I’m a Templarian.
The thoughts still plagued Iris in her dreams. What did this all mean for her future?
One day, you will have to choose between the life of a mortal and the life of a Templarian.
What if she didn’t want to choose? Why did she have to choose? Why is this her future?
Iris woke up to the dark of the night; the campfire had gone out and Bellona was sleeping soundly and Arylos nowhere to be found. She rose from her makeshift bedroll, unable to shake the thoughts of this realisation; her mind continued to swim even in her waking thoughts.
“Why is it me?” she heard a familiar growling voice from behind her. She turned and the shadow of a man with glowing red eyes came up beside her.
“Why does it have to be me?” Arylos told Iris, sitting down next to her. “Why can I not escape? What does this mean for my life? My future? My children? My hopes and dreams? ”
Iris bowed her head. He was voicing all of the questions running through her mind.
“I know those thoughts all too well,” Arylos continued with a deep sigh. “You start to think it’s not fair. Sure, it means your life is different but that’s exactly the problem.”
“What does all of this mean?” Iris asked Arylos.
“It means whatever you want it to mean,” Arylos responded. “It can mean that you are something more than what you thought, but it can also make no difference. The only reality is that your blood is divine; how you live with that is up to you entirely.”
“But it does change everything,” Iris lamented. “I’m not human then, am I?”
“You still are,” Arylos answered. “You just have the potential to evolve. All species do; you just have an advantage.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, looking towards Arylos.
Arylos took a deep breath before he explained. “All species that live are the same; divines, mortals, dragons, monsters. They are all of the same stock. What you call ‘divinity’ is just a few extra steps in evolution; immortality is just an increased lifespan over thousands of generations of said evolution. Life moves forward even if it has nowhere to go.”
“I’m no different than the gods?” Iris clarified.
Arylos scoffed as he replied. “The ants crawling on the ground look to you and your magic, your armour and language, your scale and power to crush them under your foot without a thought. Would they not believe you as gods then?”
Iris thought about the metaphor and realised what Arylos was telling her; the Templarians are a people of immense strength that can wipe them out easily, with magic beyond her understanding, and more advanced armour.
However,
“They are just people,” Iris concluded the startling realisation. “They are just people that have power; power we could one day achieve.”
Arylos nodded. “Every Kaiyumian has the potential to evolve just like the Templarians, and you have during your war against the Reig. Give a few more millennia and the right circumstances and you could grow more. But you, with your blood, you don’t have to wait those thousands of years.”
“And what about the Titans?” Iris asked. “Are they the same?”
Arylos sighed, his face now carrying sorrow of some kind. “One would say we were different,” Arylos explained, his expression pained, “that we were more evolved, that we were stronger. But we were no different; we lived and suffered the same mistakes and died because of it.”
“What happened to your people?” Iris pushed forward.
Arylos shook his head, unwilling or unable to tell the truth. “We died by our own hubris,” Arylos finally answered, “because we thought we were so much better and ended up being lower because of that pride.”
It was then that Iris realised why Arylos knew the questions flowing around in her mind. Why did it have to be her? Why can she not escape? What does this mean for her life? Her future? Her children? Her hopes and dreams?
Arylos, the last of his kind, was asking himself the same questions, and he may never know the answers.
Iris felt a tear stream down her cheek; it was the only answer she could give to Arylos. That this was a fate they would both now share; drifting alone through the universe asking the same questions with no answers.
“Arylos,” Iris began, “if I don’t want this and my children have to make this decision, can you be there for them? Like you have been for me?”
Arylos smiled as he answered. “You know where I’ll be.”
Iris felt comfort in Arylos’s words and presence. He has been a constant and he will remain that way. Yet there was one burning question Iris needed answered; something that would hurt Arylos but she needed to know.
“Arylos,” she began, nervous for what she would ask, “why–”
Arylos suddenly turned away, his eyes gazing through the trees like he heard something, his attention focused on trying to find something. He covered Iris’s mouth as his eyes frantically searched the trees.
“Get your sword,” he whispered to Iris as he slowly stood, unsheathing his burning sword and growling in anger.
Iris reached for Helion and pulled it from its scabbard as it roared to life and woke up Bellona who jumped up with her sword in hand.
