Breath of Fire VIII (3rd Avarice Fanfic)

[Avarice]

Well here it is, the third and potentially the final installment of my fan fiction series! It's been a long time coming so I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I've enjoyed writing it

This fan fiction contains content that is inappropriate for readers under the age of 18: Strong Language, Intense Violence, and mature themes.


Breath of Fire VIII


Chapter 1: Dying Ironically


Near the center of a wasteland rose a forest of black-needled pines. In the center of that forest rose a mountains and rocky hill. Upon the top of that hill stood a castle overlooking the forest and the wastelands beyond.
At first glance, such a scene wouldn’t be too chilling to the blood, but one would not be seeing the picture in it’s full glory. One would not see the full silvery moon rising high above the dark gothic pinnacles of Castle Wolf, nor would one hear the spine-freezing howls of the Dire Wolves roaming the Blackwood forest surrounding the palace.
Neither would one hear the moans of the zombies that roamed the dry and barren wastes were only death seemed to dwell. Indeed, the one who glanced would probably regret his lack of attention when from the soil beneath his very feet begun to rise legions of undead, undead obeying only the call of their master.
Such was the relatively sad tale of the outlaw pariah who found his way out from the rural mining country of Dauna in the West into these wastelands, through the checkpoint in which no living man had ever returned. His face was covered in a dirty wrap, initially he had worn it during the day to block the dust from choking him and blinding his eyes… now in the freezing cold of the night, wherein sweat turned to frost, it was used to keep his blue lips from totally freezing solid. At least this way, he could scream for help.
Behind the man as he doggedly ran and stumbled his way over the rocky wastelands of this unknown and horrifying land, an organized force pursued him. Led by an eight-foot tall Dire Wolf whose eyes burned a deep burgundy and whose coat was of the darkest grey, the assortment of skeleton warriors and fully intelligent ghouls howled in delight as they herded their victim onwards towards Blackwood.
The man drew his shortsword. It was bent, rusted. How he ever thought it would hurt the wolf was beyond him when he threw it backwards over his shoulder. The weapon did indeed strike the wolf, in fact it struck the wolf in the face, but it did nothing at all to harm the creature… after all, it was mostly monster. It, like all others of its kind, had been transformed by the evils of black magic to suit the bidding of the ancient family that had so long dominated this horrid landscape.
Turning about and shaking his head in terror, the man nearly froze as he topped the coming ridge. Oh-so suddenly before him was laid out an image straight from his most terrifying of nightmares. Before him lay Blackwood, the towering pines of black needles that radiated an aura evil enough to have long since earned the respect of the demons of hell.
Naturally, he pause was all it took. From behind the Dire Wolf leapt over the man’s head and came to land before him, bearing it’s massive teeth and locking eyes with his puny, insignificant prey. “…N…” The man, entranced and broken by the magical gaze of the wolf, tried to mutter in protest. Before the ‘O’ could be vocalized did he drop like a stone to the ground… totally and completely unconscious. Satisfied, the Dire Wolf glanced back to the towering citadels of the Castle before him and the force he had assembled, and howled.

Watching, Count Gideon Wolf smiled evilly.

The man woke in a dark place, a castle of black stone and deep purple linen, with the faintest traces of dull gold. A gothic masterpiece of art, he was so taken aback by the beauty of that strange place that he almost… almost… forgot that his life was probably going to end sooner than later.
The skeleton bearing his tied and limp body dropped him roughly on what the man just knew was… an altar. Sadly for the man, that was exactly what it was. “You are dismissed.” A smooth yet… so very malevolent, voice said from the side, beyond the man’s line of sight. “Help me… please…” The man begged whoever it was that was speaking, “I mean no-one any harm! I’m just trying to get away, that’s all I want! I swear it! I’ll go back, I’ll go to jail!”
“Silence.” The voice said quietly, but still somehow with a forceful edge that shut the desperate man’s beginning mouth. “Come now, my love, do not be rude.” A wicked voice of feminine beauty said coyly from the side, “Inform the sacrifice of his fate that he may come to accept it. Truly it is an honor, my love.”
Count Gideon’s slender, somewhat aged face lightened considerably. It changed, from a stoic frown of stone to a faint smile of amusement. His hair was sandy blond, slicked back. He wore a deep green outfit of velvet, lace fringes about his wrists and cascading down his chest. His hands were gloved in smooth, black leather. “…What is your name, mortal?” Gideon asked, his steel blue eyes glowing in the oh-so dim candlelight of the chandelier. “Barney…” The now sobbing man stammered in terror. “Weep not, you have been given a great honor.” The woman said, stepping and hovering her beautiful, yet oddly pale face over him. Her eyes were a luscious brown as if glazed in lacquer… her makeup, quite dark but somehow so vibrant, only reflected what lay within her soul.

…That being death.

Count Gideon and Countess Camellia were of the undead, a master and mistress of the dark arts. Black Magic, Necromancy, and Shadow magic were their tools of the trade. It was through these infernal powers that they had achieved this flawless state of undeath… they did not rot, they still enjoyed the pleasures of life… but never aged, and unless their spell was somehow broken would never die.
Shaking beyond his ability to control, Barney begun to realize this as Gideon produced a massive black-covered grimorie. It was said in many legends across the known lands of the Earth that such tomes existed only amongst the mythological beings of terror. ‘Lich’ was the term, the name given to the necromancer whose power was so vast he made himself into the undead to become immortal. “You’re a lich!” Barney exclaimed in terror, trying vainly to struggle against his binds. “Nay, nay. A lich would be a terrible hideous creature you know? Quite odorous as well.” Count Gideon replied with a bit of a smirk as he sat his grimorie down, “I… am far worse. Far, far worse. My mastery of the dark arts is far beyond that of most of my ancestors, let alone the mortals of this pathetic, sun-drenched Earth.”

And so it began… the ritual, the end of Barney’s life.

[Avarice]

Emily heard the screaming, but it didn’t phase her. A grim frown painted her delicately beautiful face as she gazed from one of the many large windows lining the walls of the palace, windows that closed themselves when the moon sat the wretched light of the hidden sun rose from the horizon. Her skin was of a pale blue color, her hair long and silvery white. She too was of the undead… but the one who had blessed her with this un-life was but a student of the dark arts, a student under the tutelage of Count Gideon… who was in fact, his father.
Dressed a deep grey robe that ever covered his rugged and bearded face, Ivan stepped out from the shadows and approached her. Turning to him, she managed to smile for the first time in quite a long time. “Life grows within the womb of my brother’s wife, concealed in the darkness of her womb does a new generation grow.” He informed her with a smile, “And soon shall this be said of you, my darkest rose.”
“…They have already begun the ritual.” Emily replied, turning her gaze away as a rush of bitter jealousy coursed their her non-beating heart, “It will not be long… if it is successful.”
Ivan nodded slowly, turning to the window. His hood cast a shadow that darkened all but his eyes, the tip of his nose, and his bearded chin. “On my life it shall succeed, Emily, again shall you draw breath.” He declared, “And in the life you are given you shall live your dream of motherhood.”
“…And what of the baby?” Emily inquired, “Will it inherit that which took my life so young, so long ago? I would not bring forth a child to this world, that it would die in my arms… and be sealed forever as I, unable to grow or feel.”
Ivan frowned heavily. “Nay, Tuberculosis shall not be passed to our child.” Ivan assured her, “Though again you shall die from it. But, at the very least, father shall bless you with the un-life he and mother lead.”
Emily’s ice-cold stare settled in on him then, a smile crossing her face. “Again shall I be of my true color?” She inquired, “No longer trapped within this wretched shell of masked decay?”
“Indeed.” Ivan returned with a smile, “No tug of life… and though you will surely shun it you may yet again stand in the light of day without fear of… eradication. Of this I assure you, happily.”
Emily smiled. “I do enjoy the thought. Death I do not fear, deprivation of bliss… is another thing entirely.” She responded, leaning against him as he put his strong arm about her slender shoulders. “I beg of you, again, for forgiveness.” Ivan said quietly, “It was my weakness that led to this.”
“I will not tell you again to keep your apology.” Emil warned Ivan with a firm edge to her voice, “Your love for me drove you to delve that far into what was, for you, the unknown. The beauty of your actions and the meaning behind them have more than made up for my misery.” “…And your presence, Ivan, eliminates said misery.”
To the unfamiliar eye, they would have all been considered a truly wretched family of evil, but to the eye who knew this family… the story was quite different. The Wolf Clan, the eternal rulers of this wasteland, were harmless to the outside world. Never had they preyed upon those beyond their borders, seeking instead privacy and secrecy in shun of the world of light.
The man whom had fallen victim to their dark side was unlucky, but in the end his fate was well deserved. He was a murderer and a thief… only the truly desperate, those fleeing the guillotine as it were, dared to flee into these lands. That was well known to that dark and mysterious family, whose powers were far more evil than they themselves ever dreamt of being.

