Chapter 61
Old Mortality
The dust and debris danced in the air, backlit by a full moon that tinged the world with a soft turquoise hue. From the chaos of the creature's landing, a scene of destruction unfurled, a brutal witness to the power that had descended upon them. Adom found himself ensnared by an all-consuming paralysis. His body refused to heed his commands, his feet as unresponsive as if they were roots entwined deep within the earth.
Beside him, Zara and Valiant were statuesque in their terror. Zara, always the unshakable force, her eyes usually as sharp as the edge of a blade, now mirrored the crimson glow of the creature's eyes, wide with a primal fear. Valiant, the mirth and jest washed clean from his being, stood rigid, the color drained from his pink nose, leaving him ghostly pale against the chaos of their surroundings.
As the dust settled like a curtain lifting after a climactic scene, the creature emerged. Its towering form was an amalgam of nature and myth, branches twisting into magnificent antlers that crowned its head, where a mane of ethereal light seemed to pulsate with life. The intricate weave of its garments bore the vibrant reds of smoldering embers and the deep, regal black of a night sky, adorned with gold that traced patterns like the pathways of stars. Aged, wise eyes, set within a face weathered like ancient bark, glowed with a deep, fiery red, casting a warm, if not unsettling, luminescence.
With every breath it took, the air around it seemed to shimmer, as if reality bent slightly around its essence. It was as if the creature were a walking paradox, both ethereal and imposingly solid, a being not bound to the laws that govern the ordinary.
Then, breaking the silence with a voice that resonated like the rustle of leaves and the crackle of a gentle fire, it spoke. "Apologies," it began, the rumble of its voice containing multitudes, from the softness of a spring breeze to the authority of a storm. "It seems I might have alerted you children."
Valiant, often the light-hearted soul, found his voice first amidst the crushing weight of the moment. His question was a whisper, quivering like a leaf clinging to a branch in a storm, "W-what are yo-you?"
The creature, an enigma wrapped in an aura of serenity, leaned down, its towering presence somehow not diminishing. "Not an enemy," it replied, the timbre of its voice grounding, yet holding the edge of distant thunder, "at least for now." The words hung heavy, a promise, or perhaps a portent, heavy with unspoken implications that sent their hearts thundering against rib cages and their stomachs churning in tumultuous unease.
Zara's composure shattered like glass upon stone. Overwhelmed, she turned aside, her body convulsing in a guttural reaction to fear and tension, leaving her dignity spilled upon the forest floor.
The creature's gaze turned to Adom, recognition flickering in its ancient eyes. "So you are the boy. Adom Sylla, was it?" The creature's knowledge of his name was a cold splash of reality on Adom's face, sharpening his fear into a pointed lance aimed directly at his chest.
Zara and Valiant, silent sentinels of shock, could only exchange wide-eyed glances with Adom, their faces painted with the hues of disbelief and dread. Unable to ask anything due to the creature's presence. Adom's mind churned like a violent sea, his name on this being's lips felt like the unraveling of the world's fabric.
How? The question thrashed in his head, a relentless beast. How did this creature know him? The reality settled upon him with the heaviness of the sky - he was the nucleus of this anomaly, the epicenter of change. The presence of the behemoth, and now, this. The realization bloomed in him, a sinister flower with roots deep in the soil of his very existence.
Chosen one.
The term flickered across his mind like a ghostly flame, igniting a cascade of connections. The deal with death, the shadowy figures cloaked in a similar, yet different veil of obscurity now standing before him – was this creature one of them? An immortal? How did it find him, and why?
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The creature's words unfurled slowly, a gentle cascade that somehow held the gravity of the entire forest. "I understand your reaction," it said, its voice a soft rumble, "but do not be so afraid. No harm will befall you." Despite the reassurance, it did little to soothe the chill wrapping around Adom and his companions' spines.
They all remained statues, carved from the living stone of their dread. The creature, unbothered by their silence, continued, "You managed to get a lot of attention, boy. Eldrin has already located you, even contacted you. Lucky I found you before he could act."
