The Wielder of Death Magic

“Greetings my prodigy.” A voice spoke, the darkness surrounding Staxius vanished a little for a speck of light manifested. It came out of nowhere and dimly lit. However, as dim as it may be, amidst the abyss – said dim light felt like the sun.

“I knew it,” he sighed, “-greetings Lord Death.”

“Why do you hold such contempt?” He asked rhetorically. “Is it because I’ve taken your conscience unwillingly?”

“What is the point of asking a question if you’re going to answer it.” Staxius fired back.

“My oh my, someone has grown over the years. No matter, my visit here isn’t purely for us to reminisce. I’ve come here to give you a warning, it’s more like a prophecy. I shan’t tell you some convoluted poem describing the end of the world – rather, I’ll say it however I feel like it.” The dim light grew closer, its amber flame fell atop and lit Staxius’s nose. “Years ago, I sent you premonitions about Krigi burning down. Yes, I was responsible for those dreams. Today, I was supposed to do the same but chose not to. My actions in the past have gotten me severely reprimanded by the other gods; especially Kronos. I wrongly tricked him into showing me your future; I say wrongly but I lawfully won that bet. Let’s put that aside, I often go off-track. Now back to the matter at hand.” The voice changed from cheerful to deep and stern, the words felt like thunder.

“The island of Hidros shall become a battlefield for the chosen. Thy world is teetering on the edge of destruction and salvation. A new dimension is about to be born, heroes will be summoned, champions will be born, and most importantly; the next god-slayer, otherwise known as the demon-lord shall be chosen to purge mankind from their folly. Humans have disgraced our blessings and gifts to satisfy their lust for wealth and glory. The birth of the next god-slayer shall prove to be the karma they’ve sown collectively. Tis not my responsibility to aid you in saving or destroying the world, that is for you and your people to decide. Hell, this prophecy I’m telling you is only known to us both; even the gods are clueless to what is about to befall them. Now then my heir, what will you do in this new era, save the people, and become a hero or purge them and become said demon lord; whatever you do won’t affect your ascension to the next death reaper – and with this, your dream ends.”

“Staxius…Staxius…STAXIUS.” The chilly morning breeze aided by Adelana who shook his shoulders – he awoke. The sun was rising, the sky lit with the same amber flame, the feeling of nothingness vanished. Desperate, Adelana sprinkled cold-water.

.....

“Enough, I’m awake.” Gathering his strength, the body ached all over; sleeping on the cold wall took its toll. She rose simultaneously with him as he got onto his feet. “Why are you causing such a ruckus early in the morning?” He asked while facing the sill rising sun all the while stretching. “We still haven’t decided what to tell Piers.” He turned around and stared Adelana with eyes filled with pity. “W-why are you l-looking at me like that.” She slightly fell back; that same stare looked menacing.

“Adelana,” he sighed out of grief. “-haven’t we discussed this yesterday in the council, as we speak, Millicent is probably writing the letter.” Realizing her own foolishness, Adelana patted Staxius’s back as if comforting him, then left. The castle began to liven up, outside, people sleeping inside makeshift tents – awoke. The inner yard changed from silent to cacophonous. Mothers screaming at their kids, fathers getting ready to head out to hunt or scavenge items from the war that ended a few days ago. After a quick search through the yard; Piers Riverty was spotted. He passed out outside and slept near one of the horses – the clothes were ruined.

A few hours went by, Piers Riverty now stood in front of the castle gates. His pick up was a few minutes out. Standing beside him, Millicent and Adelana. Meanwhile, everyone else was either inside helping or outside aiding in the search and rescue efforts – many people were killed. As suggested by a young merchant, Staxius agreed for the burial of the innocent as well as the people who died. In life where they were once enemies now find themselves buried together in death. What irony to fight against each other just to end up buried together, a mass grave was dug north-west of the castle.

A thundering roar came blazing through the sky; with a hint of regret on his face, Piers Riverty left. Everyone got back to their daily routine; Staxius stood, still staring into the nothingness. Idle and unwilling to move, he continued piercing the horizon with his gaze. In his state of meditation; the same voice constantly disrupted his concentration. The conversation he had last night with Rose etched his neck closer to a sword, a sword of impending doom – he was told that Kreston and Arda were ready to invade in two days’ time. Add that, the dream he had about the world-changing also sent his thoughts in multiple directions. Over and over, he thought, using all his might, he thought.

“Arda and Kreston have decided to attack, the princess only gave us a warning and Rose confirmed it yesterday. My question is how the hell did those elves manage to go to Arda in such a short time – that province is far away and not to mention the biggest and most resourceful compared to the rest. No wonder they want to be a free nation; they can be self-sustained. How though, did the elves use a teleportation spell? Forgotten magic, practically ancient, it is possible for one to use said magic but how can one control it so easily. There must be someone or something more powerful and knowledgeable to use such spells. I don’t want to believe it but by car, it’s just improbable. If they used an airship which I doubt, then they still would have taken at least a few hours but I get the feeling that they vanished almost instantly.” The wind blew roughly, the sun, covered by clouds gave the whole area a feeling of sadness. It seemed gloomy, sadly it was no rain clouds for that would have been a blessing for the already dry-lands of Dorchester. Staxius changed his position and walked over to gaze over to where the noble district was.