…Though farther down the trunk of the family tree… the same could not be said.

* * *

The first rays of the sun topped the ruins to the east, piercing instantly the window of their bedchamber. Startled by the sudden light, an individual named Ryu sat up straight in bed in total shock.
No, he hadn’t slept in today. It was quite the opposite, he hadn’t been woken up already by the crying of one or both of his children! Beside him lay his beloved bride… his Queen. Her face was beautiful, as if carved from marble. Her hair was shining blue, her eyes a matching color as they opened, and an adorably sleepy smile crossed that oh-so delicate face. “...Saphira…” Ryu breathed, stroking her cheek as he leaned own and kisses her softly. “Ryu…” Saphira mumbled back, glancing over to the pair of cribs against the wall near their bed, “I… just got back in bed.”
“I slept through it?” Ryu asked, startled and alarmed. “I guess so.” Saphira chuckled with a deathly quiet tone, “Shh… please don’t wake them. They were very unhappy, and very hungry… and I’m now very, very sore.” “…Do me a favor… and… lay back down. You were blocking the light.”
It was hard for Ryu not to giggle as he lay back down. She cuddled up into his chest so tightly it was if she were the skin over his lean but taught muscles. His hand wrapped down her back, beneath the set of blue wings sprouting from her shoulder blades… the wings that signified her race… and his own, though no males of the Brood… the Dragon Clan… did not sport such appendages in human form.
They were King and Queen of the Brood by birthright and by deed. Together with their dearest of friends and family, they had twice now defied all mortal limitations, defied the Gods themselves. Three deities now lay behind them. Draconis, God of the Dark Dragons… the infernal, evil half of the Brood. Ladon, the wretched liar who had worn always a mask of benevolence… God of their side of the Brood, the Light Dragons.

Thirdly… Anfini, the third essence.

[Avarice]

Essence of what, one would ask? The God of Gods… formerly thought to be nameless. That God had been named Xenian… and in the beginnings of time when the Earth was new and the environment contained within it’s atmosphere of protection had been a paradise, he had split himself into two halves in efforts to slay the various other Gods vying for control. Those two halves had become Ladon and Draconis, whom battled each other for control as to banding together as Xenian had planned.
Which led to Anfini, the third essence… the last remnant of Xenian’s will left behind after his splice. For all of his existence he had strived to reunite Ladon, Draconis, and himself… to reform that which they had once been.
In the end through webs of lies and deceit far too thick and complex to try and unravel, Ryu and his friends had faced Anfini, had slain Anfini. That was their latest victory of the three they boasted. “...I wonder…” Saphira cooed quietly, “If I could talk you into getting me something to drink…”
Ryu smiled softly and nodded, quietly rising from their bed and exiting the room as he pulled up his lose night pants. The quiet of the castle was comforting as he made his way down the hall, took a right, and headed out to the open area of the second floor towards the dual staircases leading down to the first floor.
That was when Ryu heard the crying. He almost turned before he saw Ananias come staggering down the hall in a sleepy haze. The well-kept man’s blond hair was ragged, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a month… he didn’t even have his sword on his hip, and that was truly a rare sight indeed!
Ananias had grown a lot since Ryu had first met him. They’d actually been… less than friends at first, in fact Ananias had assaulted him in an attempt at thieving an inn. But both he and his then partner-in-crime, now fiancée, were now like family. In face, Ryu had declared Ryuichi and Yuri – his twins – would refer to Ananias and fiancée Sherri as Uncle and Aunt.
“Leo’s upset?” Ryu asked, the slurred edge of sleepiness still present in his voice. “Oh yeah, been like that all night.” Ananias yawned, his voice slightly high-pitched but, not abnormally so. “What’s wrong with him?” Ryu asked as they made their way downstairs, passing a host of servants. “I think he’s got a tummy ache.” Ananias replied with a stretch, “All I know I that, in like, thirty seconds… Sherri’s going to have a helluva mess to clean up.”
Ryu bit hit lip hard to keep from exploding into laughter. No wonder Ananias didn’t have his sword, he’d foreseen a messy diaper. “It must be great to have powers like that, Ananias.” He laughed, “I can’t predict shit… literally!”
Ananias did die laughing. “For once, a funny pun!” he laughed, “It’s great isn’t it? Too bad I can’t actually prevent things from happening yet. Oh… damn, I just thought about it… if he hasn’t already gone I could have changed something saying that…”
Oh yes, the butterfly effect. Ananias was, though it had only been recently (very recently in fact) been learned, a member of the Brood. Specifically, he was one of the Trance Clan. The Trance dragons were all of spiritual nature, all held some degree of psychic power. For all of Ananias’ life he had featured powers… the powers of the mind known as pscionics. It had only been recently revealed to him the truth behind those powers.
“…I guess I ought to be a good man and go back up there, but…” Ananias sighed as he heard Sherri start to groan in dismay, “I’m too much of a douchebag. What are you up for anyway, I don’t hear either of your two crying.”
Ryu smiled. “I woke up naturally this time, now I’m getting Saphira something to drink.” He explained as they reached the kitchen. “I hope I don’t end up being Sherri’s servant when we’re married.” Ananias returned coyly, a smart-elect’s smile crossing his face as Ryu turned a flat look his direction. “I volunteered.” Ryu replied, “Don’t judge, you ass.”
“…So she’s got you trained then. Nice.” Ananias responded with a hearty laugh, shortly before a shadow crossed into the room and silenced him. That shadow was one whom always seemed to kill the joy in the room wherever he passed, who had once been more of an enemy than a friend. His hair was grey, his eyes silver. He wore always a black leather trenchcoat, beneath clothing of dark color be they grey or directly black like his combat boots and fingerless leather gloves.
Greywolf was a man of thirty seven years. He looked his age, the aura of maturity radiated from his ruggedly handsome face. He kept always a goatee perfectly trimmed that circled his mouth and covered all but his bottom lip and the top of his chin. The look he gave them was rather cold and angry as he made his way over to the coffee pot and grabbed his cup, but that was the look Greywolf gave everyone. He never smiled, and some would say he never blinked, either. “Good morning.” Ryu offered, pouring Saphira’s glass of water. “Morning.” Greywolf returned gruffly as he sat and hunched over the table like a crone with his coffee. “Hormones suck don’t they?” Ananias asked with a wry grin, “Vic’s dug off in that ass again huh?”
“…Mind your own fucking buisness.” Greywolf spat in response, as hatefully as he felt like managing so early. “Oooh…” Ananias cooed tauntingly, an incredibly risky gesture of playfulness that Greywolf always took as disrespect. “You should know anyway… she’s still asleep and I have no intentions of waking her up.” Greywolf sighed with a roll of his eyes.
Now, a year or more ago, that would never have happened. The old Greywolf would have probably, at the very least, attempted to murder Ananias outright. The old Greywolf had no friends, the old Greywolf had no heart to feel love or remorse. He was an assassin slash mercenary… a hired killer.