The trio stood, waiting for Arylos’s lead. Something was in the trees. Suddenly, countless soldiers in black armour came from the trees with swords held high, screaming war cries as they approached the group yet stopped just before them, surrounding them in a circle of swords.
“I thought it strange when my scouts didn’t return,” a voice called out from the group of soldiers. “And even stranger when I saw a shadow skulking about the forest.”
From the group, a man in black and grey ornate armour with the face of a dragon on the breastplate came forward. He sported a large greatsword and a red cape upon his back. His skin was pale but hair long and red with a thick red beard.
“Imagine my surprise when I found you three,” he continued, starting to laugh.
Arylos sniffed, as if he smelt something foul in the air, and bellowed an even deeper growl. “So you’re the one behind the attacks,” he growled, gritting his teeth.
“I am simply a good soldier following orders,” the man responded.
“Orders?” Arylos asked aloud and looked in the sky and growled. Iris looked up as well but could find nothing besides the tree canopy.
“So that’s how it is,” Arylos continued with a scoff, “I really thought we were past all of this. Trying to bring about another war?”
The soldiers laughed as if in unison. “I wouldn’t call it war,” the big man said and he readied his greatsword. “We of the Black Fangs intend to bring about peace and order to this land.”
“By killing innocent villagers?” Iris spat back, starting to lose her temper.
“And what do you plan to do with your prisoners?” Bellona jumped in.
“A necessary sacrifice for the greater good,” the man said with a smile, “those villagers were only a step towards–”
A flash of light and flames flew by and the man’s head slid from his neck and he fell to the ground with Arylos behind him, sword covered in blood and flames leaping from his body.
The soldiers paused and then screamed out in unison and charged the group. Iris struggled to keep up with them on this scale, not having any time to think or consider her next action. Cut. Cut. Block. Parry. Move. Cut. She found herself able to parry many of the soldiers’ attacks but she knew that it was all because Helion was taking partial control of her body.
Bellona used her shield to knock away many of the group so she could focus one at a time. Eventually, the two women ended up back to back, trying to repel the numbers of soldiers coming at them; their numbers seemingly endless as they ran towards them with murderous intent.
“Hey Iris,” Bellona called out, partly enjoying the thrill, “got anymore of those white flames in you?”
“I think so,” Iris answered, “but I don’t think I can control that power yet.”
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“Now’s the time to try!” Bellona called out. Iris could then hear a strange sound emanate from Bellona and when she turned to look, she saw an orange light begin to glow from under Bellona’s skin, like her veins themselves were on fire and there was power trying to escape from the thin veil of her flesh. The orange light covered her entire skin and her eyes shone like brilliant orange gems.
“Ad victoriam et mortem, gloria et violentia, igne et sanguine,” Bellona chanted in a low and bellowing voice as the power within her surged. She lifted her sword high and it began to glow with the same light, like the stone blade burned with the fires of war itself.
"ILLI FAC ME INVICTA!" Bellona bellowed in an inhuman howl that sounded like war trumpets. She then charged the men with enough force that the ground crumbled beneath her and began cutting through the hordes of soldiers as her howling laughter filled the air.
She is a goddess of war, destruction, conquest, and bloodlust.
Bellona deserved all of those titles and more as she tore through the men with her shape shifting sword; their screams of pain and death like a soothing orchestra to the Templarian. Iris had only seen Arylos have such bloodlust; such desire and pleasure in destruction and death. Iris wondered if this is what she is like without her wings and divine power, what was she like with them? And if she had them when she fought Arylos, just what is his upper limit?
Iris took her chance while the men were routed and she tried to call on her anger, thinking back to the dying father in the village looking for his daughter. Thinking back to Nageki and her father’s death. Thinking back to when Arylos was seriously injured by the Arkin of Torasu.
Yet nothing came to her.
Her anger yielded her none of that strength she had in her.
“Helion!” Iris called out mentally, “where are those white flames?”
Notice: I have been monitoring and cannot find an explanation for the lack of power.
“What?!” Iris could feel her temper practically explode as she kept pushing away soldier after soldier. “I could call on it so easily before; why not now?”
