Chapter Sixty-Two: Root
Molten Cradle was once a breathtaking realm of life, towering trees, vast rolling oceans, and the Sea of Stars, a celestial expanse of light cascading down from the heavens. It was a world that blossomed with life, revered by its inhabitants for its splendor and safeguarded by the noble Clan of the Burning Hawk. Their sacred duty was to maintain the natural balance of Molten Cradle, to protect its denizens, and, above all, to ensure that no darkness would threaten the life and beauty held within this vibrant domain.
Nuri’s ancestors were powerful, each bearing the fire of the Burning Hawk within them, a fierce responsibility passed down for generations. They were warriors, healers, and guardians, wielding their flame as both weapon and life force, their bond with the realm was seemingly unbreakable. This sacred flame was their pride and legacy, a connection to the very soul of Molten Cradle.
But as generations passed, a creeping shadow began to fall over the Clan. The delicate balance that kept Molten Cradle thriving began to shift, its essence growing increasingly unstable. The realm, once a sanctuary of light and vitality, started showing cracks, a dark undercurrent seeping into the foundation of life itself.
The Clan held one closely guarded secret, never shared with the rest of the realm, a secret unknown even to the rulers. Long ago, they had encountered the Forsaken, ancient, mysterious beings, malevolent in both presence and purpose, who brought with them a force they called Madness Hindo. This dark, volatile Hindo had its roots deep in the unknown, a power that fed on thoughts and emotions, amplifying fear, desire, rage, and greed.
The Forsaken had whispered to the Clan, “If one can master this Hindo, they would be capable of transforming the world as they saw fit.”
Within the Clan, reactions were divided. Some members were intrigued by the potential of this dark power, lured by the notion of control over an untamable force. But many others stood in firm opposition, declaring, “This is beneath us, brothers and sisters. Something not born of this land should not be wielded by its protectors. Madness Hindo is drawn from the depths of the unknown. We should not touch it.”
Yet, pride whispered otherwise. “Our flames are the purification of all corruption,” they assured themselves. “This Madness is no different.”
But one cannot merely control Madness Hindo. Over time, it began to seep into the minds and souls of the clan members capable of using the Toro. Those who infused it into their Burning Hindo began hearing whispers, promises of greater strength, of invincibility. At first, it manifested in small, subtle ways, a short temper, a glaring gaze, but it grew, a silent toxin poisoning their souls.
Generations later, the leader of the Burning Hawk Clan, Nuri’s great-grandfather, began to change. Once known for his wisdom and patience, he became increasingly erratic, prone to fits of rage and violent outbursts. His once-gentle flame turned into a scorching inferno that burned all it touched. Many in the clan began to question his judgment, but as most were not Tuners and could not control Hindo, their concerns fell on deaf ears. Madness Hindo had seeped into the clan’s offspring and Tuners over generations, whispering to them, twisting their minds. It was a silent corruption, pulling the clan deeper into darkness without them even realizing it.
Nuri’s mother, one of the last pure-hearted guardians of the Burning Hawk, sensed the shift and tried to intervene, desperately seeking a way to expel the Madness Hindo. “The rulers must know of this corruption,” she urged. But by then, it was too late. One by one, the Tuners of the Burning Hawk became corrupted, and in turn, they corrupted and controlled other clan members, tainting their flames with Madness. These flames burned not with life, but with fury and a hunger for power. They believed they could wield this power to protect Molten Cradle, their corruption leading them to believe they could use it without consequence.
They were wrong.
When Ignarok’s family, the royal line of Vulcans, heard of this secret from Nuri’s mother, they sought to reason with the Burning Hawk Clan. Ignarok’s father, the King of Molten Cradle, arrived with a council to confront the clan and offer assistance. But by then, Madness Hindo had its grip around the clan’s throat, twisting their sense of duty into a fierce paranoia. They saw the Vulcans not as allies, but as threats to their power.
The King extended a hand, a voice of compassion. “We are not your enemies. We wish only to help you. This Madness Hindo has corrupted you; it is not of our land and has no place here.”
Nuri’s great-grandfather, his eyes now dark with corruption, sneered, his voice a harsh rasp. “Help? You wish to steal the power gifted to us by the malevolent forces. Are you perhaps jealous that we were chosen and not you? You only wish to get rid of us and take full control of Molten Cradle for yourself! We are the rightful guardians of this land! This power can only be wielded by the worthy!”
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But his obsession with this so-called "worthiness" had led him down a dark path, one where he believed the only way to master Madness was through sacrifice. His twisted mind had latched onto a disturbing solution, six hearts, each taken from Tuners with whom he had an emotional connection. The first heart would be one from his own bloodline…
“Grandfather, why are you here?” Nuri’s mother asked softly as he appeared at her doorstep, his presence dark and foreboding. “Please leave my home.”