But that had changed, thanks to Vic.

That story was a long one, not one either Ryu or Ananias wanted to recall at the moment. “I’ll be back.” Ryu said then as he left the kitchen and left those two by themselves. “Sure you will.” Ananias chuckled playfully, “…So, any questions? I guess you’re dying to know when Vic’s gonna go into labor.”
Greywolf gave him a hard look from beneath his brow. “Don’t go there. I’ve had enough of that joke.” He warned the psychic in all seriousness. Ananias, mature enough now to get it, nodded quietly. “Sorry,” He offered maturely (which wasn’t something the psychic did before, that was for sure), “I have a really good feeling today.”
A good feeling for Ananias usually meant the day was going to be a good one. Of course, none of them quite realized just ‘how’ good it was going to be. Ryu had just topped the stairs when another pair of friends… well, these were actually relatives in the literal sense, came from their bedchamber that morning.
One was a girl by the name of Sira… Saphira’s little sister who was ironically taller and built larger than her elder sibling. The second was a half-dragon by the name of Lavoisier… a timid and innocent child locked within the body of a growing young man far too cute for his age. Sira’s hair was relatively long, half-way down her back. It was blue as her sisters, her eyes were blue as well. Unlike her sister she generally wore black dresses and carried with her ninety percent of the time a fine, slender rapier… not that she ever used it.
Lavoisier had no weapon, for the half of him that was dragon was powerful enough without them. He was half warrior slash fire dragon, and looked the part. As all members of the Warrior clan of the brood, he sported the legs, forearms and claws, tail, horns, and wings of a dragon. His hair was a shining red in color, his eyes burning orange. His scales were of a deeper shade than his hair but still managed to shine in the sunlight.
“Good morning!” Sira said happily as Ryu passed them. “Good morning Sira!” Ryu replied with a smile, though he never did actually stop walking. “Are the twins awake? I wanna see my niece and nephew!” Sira giggled excitedly, clinging to Lavoisier’s side. “I doubt they’re up yet, sorry.” Ryu said quietly as he came to his door, “But as soon as they wake up we’ll bring them to see you.”
Lavoisier smiled and yawned, a huge and outrageous yawn like no other. Unfortunately the clumsy boy’s tail went haywire and smacked the wall as he stretched… and that was all it took to wake the infants within Ryu’s chamber as he opened the door.

…Lavoisier’s skin was as red as his scales when he heard the crying.

* * *

[Avarice]

The majesty of the world about them was beyond the comprehension of the living, the mortals still trapped upon the Earth. Blissful was every second of every day here among the paradise that the mind created for oneself in the realm known as Heaven. So many spirits wandered here, ancient ones, fresh arrivals. None of them could remember what pain felt like, what sorrow truly even was. There was no such thing as anger here, nor greed nor strife… for this all had been built with perfection.
Upon their thrones did Kaiser and Sei sit. The golden son of Ladon who had redeemed himself in life and death, the bride of Kaiser who had always been hailed as the Goddess of the Ice Dragon Clan. Her beauty was unbound, his majesty and power without limit or rival. They had died, but they were ascended. Godhood achieved, they now looked over the Brood.
“…Our son seems to be doing well, don’t you think?” Sei asked, her voice as beautiful as one could imagine. Kaiser smiled, she had the face to match it. “Indeed he is, fatherhood is not a task one takes lightly… the challenges are many, but the reward is great.” He replied, “In the end I do believe he realizes the reward will go to his children… and he fights for them.”

Sei gave him a look. “Changing a diaper is not a fight.”

So sayeth a woman… Kaiser thought privately as he propped his chin in his palm and gazed out across the throne room of their palace, where was being celebrated the birthday of a new citizen. He was… an unlikely soul to be found here, to say the very least. His entire mannerism was quite the opposite of everyone else, but it was understood that his pokes and jabs of sarcasm were all in jest.
Eversor was his name, and he had died at the hands of Anfini. A dark dragon was he, whose black soul had been broken upon the tragic death of his family… that being his wife and children. The grief and anger had driven him away from his people, had driven him to the light dragons… on top of the fact that at the time, the Goddess Myria had begun hunting and slaughtering their race with blessed worshippers transformed by her power into guardians.
Among the souls in celebration were the deceased parties of Aske, Occisor, and an old man named Deus. Aske had been the leader of the Defender Clan, Occisor the leader of the Warriors, and Deus had been the leader of the Radiance clan. All of course being of the Brood, all of course more than happy to be here after death.

…Especially Deus, who had been the unwilling victim of possession via Ladon.

Kaiser rose from his throne in the midst of the celebration and exited through a door in the back of the room away from the others. A cloud had passed through his mind, he sensed clearly the impending arrival of evil upon the Earth. Sei followed him, she too felt the tug, and lamented that no rest could be had for Ryu, family, and friends.
“…Our son is strong, fear not.” Kaiser said to her as she joined him down the hall they had entered. “But Kaiser, Ryu should not need face more danger already.” She argued with a shake of her head. “…That is true, but fate cares not for principle.” Kaiser returned as he turned his golden gaze back to her, “Xenian is returning. It is only a matter of time… merely… time…”

This was true, far more true than anyone wanted to imagine.

One would gaze upon the afterlife, as one would gaze upon a tall building missing a wall. Heaven was obviously of the highest story. The lowest would be the pits of the ever-burning caverns of hell. The middle, however… was entirely different from that which sat above and lay below it.
The void, it was called. A haze of nothingness… sometimes a dark fog, sometimes a light fog. Through this place drifted the souls of those lost forever, where slain souls traveled to upon perishing. Among the myriad of lost souls trapped forever in this horrid place where the souls of demons, angels, even… Gods.
Hidden away within the depths of the void did Anfini drift amongst the deep fog, drawing into himself the petrified souls of Draconis and Ladon. This process had taken him no time at all, Ladon’s post-death depression had rendered him defenseless, helpless… and Draconis’ soul had been his to begin with thanks to Ryu, whom he aided in destroying the dark dragon God.
Anfini’s form was nearly invisible, his eyes alone shined through the fog. Into the core of his being the power of Ladon and Draconis’ souls was absorbed. Through the entirety of his body seeming to fill with color, illuminated by the power so quickly filling his body and soul.
No… it would not be long now. It would not be long before Anfini, Draconis, and Ladon came together again and became one. It would not be long before their identities were lost, replaced by but one singular God above all others. The void could not contain him, he denied that place it’s status as a prison of spirits. But that did not necessarily mean he would act as one might suspect… no, he wasn’t going to tear through the walls of time and space and charge the Earth with his wrath worn on his sleeve.