I am trying to investigate the reasoning, Helion explained, yet I’m not having any conclusive results. It’s as though the divine blood in you is refusing; your body is not taking on any changes, nothing is awakening.
If Iris’s anger about Nageki or anything else wouldn’t trigger her power, then her anger about the whole situation would. She was getting upstaged and she knew it; she had nothing on Bellona when it comes to power, strength, even personality or beauty wise. Why does she have to be so perfect?
Iris howled as she gave up on finesse and technique and instead began cutting through the soldiers much like Bellona was, her anger starting to awaken new hatreds within her.
She even has a bigger chest than I do! Iris thought to herself as her jealousy peaked.
If she couldn’t grow her fury the traditional way, this is how she wanted to approach it. Her vision turned red, both from the bloodlust and from the blood splashing on her face, as she lost herself to the glory of battle. She hoped they would keep coming so she could cut down more. Was she beginning to enjoy it? Was this something awakening in her? She couldn’t tell, she couldn’t care, she couldn’t resist.
That’s when it hit her.
A shockwave of flames knocked both her and Bellona to the ground along with the other men they were fighting. They quickly rose to their feet and Iris felt her heart sink as she was greeted by an all too familiar sight.
Arylos was shrouded by flames and four black wings rose from his back, his nails now grown to long talons and his teeth sunk deep into the neck of one of the soldiers, growling a tone that resonated through the air with his sword laying on the ground with the flames extinguished. He twisted his jaw and split the man’s head from his body, revealing his teeth now turned into long claw-like fangs. The flames recollected around him and took the form of a massive set of wings as his laughter could be heard in the minds of all witnessing the spectacle of evil.
Many of the soldiers began to flee but Arylos caught them, somehow moving nearly instantaneously, and tore them apart with his bare hands. Like a monster from the deepest pits of hell, he tore flesh from bone and liberated souls from husks of flesh. He enjoyed the screams, the pain, the suffering and laughed as he tore them asunder.
One soldier rushed towards the creature and Arylos grabbed something unseen in the air and the soldier was locked in place, dropping his sword and grasping at his neck. Arylos laughed and raised his arm and the man began to float in the air, his gasping breath filling the air along with an ominous hum.
“Go on now. Sing for me,” Arylos growled in a sinister voice. “Sing your prayers, your sins, and rejoice for your damnation.” Arylos then tightened his fist slowly as the man screamed and blood poured from his mouth and the neck on his flesh compressed with fingers imprinted upon the flesh. He then closed his fist and the man’s neck exploded, head and neck separated falling to the ground.
For the first time, Iris was truly scared of what Arylos had become.
Many of the men looked on in terror with some charging Arylos, to which he scoffed and dug his claws into the necks of the fools. The skin around their wounds darkened and the men screamed in agony before falling silent as the black colour spread through their skin and shrivelled as if the life was drained from them.
A part of Iris wanted to run, to scream, to hide. But could she? Her heart was torn between fearing the monster and also knowing that monster was her friend who had not left her side.
The rest of the men began to run, to Arylos’s annoyance. He reached out with his hands and his black wings shifted, like shadows lit by candle flame shifting with the flickering wick. The wings of pure shadow then erupted and pierced the men with blades on the end of black, burning chains. Arylos then reached for a group of the chains and pulled and the bladed chains were pulled through their bodies, pulling out bone, organs, and limbs with them as the chains returned to their master and danced around him like spinning flames, protruding from his back instead of the black wings.
Bellona could only watch, horrified. She lived for battle, for death and glory, for the screams of soldiers as they died doing their duty and fighting the good fight. But this was something different. This wasn’t Arylos anymore; this was a monster, the same monster that tore her wings off at Onaria all those years ago. The creature that the Templarians feared; the one who would set the sky on fire as he destroyed all there is.
Just what the hell is he? The two women thought to themselves in unison.
One soldier remained, staring at the monster of flame and death, whispering prayers of salvation with his legs shaking in soiled trousers. Arylos looked at the man, eyeing him down with burning red eyes and slit pupils like the soldier was a cut of meat Arylos wanted to sink his teeth into.