“Do people still live there? Most of the nobles here defected, I don’t see a reason why someone would stay there. Come to think of it, I’ve never actually been there, I’m a noble and reason goes to say that I must also have a property of my own. A property that I would never use for I’m alone. The noble district is awfully close to Arda and Oxshield, if memories serve well – all the money was used to make that place. Castle Garsley isn’t the real gem of this province but the noble district… Arda is close to said gem. No, this isn’t possible.” The realization hit like inspiration, after reflecting upon the same problem for hours on end, he got an answer that seemed to be the most probable. His stance changed from relaxed to cautious. As if preordained, the radio intercepted a message.

“S-Staxius, we’ve got reports that Kreston is going to invade in one day. Arda, on the other hand, we have no clue.” Static white noise made it difficult to hear clearly but he knew.

“Kreston is going to invade Frostrest and make way to castle Garsley, and Arda will not join them. The distance is just too far out, my guess is that Arda will take its army and march from the other side. Kreston will take the blunt force while Arda is providing support; unless they have another plan in mind. I don’t know yet, but Kreston and Arda will not fight as one. For the one time in my life, I hope the princess uses her not so pleasing personality and pressure Arda into not attacking. So many years has past and she still ails me, that princess, I wish I knew her personally.”

*Fenrir, god-slayer, and devourer of the sun heed my call, for I, your master has summoned thee.* The previously gone Fenrir was called back from her mission. Staxius had sent her to check out the noble district, it was done when she was called forth in Thunderstain’s headquarters.

“Hello master,” she leaped in for a tight embrace to which Staxius graciously accepted.

“Greetings Fenrir,” he smiled. “How was the trip to the noble district?” he asked.

“I… hmmm, oh, yes, there are people living in there – it feels like they are hiding from someone or something. The aura they are desperately trying to hide is one of fear and distress. Also, when you sent me there, I spotted what appeared to be elves going through a greenish portal just before entering the town. And before you called me back, I sensed a faint trail of magic; it’s ancient and powerful – my guess is something has targeted the town.” With that, her report ended.

“Thank you very much Fenrir,” he patted her head affectionately, “-I can always rely on you. Now go, Eira was looking for you.” With a courteous smile; she vanished.

“I guess it’s time to start preparing for the impending battle.” With that Staxius went into the throne room and waited. A few hours went by, life in the castle, as well as outside, had become somewhat peaceful. The atmosphere wasn’t that threatening. The place truly was a haven for the needy.

One by one, the members of the temporary council all took their seats. The tension in the air was palpable, Staxius’s face looked gloomy and serious.

“Now that everyone’s here, I’d like to reveal to you some information I’ve gathered,” Staxius spoke, minutes turned to hours, he explained in detail what he had found.

“And so, we need to send aid to support Frostrest; that village holds more credit than we acknowledge. If Kreston is to take over that village and monopolize Brisnet Heights into their advantage; we’ll lose a good portion of our land. Not to forget that from there on they can establish a supply route and constantly attack us all the while conquering the northern part of Dorchester. Add Arda who will most likely attack us from the western side, I predict castle Garsley falling in less than a week. I don’t like this but our fate lies solely in that princess’s hands. I apologize for being weak, but seeing how we are now, retreat isn’t an option nor is fighting. So, instead, I’ve decided to send Eira to the capital. I’ve made arrangements for her enrollment at Claireville Academy. We need to put her under the Order’s protection as soon as possible. And for the rest of you, I apologize but you will have to fight a losing battle on my behalf. I’m sending you silver guardians to help with the extraction of the remainder of villagers in Frostrest, the trip will be slow seeing as you’ll have to go around the mountain. By my count, it will take more or less two days to make it there and two days to get back. You’ll be using the transport trucks that bring in food; we don’t have that much but we’ll make do with what we got. Adelana will oversee the extraction; Alyson will be in charge of defending and lastly Ayleth, you will be playing decoy alongside Annet. Ancret, on the other hand, will be station here, we still have wounded coming in. I know this is asking a lot but you girls are the only ones I can turn to. For me, I will be heading westward; I’ll stall Arda on my lonesome. Millicent will manage things here and Fenrir will be part of the silver guardian’s escort.”

“Master, that’s a lot to take in and process; but we trust you,” Adelana spoke on the behalf of everyone.

“Before I conclude this meeting, there are two objectives that you need to accomplish if we are to stand a chance. Firstly, Brisnet Height must not be conquered at all, and secondly, you, my companions as well as the villagers are to make it here alive.”

“Brother, what about me?” Undrar asked. Everyone forgot she was present. “Well you, my dear sister, are the last hurdle our enemies have to cross before taking castle Garsley; the final boss.” No further questions were asked, Eira got the news about her father’s decision; she was furious. The silver guardians got ready as well as Staxius who still wore the same old grey suit. For the first time, the fate of Dorchester laid in the hands of the ruthless princess and for the first time, Staxius and she saw eye to eye. A revolution was good and all, but bringing in innocent civilians and threatening an already war-torn country turned out to be the last drop of water that overflowed the cup.