Xenian was, tragically, far smarter than that.

* * *

Emily’s eyes glowed strangely as her lifeless body lifted free of the altar. Ivan watched with a dark smile, bearing witness to something no other living man had seen before. The soul of the one named Barney was a ghostly greenish color, with a face liken to an elongated skeleton’s. It wailed, as the glowing green fingers of Gideon weaved a magical pattern that bound and tormented the soul, giving it no choice but to obey his command, to bow to his unholy power.
Camellia’s mantra further bound the soul’s will and crushed it, built it again in a mold of her suiting… a perfect match for the soul of Emily still trapped but inactive within her body. Together, the weaved a truly horrifying spell of necromancy… and within Emily’s body did filter in the broken and reshaped soul, combining with that which was there.
From Emily’s eyes, mouth, nostrils, and ears came a eerie green light. The putrid stench of decay filled the air. That which was dead was being expunged, life was being restored, and for the first time in history… the art of Necromancy… death magic… restored a life.
…But, all was not well. Emily’s body came softly to rest upon the table, but blood begun to rise from her mouth. Gideon’s brow rose curiously, there had been no failures on their side… they had cast their magics flawlessly. “…The soul was too weak, that must be it.” Ivan said with a grim frown, “We need another…”
Gideon gave his eldest son a grim stare. “Thou knoweth thy request impossible to heed, mine son. For lo there beith no souls we may taketh of.” He replied with a shake of his head, “Thou wouldest give thine life? That beith the price if thou doth truly wish her restored.”
“Of course I would give my life.” Ivan declared proudly, frowning solemnly, “But if I die, we still shall be unable to birth a child. Why then would… it would be pointless, would it not?”
Camellia turned a steady gaze down to Emily. Thankfully she wasn’t conscious and was free of the pain her body surely was going through. “Taketh thyself from mine eyes and collect of thee thine seed, my son. Let it be that she taketh of thy seed and inseminate herself, that ye shalt giveth unto her a child.” The Countess offered, “We shalt give unto thee the blessing that doth make us be. Thou shalt be as thine parents.”
Ivan left them quickly, in the wake of a strange chuckle from his father. Camellia turned to Gideon with something of a confused but equally amused smirk. “What findeth ye humorous?” She inquired as her smirked turned into a coy grin. “Behold, our child shalt giveth his life to restoreth that of his love.” Gideon explained, “He shalt die ironically, shall he not?”
They shared a laugh… in reference to the coming death of their eldest child. It was nothing to them. Why, how? This surely would seem horrifyingly evil to the outsider… but, they were both of the undead. In their strange world… death was a blessing, death was a paradise. They wept for the birth of a child, rejoiced at the death of a man…

For the living surely did suffer, the dead however knew peace.

Ivan returned, having done what was required of him. “Let us begin.” He said quietly, standing between his parents. Slowly did Gideon pull down his son’s hood, revealing the fact Ivan looked exactly like his beautiful mother in facial structure… sparing the fact his skull was liken to his fathers, being somewhat long. His somewhat lengthy hair was the same color as his short but thick beard… black.
They anointed him in a black liquid of oil. The liquid was enchanted, the unholy power contained within it would preserve his body… of which all was soaked. “Lay thee down upon the altar.” Gideon said with a proud smile, “And prepareth thyself, Ivan. Thou shalt not wake among the living.”
Ivan nodded with a bow, sitting upon the altar and lying flat upon it. For the last time, he closed his eyes as a living man. Upon him were cast the same spells of necromancy and black magic. No resistance was offered, with the last of his mortal energies and power he assisted the process.
…But the point was not to literally take his soul away. It was to give his life force, all that was required, unto Emily. His soul would remain in tact… and all for the sake a single syllable was left out of the mantra.

One, syllable… the difference between death to un-life and simple death.

[Avarice]

Forthwith from Ivan’s body did travel a stream of green… a stream of life. Into Emily’s chest did it travel, filling out the entirety of her body. Blueish pale skin became a supple peachy pink in color as the blood faded seemingly into nothingness. Therein, as Emily’s chest rose for the first time in nearly thirty years, so did Ivan’s cease to move. No time was wasted. Together, Gideon and Camellia begun waving their arms and hands about in patterns. They spoke in a truly ancient tongue, drawing out the true powers of necromancy… with that special edge of black magic that made their specifically unique brand of un-death.
Ivan’s body lifted from the altar, stiff as if rigor mortis had already taken effect. This was normal, this was perfect. His soul, having yet to leave his body, was magically bound to his corpse. In turn the black magic sealed off the natural processes of life… a cruel trick of the dark arts that often made foolish black wizards think themselves immortal, only to die of old age. Indeed, the black magic was what prevented the body from rotting, while the necromancy restored to Ivan his soul.

With Emily did Ivan rise, undead, reborn.

The Count and Countess had long ago forgotten just what exhaustion felt like, but after this long night of spell weaving they sure felt the strain. “…Speaketh unto me, Emily. How doest thou feel?” Camellia inquired, her hand coming to cup Emily’s slender chin softly, “I doth feel thine warmth, life doth flow through thee.”
Slowly did Emily take in the air about her, for the first time since her untimely death of tuberculosis so many years hence. “…I… feel so… strange.” She replied, shaking suddenly as the horrid chill of Castle wolf blew through her dress. “You are cold, we hath not prepared our abode for the living.” Gideon explained, “Taketh thyself unto thy quarters. Therein thou shalt find mine sons seed. Waste ye no time, thing disease beith present still in thine lungs.”
Emily felt of her chest, the heaviness contained within. “Alas…” She breathed with a slight cough. “Thine infant shalt not inherit thine illness, but thou wouldest be wise in distancing thyself from thine infant until thou hath died again. And fear thee not, Emily… for we shalt give unto you what we hath given unto Ivan.”

Turning, Emily’s flush face went pale. “What!?”

Instantly did Emily recognize the un-life that had taken Ivan. He was no different in appearance, there was no sign at all that he was in any way… ‘dead’. “…The soul was not enough.” Ivan replied, “You came to life dying all over again. I gave my life that you would be restored. I gave my life, that you may have a child. That we may live our dream.”
“But… Ivan!” Emily gasped in confused alarm, “If you are dead, your seed can bear no life! What have you done, Ivan!?”
Ivan shook his head. “Calm yourself, my love.” Ivan said quietly, his cold hands coming to rest on either of her arms, “I have taken of myself my seed that you may be inseminated. I lament we may not engage in intercourse to make our child, but we shall have our child.”
A snap of the finger couldn’t have been any faster than Emily’s return to calm. In death she had learned logic, she had learned reason. She understood immediately… that nothing else truly mattered. “I shall go then.” She said in rising to her feet, shivering to feel the cold floor on her toes, “Come with me. I will need your assistance…” “…Thank you… all of you…”
The Count and Countess bowed slightly in their weariness and vanished. So forth did Ivan and Emily vanish as well, but sleeping wasn’t exactly what they had in mind. Of course, intimacy so soon would have been rather awkward for both, but that wasn’t the idea behind the sexual nature of their plans.
Above them, far above them in the high tower, Count Gideon slowly removed his outer clothing and gave his slender figure a look in the mirror. “…Lo, we hath not aged.” He said quietly, “We hath not faltered. Beith this proof of mastery, or beith this a curse, mine love?”
“It beith proof of mastery, it beith a blessing.” Camellia replied with a disapproving frown. “Perish the thought ye entertain, that I beith in doubt of mine un-life and mine life’s decisions.” Gideon said before she could add anything, “I giveth thought only to mine youngest.”
Countess Camellia’s gaze lowered. Their youngest, the last of their family, was still mortal… and only as they had once been, human. His life would be over in the blink of their immortal eye, when Centuries were to them as years were to the living humanity walking the face of the earth. Of course, they could always bless him with the immortality un-life provided… but, they knew in their hearts he would reject the offer.

