The prophet was an enigmatic and mysterious figure. They’re widely regarded as the voice of the Ishgrian pantheon, able to beseech the gods directly. Legends spoke of their ability to call forth rain even after months of drought, and to bestow blessings on chosen individuals, such as the strength gifted by Crozius, god of strength, to King Hadaron through the prophet's hands. It was because of these miraculous abilities that the prophet’s words held great sway and influence.
Despite their remarkable talents, the prophet’s true name and origins remain unknown. The prophet was known to be eccentric, often making bizarre demands and behaving erratically, causing many to speculate that they had long lost their mind. However, their abilities spoke for themselves, with many individuals: including nobles and other powerful individuals would make pilgrimages just to seek their counsel and guidance in times of need.
Remuria made arrangements so that she and Rhea could make the journey to see the prophet undetected. She petitioned King Hadaron to be excused from her duties as head butler for a month-long pilgrimage. The King was surprisingly cooperative, allowing Remuria to leave so long as she could find someone who could replace her during the time she was to be gone. In fact, the King even gave Remuria permission to use horses from the royal stable should she need it. Remuria wondered whether the king’s generosity was merely on a whim or due to him recognizing Remuria’s service. Yet, it did not matter much to the head butler: the brunt of the work was done.
Meanwhile, Rhea had been forced to stay hidden within her bedroom, fearing what people may think of her returning back from the dead. Despite this, the princess’s curiosity compelled her to venture out of her bedroom each night. As the moon rose and the castle fell silent, she would leap from her balcony to the gardens below, her supernatural body allowing her to make the several story fall unscathed. With her senses heightened, Rhea explored her abilities, astonished at the things she was capable of. She could crush stones with ease and leap from the ground to rooftops in mere seconds. Though the princess did not fully understand her powers, she felt that the night now called for her: empowering her.
Remuria continued to make preparations for the pilgrimage to the prophet. Purchasing potions, rope, and other equipment that she deemed necessary for the journey. Along with the supplies, she also acquired a pair of hooded cloaks and a mask to conceal Rhea's appearance. The mask was masterfully crafted with ceramic material, its detailed carving depicted the visage of the goddess Arisine: mistress of the skies, with impressions of feathers carved to the side of the mask. All in all, it took three nights for Remuria to complete her preparations.
On the fourth night, as the moon cast its silvery light over the castle grounds, Remuria and Rhea ventured quietly under the cover of darkness to the royal stables. When they approached, they could hear the soft whinnies and rustling of the horses within. Rhea felt a twinge of excitement and anticipation as she gazed at the magnificent animals. The princess was seldom able to pursue horse riding in the past, yet, she enjoyed every moment when she could afford the time to do so.
But there was little time to admire the animals. Remuria had selected two stallions, and quickly set to work saddling them up with the supplies they had prepared earlier. As they worked, Rhea felt the warmth of the horses' breath on her face, and the soft tickle of their noses as they sniffed at her. It was a strange sensation, but not unpleasant.
Their preparations complete, the two mounted the horses and set off at a brisk pace. They wanted to make good progress while they still had the cover of night. Rhea's weakness to sunlight was a constant concern, and they did not want to risk being caught out in the open during the day.
The journey to the prophet would only require just over a week of travel on horseback, but the weight of anticipation hung heavy on both Rhea and Remuria. The prophet was known to be an enigmatic figure, his actions often unpredictable and their decisions swayed by what appeared to be the whim of the gods. They had been known to bless hardened criminals and were equally as likely to smite those who were perceived to be paragons of virtue. Despite the risks, there was no greater source of divine enlightenment that came anywhere close to the prophet.
Rhea and Remuria rode throughout the night towards the Ishgrian countryside where the prophet’s temple was located. Roughly six hours had passed since they left the castle, and the two decided to rest and let their horses drink at a nearby river before continuing their journey. Remuria was first to dismount, before helping Rhea do the same.
“Thank you kindly.” Rhea said as Remuria helped her off her horse.
“It’s my pleasure.”
The two sat down near the riverbank, their tired bodies seeking rest after a long night of riding. The peaceful sound of flowing water and chirping crickets provided a calming ambiance for their brief respite. The night was a beautiful spectacle, with the full moon casting a soft glow over the surrounding countryside. The stars twinkled above like scattered diamonds, adding to the serene atmosphere. Rhea's eyes were fixed upwards, captivated by the celestial display, lost in wonder. Remuria, however, had her attention solely on Rhea.
"Rhea?" Remuria spoke up, breaking the silence.
Rhea's gaze shifted towards Remuria, mildly startled by her voice. "Oh, sorry. What is it, Remuria?"
