the checkpoint, and chief among them was the fear that she might be aiding a criminal of some sort in performing a terrible deed she was still unaware of. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her, and although she sensed no evil intent from him she was now undeniably his accomplice. Whatever happened now, it was too late for her to go back. The thought made the hairs of her body stand and her face burn. Arms crossed, she kept silent and looked on as if trying to escape this situation in her head.
"Right!" He said, content with their accomplishments. "I suppose much could have changed in my time away, but it'll be a good exercise for the mind to find my way to the palace. Shall we?" He continued, letting his memory lead the way. She followed closely behind, head hanging low in introspection. Oblivious to her distress, he didn't once look back to check on her.
The long, winding roads of Lindblum were packed on both sides with homes, stores and places of business. Morgen kept himself on alert, recognizing that the noise of these packed streets wasn't up to the standards it'd been in the past. Considering the number of people, loud noises and screaming were to be expected - if not from the regular citizens, then from the store-owners and clerks eager to make business. He saw very few smiles and it bothered him immensely. It was as if a pall of unease covered this once-glorious city.
Quite some time later they'd successfully navigated the multiple levels of the city, and through several powered lifts and similar contraptions, they managed to reach the access to the palace. Without a second thought, Morgen walked up the imposing set of stairs that led up and was stopped just short of the entrance by two guards. So far they'd been undetected by further security, but some confrontation was unavoidable.
The guards, one male and one female, had already been warned about his imminent arrival and announced as much as soon as they recognized the small man, even through his concealing clothing. As Freya approached soon after, the guards held their spears at their sides and touched their closed fists to their chests in respect, recognizing her as royalty. They were allowed through - both of them, through no effort of the young lady's.
Inside the mood seemed even more dreary than throughout the city. Morgen seemed to know the way to the throne room, and they were both greeted by an entourage of knights and several nobles as they arrived there. A large man clad in glittering adorned armour sat at the opposite end of the entrance on a large luxurious throne, stroking his beard. Several machines of undefined purpose fitted the walls, humming softly and standing as a testament of the nation's technological prowess.
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"How can you possibly be alive?" Said the man sitting at the throne. Standing in contrast to him, who gave off an air of calm and sovereignty, every other person in the room seemed uneasy with the small man's presence.
"Up until not so long ago, that question never even crossed my mind. Imagine my surprise finding out that in this world, I'd been dead for almost a decade. Baffling, isn't it? Having no idea how I've come to be deceased - that's even worse, as you can imagine." Morgen replied in a sarcastic tone as he inched forward towards the throne, his clothing swiftly reverting to its previous form. His staff remained stowed away at the back of his waist, although it was no longer concealed by magic.
The kingly figure raised from his seat, intent on meeting the much smaller man halfway, pacing forward slowly as the other did. "If you've come here for revenge, you'll find none. I had no part in your death, as much as oftentimes I wish I had."
"Oh?" Said the small one, piecing things together. "How come? Have I betrayed you so, old friend?" He continued, a saddened expression taking over. "I know I've been rather terrible in the past, but I don't recall a single time I've wronged you to such an extent." He finished, stopping a few steps short of the other.
Torn between the seemingly honest nature of Morgen's words and what'd he'd been seen and told in the past, the large man fumbled with his words briefly: "I... I don't know what to tell you. I know none capable of such carnage and destruction as I've witnessed other than you. Koya’cii, left in rubble."
Seeing the man struggle with the nature of Morgen's words as much as she did, Freya finally entered the room and the conversation after holding back in fear of what was about to happen. "Father, have you the same feelings I do?" She directed her words at the man, who seemed simultaneously relieved and distressed to see his daughter here. "Isn't this all rather... Confounding?"
"A... Aye, Freya. I'm glad you're safe. And seeing you so casts further doubt on my beliefs." Said the kingly figure, switching his gaze from his daughter to the nepenthe in front of him. "Things have been chaotic, starting with the day you died. I was told you sacrificed the lives of the entire concord that night. Things haven't been the same since." He continued. There was a sense of unease and tension emanating from the man regarding his daughter. Another story was put on hold for the matters a hand.