For Greywolf was not like them.

…Indeed, the mercenary’s parents were these undead masters of unholy magic. They, in their arrogance, had lost him in his early life. A ritual, summoning the then king of demons Amatsu-Mikaboshi, had led to a portal… that portal Greywolf had fallen into. He had lived his life believing himself an orphan, and they in turn had spent it in search for their beloved ‘baby’.
“I wouldest love to speak with mine son again.” Camellia admitted quietly as she turned to the window, basking in the glorious light of the freezing moon. “We shalt call unto him, that he shalt come unto us.” Gideon offered, “Beith thee opposed? I… loathe to leave mine abode.”
Camellia turned to him. “Thou shalt miss the birth of thine grandchild.” She said rather accusingly, the harshness of her gaze taking Gideon quite off guard. “Fear thee not, mine love. I shalt venture outwards therein… for they shalt not haveth the child here. Let us contact him.”
The countess nodded as she turned a thoughtful gaze back to the moon. They would try to contact Greywolf… or as they knew him, Michael. That was the name they had given him, and the name his bride referred to him as. The only other person allowed to call Greywolf by that name was Lavoisier… mainly because, Greywolf had found and raised Lavoisier himself, and was like a father to the boy.
Among Camellia’s thoughts were naturally included her precious son’s family and friends. She longed not only to see her son again, but his bride as well. Vicka (as was her full name, that disallowed were all but a select few to use) was such a wonderful girl, in her mind, a dark dragoness though only of 1/4th blood. Lavoisier was a sweet child, and his bride Sira was enjoyable. But as she soon learned… contacting Greywolf was impossible.

Vic was in labor!

(End of Chapter 1) Reposting has begun, Brace yourselves o.o

Next - Chapter 2: Danielle Wolf

[Avarice]

Chapter 2: Danielle Wolf


Vic’s hair was raven black. Her skin was usually rather light in complexion, but at the moment she had a nine pound baby slowly but surely making its way out of her, so it was now a fine shade of solid red. Her length legs were almost too long to fit correctly in the stirrups, so they had to strap them down… that and even without the thigh-high boots she always wore on, she kicked hard.
“Fuck!” Vic screamed in pain, snarling and gnashing her teeth like some sort of wild animal. She was in far too much agony to be worried about it, but was embarrassed to cry in front of Sira and… of all people… Lavoisier.

Who was unconscious.

“Oh, Lavoi…” Sira groaned quietly, kneeing him gently in efforts to wake the stressed-out ball of nerves. He apparently couldn’t handle it… but then who really could, she was having a hard time herself! Greywolf held Vic’s hand tightly and bent over her. In turn she clung to him and scratched… he could only thank God he was wearing his coat, she would’ve torn him apart. It felt like he was holding onto a pissed-off badger of some sort, maybe even a wolverine. Vic had always been… vicious… to say the least.
Of course when the full onset of hard labor hit she lost that demeanor entirely, as a whole new level of pain. Clawing no more, Vic latched onto Greywolf down dear life as overwhelming and unbearable shots of agony rippled through the entirety of her body. In her life she had come far closer to death than anyone should.. but the pain then was… insignificant compared to this. “Oh…. Michael!” She groaned through the pain, “Don’t leave me! Stay!!”
“I’m just straightening my back…” Greywolf assured her, bending down quickly after he’d stretched. He almost chuckled, but her desperation was as beautiful to him as it was amusing… moreso, even. Here was a woman as cold and dark as he was, yet loved with all of her heart and soul without abandon. She had always been an inspiration to him… though he’d never admitted to anyone… not even himself, to be honest.
Now in this beautiful agony, Vic stared up into the eyes of this man whom so loved her, whom she so loved. This man that had loved her, left her, returned to her. The man who had saved her, killed her, and brought her back to life all over again. “I love you…” She said as calmly as she could between a pair of particularly harsh contractions, “I love you Michael…”
“I love you too…” Greywolf replied, heedless of the tears falling down his cheeks as his grey eyes grew silvery in the light. “Ah!!” Vic screamed suddenly, the unbelievable pulse of the next contraction feeling as if it would tear her apart.
The doctors urged her to push… and she obliged. But, unlike Saphira or Sherri who had described long hours of repetition… Vic’s body was more than ready for that baby to be born. “Oh!” The doctor gasped, “Ready! The child is coming quickly, this shouldn’t take long at all!”
Greywolf’s expression shifted drastically. He and Vic both had been prepared for a long-haul situation… to say they were excited was an understatement! Greywolf wasn’t even prepared… this wasn’t how he had imagined it all working in his mind… he had no plan for this!

“It… it’s crowning!” The doctor blurted awkwardly, “P… Push! Push Vicka, push!”

Snarling in rage to hear herself being addressed in such a manner, the push she gave was all it really took. The infant emerged from her mother smoothly, without tearing and excess blood. Greywolf gasped aloud in witnessing that spectacle, hardly able to believe his eyes as the infant came to life in the doctor’s arms.
Vic, sweaty but wearing a determined look on her face, stared Greywolf down as he cut the umbilical cord and took up their baby. Her eyes were filled with tears, all other emotion forgotten. Greywolf wept as well, he shook… no, trembled as he slowly handed that beautiful baby… girl… to her mother.
The babe’s hair was black, like her mothers. She had long legs, like her mother, but was built broadly like her father… whom she looked exactly like. “She’s… she… like… she’s like an… angel…” Vic sobbed, stroking her baby’s face and shaking as she cradled the wailing child. “…Like her mother…” Greywolf said through a heavy sniff. “Shhh…. It’s ok… don’t cry…” Vic cooed softly, kissing her newborn’s forehead and stroking her cheeks. Greywolf smiled and aided Vic in guiding the newborn to her breast. Suckling this soon wasn’t uncommon when breast feeding. “…Danielle…” Greywolf said quietly, as the newborn wiggled about and cried, “I’m here… daddy… is here..”
Vic’s smile was exhausted but pure and filled with happiness… and love. “Michael…” She breathed, “You’re a daddy… I’m a mommy… look… look Michael… our baby!! Our baby!!”

Words would fail a poet to describe their feelings at that moment.