Her grandfather’s eyes narrowed with a chilling gleam. “Listen to me, my dear granddaughter. In order to completely control Madness, sacrifices must be made. I’ll leave you with a choice.” He crept in closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Give me your heart willingly, or I will take Nuri’s instead. And if you choose to fight me and make this difficult,” his eyes gleamed cruelly, “I’ll rip the little bird’s heart out right in front of you before I take yours.”
Nuri’s mother’s heart sank, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked at the man who once was her family. With a heavy heart, she nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “I just need a moment to say goodbye to Nuri,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.
She went to her son’s room, where Nuri lay napping peacefully, oblivious to the dark fate closing in around them. She knelt beside him, watching the steady rise and fall of his small chest, a calmness radiating from him that brought her a bittersweet ache. Gently, she brushed her fingers through his feathers, whispering a blessing she knew he would one day need. “May your flames always burn pure, and may the corruption of Madness never find you.” Her voice broke as she continued, “My son, this gift I grant upon you.”
Unknown to many, Nuri’s mother possessed a rare ability to create a seal against Madness, a protective shield that could be placed on herself or another. But it came with a price, by sealing Nuri, she would sacrifice her own protection and leave herself vulnerable. With a last, lingering look, she closed her eyes and transferred the seal onto Nuri, granting him a lifelong immunity against the corruption that had ravaged their family. It was a small comfort, though she knew it would prevent him from evolving into his humanoid form, an unavoidable cost for his safety.
With a final kiss on his forehead, she returned to her grandfather, who waited with a sinister impatience. She had no time to speak before his hand thrust forward, piercing her chest in one brutal motion. She choked back a cry, her eyes filled with anguish but also a fierce, unyielding love for her son. Her last thought was of Nuri, the flame that would one day rise above this darkness.
The corrupted elder savored the moment, his eyes gleaming as he held her heart, feeling the power thrum within it. He consumed it without hesitation. “I can feel the power surging, changing within me,” he murmured, his voice filled with a sick delight.
One heart became four more as he tore through the family, consuming his wife, Nuri’s uncle, aunt, and a close cousin, each time feeling the Madness take deeper root within him, each sacrifice making him feel more “worthy” in his twisted view.
All that remained was the final heart, the last piece to complete his dark ascension.
Inevitably, the clan, driven by Madness Hindo, launched a fierce and merciless attack on the Vulcans. What began as a single act of aggression erupted into a brutal war that would last only a year, yet its scars would mark the land for generations. The once-lush forests were reduced to smoldering ash, and rivers of water had turned to molten rivers of magma, poisoned by the spreading corruption. Even the Sea of Stars, known for its serene, shimmering lights, was darkened, its beauty swallowed by the Madness that seeped into every corner of the realm.
The war was vicious. Neither side emerged unscathed, and as the conflict reached its bloody peak, the Vulcan king himself fell in battle, his heart ripped from his chest by Nuri’s great-grandfather, consumed by Madness Hindo. In those final moments, Ignarok was left to witness the ruin of his homeland and the crushing loss of his father. The vision of the once-proud Vulcan realm, now decimated, seared into his mind, fueling him.
Desperate to end the Madness, Ignarok called upon the ancient powers of his Vulcan bloodline. This pursuit led him to the discovery of a rare Hindo capable of both consuming and purifying Madness Hindo. Empowered by this new strength, he issued a challenge to Nuri’s great-grandfather, determined to put an end to the corrupted elder’s reign of terror once and for all.
The air was thick with tension as Nuri’s great-grandfather, now fully consumed by Madness Hindo, stood at the center of the charred battleground, his massive great sword resting heavily on the ground beside him. His once-wise eyes glowed with a twisted, feverish purple, and a manic grin stretched across his face as he took in the sight of the young Vulcan lord approaching with deadly bloodlust
“Have you come to die, little Lord?” the corrupted elder sneered, his voice a harsh rasp dripping with malice. His great sword pulsing with the raw, consuming power of Madness Hindo, casting an eerie glow over the destruction around him.
Ignarok’s face was set, his jaw clenched with unyielding confidence “No,” he replied coldly, each word slicing through the tension like the edge of a blade. “I’ve come to slay the murderer of my father.”
Without another word, Ignarok lifted his own great sword, a weapon forged from ancient Vulcan steel, glowing with a vibrant, electric blue aura. His fury was palpable, his stance that of a man who had nothing left to lose but everything to fight for. The silent weight of his fury hung in the air, charging the atmosphere.
“I won’t waste any more words,” Ignarok said, his voice low, steady, and cold. “Stand and fight.”
As he summoned his Hindo, his aura shifted, igniting into a fierce, storming blaze that crackled with arcs of energy. Arc Hindo radiated from him in blinding waves, a raw and blistering storm that danced along the edges of his blade, swirling with volatile hindo. Where once his aura had been a steady flame, he now embodied the uncontained fury, "Rulers Hindo."