"Why would I erase the existence of all those I cherished most, Kafei? You've known me for too long. Does that even remotely sound like something I'd do?" He replied after a few moments of reflection. He seemed hurt by the accusations thrown at him but knew he was unable to completely refute them. Anything was possible and he dreaded the very thought of having committed such atrocities. Still, he wouldn't even think to perform such an atrocity now, and that had to be enough.
"Hells if I know, half-pint. You didn't exactly treat any of us the best for a while ere then." The man replied, hurt and suspicion in his voice. He wouldn't so easily let go of his concerns, given the weight of responsibility laying on his shoulders as a monarch.
Morgen lowered his head, clenching his fists. "Am I so irredeemable?" He asked in a whisper. He seemed on the verge of tears, even after hearing that nickname he'd been somewhat fond of. "Is there nothing that will prove my innocence?" He spoke up, his head running a maze seeking for solutions for this problem.
"Your efforts are misplaced. You should not have come here." Spoke an ominous female voice that came from outside. The hooded figure that awaited his arrival floated down from the spire into a balcony of the throne room. "You were punished for your crimes, and yet you've no sense to stay down. Do you truly believe anyone will trust your manipulations?"
Morgen recognized the voice and felt a painful pang in his chest. Moreover, her approach multiplied thousandfold the dread he'd been feeling since he first approached the city on that day. She might as well have been the source of it all - a presence which served to twist and corrupt the very world around it. "What... No. You're stronger than that." He replied. "Stronger than me, than all of us combined."
"I am. And that's why I'll put you down again, little mouse. You don't belong in this world anymore." She replied, her robes fading into nothingness, revealing the broken form beneath, covered by tattered rags that were once regal pieces of clothing. Loud gasps erupted from noblemen and women around the hall, who seemed surprised but eerily anaesthetized to the horror of it. The room seemed to grow dim, the light that poured from the large balconies unable to contend with the oppressive darkness within. Every guard in the room contorted and screamed in agony as the woman raised her pale hand, digits warped to a likeness of sharp-ended tentacles. Her eyes were pitch-black, any lighter shade erased as if the shine of her soul had been extinguished. Her form was unnaturally slender and brought unease to even the most casual onlooker.
"Mother!" - screamed Freya. "What..." The young lady stopped herself, holding both hands to her mouth, her entire body shaking, feeling her sanity slipping away. Her father looked on with a blank stare, accepting of the current happenings. He seemed to know this moment was coming and didn't seem to have the will nor the power to fight it.
The guards one by one fell to the ground, holding their helmets which seemed to weld to their heads. They gushed out blood from every possible orifice, their forms being twisted to the woman's wicked tastes. "I gave you every chance to leave. What happens to them is on your shoulders." The woman said, her voice distorted down to a growl.
Morgen shuddered, watching the chaos erupt all around him, believing his to be the only remaining sane mind in the room. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come back." He spoke at the lower end of his voice.
The guards, one by one, rose from the ground and fixed their gazes on the nepenthe. Their shambling, broken forms advanced all at once on him, each growling with fury, overwhelming him in number and mass. The woman smiled and cackled with joy, her broken and twisted teeth on display.
Any other victim might have been torn apart by the ravenous assault of these thralls, but not he. A few instants later, every guard was blown back by a wave of force that sent them flying away from the pile where they'd attempted to ravage their quarry. A few were flung across the hall and had their bodies crushed against the walls, their forms breaking apart while their blood and viscera covered the walls and machinery. Others had their impact cushioned by the nobles that remained in the room, seriously hurting and maiming a few. Others still were flung out of the balconies, falling to gruesome deaths on the streets and rooftops below. The woman's bellowing ceased as she saw that man's form shine with a bright light.
The hair at the top of his head took on a brightness usually reserved for focus crystals, no longer affected by gravity. His eyes were white lanterns lighting the room's unnatural darkness. He raised both hands slightly as tears streamed continuously down his face. The woman that stood in opposition to him pointed her hand at his frame, bolts of black and aquamarine-coloured energy coalescing around her arm before shooting out in a stream that screamed out like a thousand lost souls, a shriek that briefly deafened every living soul in the room.
The blast seemed to engulf the small man without ever touching or harming him. "I understand where I went wrong." He whispered to himself. Ponting his body and both hands at the woman, he clenched his fists as if grasping at her from afar. He slowly pulled both hands apart from each other but seemed to meet an invisible resistance that kept them close together. The woman's body seemed to go limp, screeching in pain with a voice not her own.