Sira was quiet until Vic finally seemed to remember the girl’s presence. “Can I see?” Sira asked quietly, glancing back as Lavoisier slowly begun to wake. “Yes…” Vic responded softly, her exhaustion obvious, “Hold… hold him. Careful, now…”
Nervously did Sira take the baby, cradling her and cooing in awe at the precious little thing. Behind her did Lavoisier finally get back to his feet, peeking over her shoulder like a frightened child. The baby’s eyes weren’t quite open yet… it couldn’t see him, but it cried either way. Poor Lavoisier apparently thought he’d done something wrong, for he fell all over himself cowering from Greywolf as he approached an equally panicked Sira.
Now, it wasn’t as if Greywolf had ever truly handled an infant before… he there had been missions wherein children this young were involved. Children this young were even directly stolen from their families. He knew far more than the casual ‘new dad’ usually knew. “Calm, it’s ok.” Greywolf said to them with a bit of a grin, “Babies cry.”
“Well…” Sira muttered, tapping her index fingers together as the doctor came in again to take the child. “Well?” Vic asked as they brought the little over again. “She is your and Greywolf’s daughter… really, really badass parents.” Sira giggled quietly, “I just… I’m so afraid of messing up somehow.”
The doctor smiled. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but we need the name of this child so we can begin her medical history.” She said, “Ryuichi, Yuri, and Leo are all on record and I would like to include this one as well. This will monitor the overall health of the infant through young adult population.”
Greywolf and Vic shared a glance, then Greywolf turned back. “It passed our minds… in the reality of this moment.” He replied almost… apologetically, “We have talked about this and agreed… her name shall be… Danielle.”
“Aw! What a cute name!” Sira cheered happily, clapping quietly… at least until she noticed the look her precious Lavoi was giving the man who’d reared him. “…What is it?” She asked then, glancing between the two nervously as if expecting some sort of violent confrontation.
Greywolf smiled softly and clapped Lavoisier’s shoulder. “We’ll talk about it later. You were here for the birth, so go out and let two of the others come in to see her while she is in observation.” He replied, “Nothing is wrong. I’ll say that ahead of time, Sira. Lavoi can tell you what that look is about.”

“…you have no idea how honored I…”
“Hurry, go.”

[Avarice]

Ryu and Saphira sat outside in the waiting area with Ananias and Sherri. Of course, with three babies there was little in the way of conversation… for the men at least, who couldn’t brag about their sons quite yet. “Ohhh he’s so cute!!!” Saphira cooed, tickling Leo’s little stomach and inducing the most heart-burning laugh of all time, “Oh you’re so precious!! Look at you!”
Sherri giggled and snuggled Yuri close. The little one was fascinated by her it seemed, perhaps because of her eyes… or her tail, which Yuri held tightly onto. That only left Ryuichi… whom was being shared between Ryu and Ananias. “He’s gonna have screwed up hair like his dad, what a shame.” Ananias chuckled in his desperation for some form… any form… of entertainment. “At least he won’t look gay like you.” Ryu replied with a shrug, “He’s going to grow up kicking ass and taking names, like me.”
Saphira glanced over… in time to gawk as Leo’s hands wrapped around her finger and pulled, hard enough to actually move her hand. “…Yep.” Sherri giggled with a smile, “I think he has my strength. Or maybe… that’s just the dragon coming out in him. Possibly both, I guess.”
Little Leo smiled brightly at Saphira and gnawed her finger greedily, suckling the tip after a moment and giving her hand a dirty look for not producing milk for him. “I think he wants mommy.” Saphira giggled, “I wouldn’t feel comfortable breast feeding your child, Sherri.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with it but, I get your point.” Sherri giggled, much to Ananias’ dismay. “Nah hell let him suckle!” Ananias chuckled from the side “Let him go where his daddy could never go before he nailed mommy and made him!”
The look Sherri gave him was lovingly dangerous. Actually, just plain dangerous more than anything else. “Shut up.” She warned him as she exchanged Yuri for her boy… who immediately wrapped his tail about her arm and began reaching for her breast. “He already knows.” Ananias, coming up somehow with great fake tears, said proudly. “He’s hungry, instinct drives.” Ryu sighed with a roll of his eyes, “By they way Saphira I think this one is hungry too.”
Saphira cooed and took them… Leo was cute, but in the end he could naturally not compare with these two… these oh-so beautiful twins. There were identical… beyond… adorable. Ryuichi hair was already taking on his father’s signature style. Yuri’s hair was the same and already growing extremely long and was beginning to curl… though, Saphira figured it would be less curly and more wavy the longer it grew as hers had. Both featured such large and shining eyes of crystal blue, sparkling with their heart-melting smiles as they cooed and wiggled about in their mother’s arms.
As for Leo, it was daddy all around, except for the fact he sported his mother’s signature woren markings… or at least, to a degree he did. Woren males generally looked more like anthropomorphic animals than the females, but that wasn’t the case with Leo. It was actually rather unnerving for Sherri how his markings were very much liken to her owns. His face featuring two stripes, his lower half being distinctly woren… and he sported large, feline ears.
Lavoisier and Sira made an entrance then, drawing everyone’s attention. “Danielle Wolf has been born!” Sira declared proudly, “They’re taking her to observation now, they want to see you guys. Lavoisier needs a break anyway, he was out for most of it… he couldn’t stand it.”
“Not what it’s cracked up to be huh? Imagine being the woman.” Sherri chuckled, drawing an immediately and very aware nod from Saphira as they rose. “Thanks… get some rest now.” Saphira said as she passed her sister, “Hopefully it won’t take you long now.”

Sira’s eyes could not have been any wider.

* * *

The depths of the void quaked as the power of the diabolical being forming within it’s core begun to rise. It had been aeons ‘ere a power such as this had been felt, and that power was felt far beyond the borders of the infernal, empty void.
In the depths of hell the would-be overseer of Hell gazed upwards through the caverns of the plain he would name his kingdom and quivered in fear. He had thought his power indomitable… not that he was any different from other demons of course. From the other side of the spectrum, Kaiser shuddered… slightly. He had expected this, but he hadn’t quite expected it to happen this fast.
“You must go to Ryu…” Sei said quietly from behind him as she stepped to the door of their balcony, her flowing nightgown swaying in the wind. “I know.” Kaiser assured her as he turned his solemn gaze back to her, “Fear not. I shall do so as soon as he wakes… we cannot risk him to think it was a dream. He may not yet understand the level of power we have… to walk the Earth again.”
Sei nodded as she came to him, as she sank gently into his arms and lay her head across his strong chest. “Alas that peace must be destroyed so soon. The children are but infants…” She lamented as Kaiser’s hands begun to caress her back. “Indeed it is a woeful tale…” Kaiser replied, gazing out to the celestial moon as compared to the depths of the void, “But hold faith. You and I know well their power to be more than enough to sustain their lives… and the lives of their children.”
“…But Kaiser, they should not have to use it.” Sei sighed solemnly. “Nay, but it is their fate. And as loathsome as it may be there is naught we can do for them. We must, in the end, leave it up to them what shall be done.” Kaiser returned softly, assuringly. “I would see my son soon, Kaiser.” Sei informed him, clinging to his shirt. “I know, and together with myself shall you descend to the Earth for a time, to interact with him again.”

Sei was satisfied with that.

…But in the void came another pulse of power. A shockwave, in size far beyond the human imagination, shot through the endless fog from its very core. One would have to take into consideration the void be thrice larger than any known mortal galaxy. Endless and beyond… the shockwave shook the entirety of that endless place. It was the first of many such ripples as the pulse of Xenian begun to resume… as he slowly begun to reform.
The unified souls of Ladon and Draconis were enough in and of themselves… but Anfini, the once formless essence, had grown in power. This third being… it gave just that much more power… unnecessary power as it were.
From a womb of said power did Xenian reform. Slowly at first, something like a grotesque larva, but ever expanding… growing my the moment as compared to the day, month, or year. His image was that of a dragon… a massive, massive dragon. Great wings of mighty muscle formed from his back, a tail of great length and many spikes sprouted out from his spine. His neck, thick and impossibly strong, ended in a head with a flared ridge of protection and horns almost liken to those of the long extinct triceratops.

…To a greatly exaggerated, barbed, and curving degree of course.