"I just wanted to ask how you're feeling," Remuria inquired, fidgeting her fingers slightly.
"I feel amazing!" Rhea exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "I feel so weak during the day, but now? I feel as if I could take on the world!"
"That's good to hear," Remuria responded, her tone remaining neutral.
Rhea picked up on the lack of enthusiasm in Remuria's reply. "Is something bothering you, Remuria?"
“It's just that-" Remuria paused, her eyes darting towards the direction of a faint rustling sound nearby. She lowered her voice to a hushed tone. "Wait, did you hear that?"
Rhea's attention was also drawn to the noise, her senses heightened during night time. "I did. What do you think? Bandits?" she whispered back, her hand reaching for the hilt of her sword.
"Most likely," Remuria confirmed, scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.
"I sense roughly fourteen heartbeats. You think we can take them on?"
"Absolutely," Remuria replied with a smug grin, preparing to manifest Oros: her ethereal blade. "I could do it myself if need be."
"Don't be like that, Remuria. Save some fun for me too!"
***
Ishgria was no stranger to criminals. The kingdom was simply too large for the eyes of justice to watch over completely. Law enforcement frequently struggled to cover the necessary ground, leaving room for gangs and bands of bandits to roam free. It was not uncommon for groups of bandits to travel during the night, moving their operations whilst simultaneously preying on under defended travelers or merchants. For Yivan and his gang of bandits, the night had provided them with a most fortuitous opportunity.
“Hey boss, look! Fresh meat!” The voice came from Little Finger, he was the shortest among the group, but became Yivan’s right-hand man due to his talents with lockpicking and pickpocketing.
“Well, what do you know, it seems we hit the jackpot today lads. Two fine stallions alongside two very lovely travelers.” Replied a gruff, yet commanding voice.
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Yivan had not chosen to become a bandit. In better days, he was once a humble baker, making a modest living that was enough to sustain himself and his family. Unfortunately, he chose his relationship with alcohol over his wife and kids, leaving the man destitute and penniless a few years after his second child was born. To survive, Yivan started committing petty crimes, stealing a loaf of bread here and there, picking pockets of people in crowded markets, and taking wares from shops when the owners weren’t looking. Life became surprisingly easy, until Yivan ruffled the wrong feathers, and managed to face the scorn of a group of thugs who beat him for within an inch of his life. From that day onwards, Yivan knew the value of strength, and that he too would need his own merry band of outcasts to survive.
“Aye boss, I sees them well enuff.” Chimed in a deep voice. It came from George, or Gorg as he preferred to be called: a large, heavyset man which can best be described as a sentient slab of muscle.
“Yeah, we can all see them well ya dimwit!” One of the bandits exclaimed.
“Now, now, settle down lads, it’s not every day we get opportunities as easy as this. And if my eyes don’t deceive me, I think I spy a fine lass among them.” Yivan said as he licked his lips.
“Now that’s the real prize.” Another bandit said with a laugh.
“You sure have a good eye boss!” Little Finger quipped.
The sound of rustling leaves underfoot echoed through the night as the bandits crept closer to the unsuspecting travelers. Yivan gave a subtle nod to his men, and they fanned out, forming a semi-circle around their target. Each bandit gripped a weapon tightly in their calloused hands, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Yivan himself stepped forward, his eyes glinting with greed as he assessed the travelers and their valuables. To him, they were nothing more than easy money. The horses would fetch a hefty sum on the black market, and there are no shortage of brothels looking for women to be sold into servitude.
However, the bandits were perplexed when the two travelers, instead of trying to run away, were calmly approaching them instead. The woman had a sword which shone an ethereal gray. Her companion was a masked figure, wielding a rather fancy looking two handed sword. Yivan noticed the breakout of goosebumps throughout his body, and the cold sweat that ran through his face. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a bad feeling about what was to come.
“Boss, should I start the usual spheal?” Little Finger asked.
“Yeah, sure, go ahead.” Yivan replied, a hint of doubt in his voice.
“Is zere anything rong wif ya boss?” Gorg asked.
“It’s nothing, let’s do this.”
They bandits positioned themselves strategically, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting travelers. Some held machetes, their edges dulled from countless battles. Others brandished daggers while others clutched rusted iron bars, and other makeshift weapons fashioned from whatever they could find. Regardless of their weapon or background, each of the bandits were united by a shared greed: that tonight they would have an easy prize.
“Alright, you two are unfortunate enough to face the big boss here and all of us. So best to give up your goods and we might consider playing nice.” Little finger said as he rattled his dagger.
“And don't cha even think aboot runnin’ away!” Gorg added.