"I shall excise the sin of your existence!" He shouted as both his hair and eyes shifted in colour to a deep purple, energy erupting like fire from the pores of his hands and swirling around his body.
Freya was hurdled in a corner, terrified by the violence and cacophony. Whatever was happening to her mother terrified her to no end. When she heard Morgen's words, she opened her eyes to witness what seemed to her like an act of violence against her beloved progenitor and was sent into a rage, lifting herself from the ground before being interrupted by the nepenthe's continued speech.
"Call out to your mother, Freya! Let her know how important she is!"
Confused, but somewhat trusting of the man's words, she resigned to follow his instruction. "Mother! Please! Let this madness end! I want to live with you and father again. I love you both so much!" She cried out, losing coherence thereafter, but continuing to reach out to her mother with her words. The woman writhed in pain, her very being slowly torn in two.
A few moments later, Morgen's spell took definite hold and a high-pitched tone grew rapidly, then subsided as a dark aura was expelled from her body, the nepenthe's arms spread wide as if he'd just broken a cage with his bare hands. Then, from where the woman previously stood coalesced an atrocity akin to the upper half of a human body, but skeletal and covered in a pitch-like substance that filled the air with a putrid odour. The woman's body seemed to be back to that of a usual person of her kind, although frail and pale, and she lay on the floor unconscious.
Morgan approached the creature slowly as it screeched menacingly at him, although seemingly too weak to offer any real resistance. Caring very little for its threats, the man's hair and eyes shifted colour once more to a fiery red. A portal - the circumference of which was about as wide as the skeletal creature's size - appeared over the abomination's form. Shortly thereafter, a pillar of flame erupted from the portal and spewed red and blue fire until nought remained of the creature but ash, a dark circle burned on the floor. Morgen's power subsided, his hair and eyes returning to their previous shade and becoming opaque.
While the king was stunned throughout the struggle and had still yet to release himself from his stupor, young Freya had already rushed towards her mother's body, lifting her in her arms in an attempt to wake her and discern her well-being.
Very few remained alive in the room - much less wounded or unaffected by the conflict. The few nobles that still held on to their sanities had managed to escape the throne before the blast that killed most others. The room itself was a red, gory mess - whimpering and pained screaming sounding from the few that remained. No aid had been mobilized yet, although the noise had been enough to alert the rest of the palace.
Morgen rubbed a drop of blood that had splattered onto his coat off with a finger, burning it away from his skin using magic right after. He looked around at the mess he made and felt the weight of a hundred years of guilt strike him all at once. It felt good to let loose after so long, and at first, he hadn't felt like it had been excessive.
He was wrong.
The king slowly walked towards his wife, cold sweat running across his body, reeling from the carnage and madness he'd just witnessed. He knelt beside her debilitated body along with Freya, holding his partner's hand like he hadn't been able to in years. She was alive and breathing. The tears streamed down his face in relief.
Morgen reached for the staff at his back and reverted it to its normal size. Tapping the base of the staff to the floor twice, his eyes shifted to a yellow hue. As he looked around the throne room, all the dead bodies, blood and viscera were slowly and neatly reassembled. He was unable to bring any of them back to life, but at least he made the room more presentable. As the deceased were put back together, they were set down side by side through levitation, bellies facing up, which would later make it easier to discern and aid those who survived.
That aid came just a minute later, as a sizeable armed force rushed into the throne room, brandishing spears, shields and heavy armour. They all assembled in a circle around the nepenthe, assuming he'd been responsible for the carnage. They weren't wrong. The king was too busy to deal with the commotion at first, unable to take his eyes off his beloved and their daughter, whom he now held close to his chest as she sobbed.
Faced with the aggression from the guards, the nepenthe spun his staff on his hand around him at an accelerated pace, performing an intricate, beautiful dance while his eyes glowed with an eerie mossy green. The guards were frightened by his display of dexterity and artistry, not taking any steps further, instead just holding their ground. As the staff's speed reached ludicrous levels, it seemed to turn into several of itself, covering the man's figure with a flickering shroud of black, and an instant later he vanished from sight entirely along with his illusory staves. The guards, confused, focused on their other duties after a small amount of time.
Indeed, there was much to do.