[Avarice]

The shell surrounding Xenian expanded, forming a gel-like shell about his form. He was curled into a ball, almost as if he were within an egg. But slowly, surely, he was beginning to stir. With every flinching muscle did his power surge outwards. The Void was shaken in its entirety, souls trapped within scattered about like dust in the wind.
Xenian’s eyes begun then to open. From beneath their tannish-brown scaled lids glowed a brilliant yellow-gold light. “…Ryu…” He whispered into the void, “I am coming for you…” “...You shall know… the true power… of your race.” “…When complete… you shall see… what the race of dragons was meant… to be…”
…What it was meant to be. Pure, complete. A perfect representation of the one and only true dragon God. Already, though Xenian had yet to complete his near-literal rebirth, they were being morphed and formed under the influence of his almighty powers and unshakeable will.
Purebloods, he would call them. They, perfect mortal representations of himself, would rise with him upon his return to life. His return would be their beginning… to Earth, he would send them. The first of this new race spawned before Xenian, a naked man with dragon’s wings of tan and brown to match his creator. “Astaroth…” Xenian called into the being’s mind, “You are the first… you are the master. Awaken, gaze upon your fatherly God.”
The long brown hair of the man swayed to the side as he opened those glowing golden eyes that burned so deeply with a dull shade of malice. Two specific strands of hair stuck out in front, down his face and in front of his eyes. “Yes, Father.” Astaroth asked, unblinking as he gazed upon his creator. “Upon my rebirth shall you too be born. Prepare yourself…” Xenian said to him, “For you and your brethren shall purify our Kingdom…”
“…Where is our Kingdom, Lord?” Astaroth asked, his voice firm and strong. “It is not this place… you will see it soon.” Xenian answered, “Focus yourself upon my words. For you shall be created five servants. For you and said servants shall be born an army.” “I have created you… you are a Pureblood, you are a dragon… a true, indomitable dragon. A living God of nature itself… the pinnacle of life itself. You are whole, you hold within you all of the potential I can give you.”
Astaroth gazed down upon himself. Everything was alien to him, he was liken to a newborn child… almost. “…You will soon learn all you will need to know.” Xenian assured him, “For now… know that you are special, Astaroth. You were created to lead, not to follow. I, and I alone… am your sole superior in your existence.” “I choose you, Astaroth… to be my living will upon the planet Earth in the mortal realm. To you I shall grant many blessings. I shall grant you eternal life, sparing only the blade of your enemies. I shall grant you subordinates of great power, that you need not manage my will and army alone. I shall grant you the power of transformation… and shall grant also unto your subordinates the same, that you may assume a form capable of handling the full potential of the power I have given you. I shall grant you knowledge of your enemy, that you shall not find yourself at a disadvantage… ever.”
Astaroth’s expression remained humbly plain as he bowed his head to Xenian’s authority and obvious rule. “Thank you, Almighty Xenian.” He said in great reverence of the God before him. “Thank me not, until you have found yourself a survivor of the coming war, Astaroth.” Xenian replied solemnly, “I bless you also with reality… that you understand always… your power alone is not enough to implement my will upon the Earth, that truly you shall only disappointment in carelessness.”

Astaroth’s eyes glowed darkly. “Yes, my Lord.”

…Kaiser’s eyes shut slowly. “…Damn these days.” He said quietly as Sei shrank backwards against the railing of their balcony and lay her slender hands above her rapidly beating heart. “Kaiser… what does this mean?” She inquired with a shake of her head, “I don’t… it sounds as if he…”
“He is even wiser than Anfini…” Kaiser returned, a quiet edge to his voice that was in no way comforting, “…Anfini never saw past the obvious result of his caution and progressive plotting. When it crashed down around him he failed miserably in the task he had set for himself…” “…Xenian… remembers. Draconis, Ladon, and Anfini all fell to Ryu’s blade… he knows him, and he understands that fate often deals the cards of life and death in Ryu’s favor.”
Sei’s head continued to shake. “…What shall he do, Kaiser?” She asked nervously, though in truth she really didn’t want to know the answer. Kaiser then joined her in head shaking. “I know not, yet. But I know this development implies he may not… he may not be returning to Earth immediately.” Kaiser replied, “…It is settled. Come morning upon the Earth I shall go to Ryu. He must learn of these happenings before it is too late, he must prepare. The entirety of the unified Earth must band together… their survival depends upon it. Purification can only mean one thing…”

“…Xenian plans on wiping them out. Every race, every living thing…”

* * *

It was in the dead of night that they arrived, bypassing every man of security present in that closed facility. Greywolf and Vic slept soundly, with their precious newborn daughter swaddled tightly and warm in a crib they could reach easily and quickly. “Alas, we hath missed the birth…” Camellia said quietly, a greatly disappointed frown painting her delicate face. “Yea, but it beith of no consequence, behold thine grand…daughter, my love.” Gideon replied, drawing out the awareness of the man sleeping so lightly next to Vic.
The next thing Gideon knew, he and Camellia alike had weapons in their face… a matching pair to be exact, mechanical devices. They were two of Greywolf’s personal arsenal of six… these two being machine guns capable of firing their armor-penetrating rounds at dozens per minute. Also on Greywolf’s person were two firearms known as sawn-off shotguns… those were utilized for power, but he wasn’t worried about that at the moment.
“…You should’ve knocked.” Greywolf said calmly, revealing the fact he had apparently been quite awake for their arrival, “If I had truly been asleep… neither of you would have a head on your shoulders.”
Count Gideon smiled as Vic opened her eyes, stifling her own shout of shock as she leapt up and nearly out of her skin. “Forgive mine intrusion, Michael. We hath arrived late, and we doth regret this.” Camellia replied with a warm and fearless smile, one totally out-of-place considering he still held a lethal weapon to her forehead, “Wouldest thou taketh thy weapons away now?”
“…Yeah.” Greywolf replied calmly, putting them aside and glancing to the side, where Danielle slept soundly in her wrap. “What beith her name?” Gideon inquired, stepping over and peering down upon the child with a warm smile. “…Where…” Vic muttered in confusion, unsure if she were dreaming. “Greetings to thee mine daughter in law.” Camellia said quietly, “We hath come to see thine daughter… pardon, we hath arrived late… forgive us.”
Greywolf stood them and popped his neck. “Danielle is her name, father.” He said, sighing heavily as he made his way around to join the man at the side of his precious daughter’s crib. “Ah, thine choice beith beautiful!” Camellia cooed happily, “I loveth thine choice. How didest thou come about it?
The smile that crossed Greywolf’s face was slightly… sad. “Danielle was the name of Lavoisier’s mother.” Greywolf explained quietly, “She died at the hands of Guardian Gaist. I… felt it appropriate to give her the name.”
“Thou shouldest know we art proud of thee.” Gideon mentioned as he gently brushed the infant’s hair from her forehead, “Thou hath greatly exceeded thy expectations… and thou hath overcome thyself as well.”
To be honest, Greywolf wasn’t sure whether that meant anything to him or not. For all of his life, until only too recently… he’d thought himself an orphan. Or perhaps abandoned. Having lived such a lonely and cruel life fending for himself… by himself… it was obviously difficult for him to accept these people.. who to him were still barely more than strangers… as ‘family.’ The only ‘family’ he had ever known had been Vicka… and of course, the old man he’d worked under for so many years during his youth and adulthood, McKay.
“…Ow…” Vic groaned in soreness, rolling and smiling softly upon her daughter as those beautiful… silver… eyes opened. “Ah, thine child hath awoken.” Gideon cooed softly, stroking the baby’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “She haveth thine eyes, Greywolf…” Camellia said, clutching her hands and swaying in happiness. “Yes.” Greywolf replied as he gently lifted the infant and cradled her, “She’s probably hungry.”
Oh that she was definitely going to do, but Greywolf didn’t flinch. His discipline was almost unnatural, but such was necessary for those in his all-too dangerous profession of killing (among other things). Vic smiled as he handed her the child… Camellia surprised them both in the fact she never asked to hold and comfort the child. It was apparent that undeath had not changed her maternal instincts… she knew, as Vic did, the child was hungry.