For a moment, Yivan felt his confidence return. There were fourteen of his bandits, including himself, the travelers were greatly outnumbered. Even if one of them had some fancy magic sword, surely they wouldn’t be able to take out all of his men. In fact, the magic sword would probably make a fine addition to the loot he’s going to sell off after all is said and done.
When Yivan saw Little Finger’s head split from his body, he could barely register the fact. Suddenly, he saw his men being torn apart by the two travelers. The one with the gray sword was terrifying enough, cutting down nearly half of his men with ease. Yivan could only watch as the woman danced around his men’s strikes, before retaliating with lethal thrusts from her magical blade. Yet, the masked one gave Yivan the most pause. Where the woman was at least masterful in her movement, the masked one attacked like a ravenous beast.
He then observed As Gorg swung his massive club at the masked traveler, Yivan held his breath, expecting to see the figure crushed under the impact. But to his shock, the masked one vanished in a blur of motion, leaving Gorg's club to strike the ground with a thunderous crash. Yivan couldn't believe his eyes. He knew then that his group was outmatched.
By the time Yivan had realized what was going it was too late. He felt a blade pressed against the back of his neck whilst the last of his men had fallen. It was a surreal experience, he had never seen anyone, or anything move like the two travelers, they barely seemed human.
“Drop to the ground with your hands behind your back, I suggest you make this easy for me.” The voice came from the woman with the gray sword.
Yivan obeyed the command. He was in no position to protest, not after what he had just seen.
“Ooh, so is this what a bandit leader looks like?” The voice came from the masked one, upon closer inspection, Yivan realized that the masked traveler was also a woman. He couldn’t fathom how his entire gang was bested by only two people, let alone two women.
“It is Rhea, bandits are not uncommon in these parts.”
Yivan watched as the masked woman casually strolled towards him. The masked one appeared to look at him with great curiosity, as if he were some exotic animal in a zoo.
“Are bandits usually so ugly, Remuria?”
“Not necessarily, but criminal life can be punishing to the mind and body.”
The bandit leader stayed silent as the masked woman examined him from head to toe. Part of him could barely resist trying to jump at her, but Yivan knew better than to take his chances, at least not for now.
“Could you hold him still for a moment? The smell of all this blood is getting to me, I think I need to drink.”
“Of course, Rhea, take your time.”
Yivan’s brow furrowed at the exchange. The two travelers seemed to have such a nonchalant attitude after what they had just done. He knew that he and his posse were just bandits, but fourteen people had just died, and the two travelers seemed to act as if nothing had happened. The bandit leader’s shock would only become more apparent as his eyes widened at what he saw next.
The masked woman lifted part of her mask and knelt down towards one of the dead bandits. She lifted his neck and bit down into it with her fangs. Yivan stared silently as the woman appeared to suck out copious amounts of blood out of his dead comrade, turning him into a pale, shriveled husk within a minute. He could only watch powerlessly as the masked woman repeated the process a few more times, turning the bodies of his former friends into even more decrepit husks. Then, his heart lurched when the masked woman turned and walked towards him. As she approached, Yivan could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could see the blood on her lips. Despite her human form, there was something undeniably otherworldly about her. Her movements were far too graceful. like an apex predator stalking its prey.
“Thanks for keeping him still, Remuria, hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
“No issues here, he’s actually rather obedient.”
“That’s good to hear, I want to try speaking to him if possible.”
Yivan heard a “go ahead,” come from behind him as he felt the blade at his neck pressed a bit deeper, drawing some blood from his skin.
“What’s your name bandit?” the masked woman asked him.
The bandit leader couldn’t find it in him to reply. Both because he felt a bitter rage at the death of his men and because he couldn’t hold back a deep sense of fear which gnawed at his mind.
“Answer her, or you answer to my blade.”
Even with the threat looming over him, Yivan’s tongue remained frozen. He had seen much during his life: daylight robberies, murders, and gang wars, none of them irked him as much as the situation he found himself in now. Forced to yield while he watched the men he had carefully gathered and supported for nearly a decade disappear in an instant.
“Don’t push him too much, Remuria, I think he’s too scared to speak. His heart is beating very fast.”
“Should I force him to speak then, Rhea?”
“No need, I think this is a perfect opportunity for me to experiment.”
The masked woman began to chant words that Yivan could barely comprehend. Her voice grew louder, her incantation filling the air with a haunting resonance. The masked woman’s hands moved in intricate patterns, tracing out strange symbols in the air. With each passing moment, the spell grew in intensity, and Yivan could feel an otherworldly force gathering around him. He felt blood begin to pool inside his skull, the vision in his eyes turning red. His breath became more bated, limbs shaking uncontrollably. He felt a searing pain, as several of his veins burst and he began to choke on his own blood.