The soldier then dropped his sword and turned to run. As if driven by instinct and under its own will, one of the chains whipped the man, cleaving a sheet of flesh from his back and beheading him with another lightning fast lash of the bladed chain as the man was falling to the ground.
Arylos stood deathly still as the chain returned to him, still growling under his breath as he slowly turned to face the women; his eyes with slit pupils burning like flames with hate and bloody fangs smiling.
“You cannot stop him…” a hoarse voice spoke.
Arylos looked down and grabbed a soldier by the head who was still alive, albeit barely. The man took shallow breaths as he continued. “He is the shadow of the daytime sky. He is the son of the King. He is the one who brings salvation.”
“Who are you talking about?” Arylos snarled in a resonating voice.
“He will reignite the flames of war,” the man continued, as if oblivious to Arylos’s question. “He is the sword of war. He is the hand of death.”
Arylos growled deeper and his grip on the man’s head tightened, yet the man did not stop.
“He is the one true king,” he continued, oblivious to the pain as Arylos’s claws dug into his skin. “He is the ruler of this land. He is the one who brings pain and the bliss of death. For He is the Destroyer King.”
Arylos’s hand suddenly closed and the man’s skull exploded under the sheer grip as his headless body hit the ground. He then looked to his bloody clawed hand and closed his fist, like he was searching for something and yet did not find it. The flames emanating from his body began to fade and his chains folded and disappeared under his skin as his body began to slowly return to normal.
He looked up to the women, his eyes now normal with a dull red glow. “Are you two alright?” he asked, his voice now normal.
Neither of the two could bring themselves to answer, still processing what they saw and the horde of bodies laying on the blood-stained ground; the sight from the tapestry Iris burned.
“Iris,” he called out softly and reached out to her, but she instinctively backed away from him. She was afraid. This Arylos was different and she could say nothing as more tears streamed down her cheeks.
Arylos withdrew his hand and looked to Bellona who could only shake her head. “You lost yourself; you weren’t yourself anymore,” she told him in a quiet voice.
Arylos lowered his head; he had nothing he could say, no explanation he could provide.
Iris broke the silence. “What are you?” she asked him.
What are you? A seemingly simple question, but one Arylos could not find the answer for. He heard it repeat in his head several times. Iris, the only person to see him as a person now sees him as something different, and that hurts in a way he didn’t expect. She deserved an explanation; they both did, but are there words that can explain this? What would they even think?
Arylos shook his head. “I wish there was a simple way to explain it all to you, but there isn’t. I can’t physically explain any of this to you in a way you can understand.”
“Then keep it simple,” Iris interjected.
Arylos thought for a moment, trying to find the words. “You call me a spiritual being, and that is not too far from the truth. Yet it is not the whole truth. I am a Vlajhilsen, a Titan. I am not a man, nor a god, nor a spirit. I simply…am; I exist and that is the truth.”
Arylos bowed his head and clenched his fist. “I have no words nor way to tell you what I am. You cannot understand me, and I cannot change that.”
The two women stared at the Titan in silence, unable to find words of their own.
“Come now,” Arylos said after taking a shuddered breath. “We still have a job to finish and a kidnapped girl to save.”
Iris collected herself. Serhas; she was still out there.
Arylos picked his sword up from the ground and returned it to his sheath. “On my patrols, I saw a caravan of soldiers continue up towards the mountains. We’ll have to search there to see where they are taking them. And we’ll have to move fast; death would be a better fate than what awaits the prisoners.”
Iris thought for a moment before she announced a realisation. “You mean that soldier that was talking all of that religious nonsense?”
Arylos nodded. “He was enthralled by a deep magic.”
Bellona came forward, sword on her shoulder. “Enthralled? By who?”
Arylos shook his head. “I have an idea, but I hope I’m wrong. It’s likely they were all enthralled so we’ll have to move quickly; no more camps from here.”
Arylos came back to the women and rested his hands on their shoulders. “I plan to help these people of my own free will because no one else will. I cannot ask you to trust me, but I hope that this will let me earn your trust.”
The two women nodded and as a group, they made their way towards the eastern mountains under the cover of night, ready to end this once and for all and strengthened under these trying forces.