Adom's brain suddenly burst into a frenetic pace, trying to piece together a puzzle with pieces he didn't even know he had. Eldrin? The name was unfamiliar, yet it was tied to him somehow—this much was clear from the creature's imposing declaration
His encounters, his choices since his return – Adom sifted through them with the meticulous care of an archaeologist uncovering relics of a bygone era. Who had he met that was or wasn't a major part of his past narrative? Who stood out?
Mr. Biggins. The outlier. The man who seemed an ordinary figure but had displayed unnerving insight. Could he be...? But no, the puzzle didn't quite fit together yet. There was someone else, another anomaly in the encounters of his reborn life, a figure who defied the patterns he knew so well. He still remembered him.
Atar Relind.
The name floated up from the depths of his memory, surfacing with the force of a revelation. It resonated, sending vibrations through the mental web of his analysis. Relind. Relind. If he toyed with the letters, shifted them like the pieces of a runic puzzle...
Eldrin.
The pieces clicked into place, the realization dawning on him with the abruptness of a spell unleashed. Atar Relind was not just an oddity in his path—he was that Eldrin. A shiver cascaded down Adom's spine as the name revealed its secret, hidden in plain sight yet obscured by the simplest of ciphers.
Adom's eyes snapped wide open, his gaze locking with the creature's, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. It knew that he had unraveled the thread, followed it to the core of the mystery that had entangled him since his fateful rebirth. "You've realized, haven't you?" it murmured, an undercurrent of something unreadable in its tone.
Without warning, the creature raised its arms, and a surge of essentia flowed from its being like a river breaking through a dam. Adom, Zara, and Valiant watched, transfixed, as the very air seemed to weave and swirl around the creature's outstretched limbs. The stir of energy was palpable, the forest itself holding its breath.
Zara simply closed her eyes, a silent acceptance of whatever fate would befall her. Valiant, his body wracked with tremors of fear that shook him to his core, found a spark of something fierce and wild within him. His mouth opened, and from it came a raw, strident cry, “Aaaaaa-” — a battle cry without words, a primal sound that seemed to vibrate through the clearing.
The creature's spellcasting reached its crescendo, and a thick fog rolled out from its hands, enveloping Zara and Valiant, the latter still screaming with all his might. The mist was alive, moving with purpose, and as it touched them, they vanished, as if swallowed by the earth itself. The stillness that followed was deafening.
Adom, his body rigid with tension, could only stay down and stare at the spot where his friends had been moments before. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage, a drumbeat to the rhythm of his fraying sanity. He turned back to the creature, his struggle to speak palpable in the tight set of his jaw, the white-knuckle grip of his fists. But no words would come, only the silent scream of his features, contorted in a raw display of anger and desperation. As he stood there, the machinations of his brain sought reason, sought logic in the visceral torrent of his feelings. Why this surge of emotion for people he barely knew? But deep down, a whisper suggested it wasn't just about them. It was a reflection of his fear—a mirror held up to the face of his own old mortality, as if he had never escaped the absolute rule of life, staring back at him with the eyes of an ancient creature.
The creature observed him with eyes that held eons of wisdom and secrets. "No need to look like this," it said, its voice a calm balm to the tempest of the moment. "I did not kill them. They are simply not needed in the conversation I would like to have with you."
The assurance did little to dampen the pounding of Adom’s heart, yet it opened a sliver of space in his chest where the tightness had been. Not death then, but a dismissal, a sidelining from a narrative that Adom felt was spiraling out of his control. The creature’s intent was clear now—this was a dialogue meant for him alone.
In the stillness that ensued, the creature stood tall, the living embodiment of an ancient and wild world, untouched and untamed. With the ease of leaves falling in autumn, it presented itself, "My name is Mephistopheles," it declared, the name hanging in the air, an echo of times and tales long whispered in hushed tones. "And I am a demon."