[Avarice]

“...Beith there anything of need unto thee?” Gideon inquired suddenly as he turned away to grant Vic privacy to breast feed her child. “Nothing I can’t go get myself, thanks.” Greywolf replied with a rather gruff edge to his voice, that was obviously unintentional. “We wouldest leave if thou ask it of us…” Camellia assured him with a terribly sad frown crossing her face. “No.” Greywolf sighed with a shake of his head, “I am thirsty but, I hate being waited on. If you want to get Vic something to drink come with me and we’ll get something.”
Gideon nodded, saying nothing as he and his youngest son left the room. “He didn’t mean to be hateful.” Vic assured Camellia with a sleepy smile, “You scared the shit out of me though. If I weren’t sore I’d get up and kick you.”
“Thou wouldest do no such thing.” Camellia giggled quietly, coming to sit beside the bed. “When did you arrive?” Vic asked, stroking her baby’s head. “…Nigh on twenty minutes ago. I beith terribly sad we hath missed thine labor… I didest surely wish to witness it.” Camellia replied with a shake of her head, “Didest thou scream?”
Vic grinned. “For a second there… but I got lucky, according to one of my nurses. It happened fast, for me… about eight hours worth, only half an hour of hard labor.” She replied, “It took Saphira and Sherri both over fourteen hours to give birth to their babies…”
“…Ah, thine friends. Beith they present?” Camellia inquired with a smile. “Yes, but they aren’t here anymore that I know of. I think they went home… the palace. Are you aware of where you are?” Vic asked, stroking Danielle’s head and patting her back to burp the child. “Nay…” Camellia replied, “We didest search for thee vigorously… we paid no care for where thou were located.”
Vic nodded and turned to her baby, dropping everything to comfort the crying child… amazingly calm, considering she was a brand new mother. “Thou art calm, thou knoweth thy instinct shalt guide thee.” Camellia observed as Vic began to soothe the unhappy child with her voice, “Thou shalt maketh a great mother, Vicka.”
“…Thanks…” Vic said with a blush as Danielle finally began to calm down, “I think I’m doing everything right. I mean… as long as she isn’t crying she doesn’t need anything, I know that.”
Camellia nodded. “But thou must beith aware that there beith times they shalt wail without reason, and there beith nothing thou may do to soothe them. Prepareth thyself for this, it beith hell upon the mind.” She chuckled, “Beith ye aware, Michael didest suffer from colic as a babe. It beith unexplained pain in which no cure beith known… it shalt pass, but they shalt cry ceaselessly.”
Vic frowned slightly as she gazed down at her precious baby. “I hope… that she doesn’t have it as well. I… I’d cry with her, I know it.” She said with a concerned gleam in her dark blue eyes. “Yea, thou shalt…” Camellia assured her, “But knoweth thine emotions beith known. Thine daughter shalt respond accordingly unto thee, and Michael as well.”
Gideon was having a similar discussion with Greywolf down the hall in the waiting area, where drinks were served ‘round the clock. To Greywolf’s great surprise did they find Lavoisier and Sira to be sleeping in the corner chairs… apparently unwilling to leave this soon. “Ah, I would speaketh with Lavoisier.” Gideon chuckled, “Waketh him wouldest thou? I shalt not disturb him less I suffer thine adopted one’s wrath.”
Greywolf rolled his eyes with a smile. As if Lavoisier were in any way dangerous, in that sense. The boy slept like a rock, always… it was extremely hard to wake up. So, roughly, Greywolf did the only thing he knew to do to get him up. Of course, it wasn’t necessary to kick Sira like Greywolf kicked Lavoisier, but he did anyway… thankfully in a gentle and playful fashion.
Lavoisier grunted and rolled out into the floor. Sira leapt and nearly screamed before Greywolf caught her by the mouth. “Shh.” He laughed quietly as her hands wrapped about his wrist, “It’s just me,”
Count Gideon smiled slightly and bowed slightly as Sira calmed down and as Lavoisier slowly came to sit. “Where… what time is it?” Lavoisier yawned, scratching his head and never noticing the dull pain in his side from Greywolf’s hard boot. “Hospital waiting room, three in the morning.” Greywolf said with a quick glance to the clock, “Why are you here?”
“We couldn’t just leave…” Sira giggled with a stretch, “We wanted to be there in the morning for the baby’s first day of life!”
Gideon smiled. “Thou doth love mine granddaughter, this maketh mine heart feeleth warm indeed.” He said as he approached, “But, when shalt ye and Lavoisier bear forth a child of thine own?”
“…Uh…” Sira giggled quietly, not quite registering who he was at first. “Yes, this is my father.” Greywolf explained, “Wake up. They are here… somehow. I haven’t bothered to ask yet just how in the fuck they found us, but yeah.”
Gideon smirked. “Thine shadow beith the culprit of thine discovery.” Gideon explained with a glance downwards, “Truly we hath no clue to our location. I doth assume we beith in the North…”
“Yes.” Greywolf answered immediately, “Dragonier to be exact. Speaking of which, you might want to try and endure a little sunlight while you’re here. You’re royalty, and this goddamn place has become a haven for your kind… damn politicians…”

Sira grinned. If Greywolf thought it was annoying, he should try on Ryu’s shoes.

…Because, not so far away in a palace growing daily about him, Ryu was already up and getting ready for a long day of political warfare. He loathed days like this, staring with sleepy eyes into the mirror wishing his weapon of the day would be a sword instead of a pen. Saphira slept soundly in the bed, lonely and cuddling his pillow… his scent had become enough to satisfy her subconscious mind while he was away. Still, he knew she’d be terribly sad to wake up without him.
This, this was why he loathed being King. The power meant nothing to him, all the riches in the world meant nothing to him as far as his own personal wants went. Now, the money was useful for the children, God knows they’d never ever have to ‘do without’ as he always had growing up.
Maybe that was why he endured the ridiculousness of it all. Kombinat was still unhappy over a series of trade routes then under the occupation of Raphala and the Eastern continent. Lord Beyd, a truly old friend Ryu’s, was trying to negotiate fairly… but the President of Kombinat was asking too much. Apparently, President Volkov didn’t understand the concept of ‘teamwork’.
Another conflict Ryu knew he would have to try and settle was the increasing unrest between Kings Rax and Dover. Rax and his Iron-Ogre clan occupied the Western province of Dauna. Dover and his Grassrunners occupied the Yraall province. As per usual, money was the source of their argument. Both were trying to tax the use of Yraall road… another hand in play here was of course King Ananias of Wyndia. The difficulty of the matter was trying to figure out just where a fair balance was in asking taxes and/or tolls in usage of the road. Rax wanted any and all who used it to pay, while Dover wanted taxes only for commercial use, but Ananias saw no point in taxing it at all.
Sighing as he dressed himself in formal attire, another in a long list of annoyances he found nearly unbearable, Ryu stopped long enough to kiss Saphira goodbye as well as the children before leaving. The road issue was just the tip of the iceberg with the secondary issues on his plate today.
Meeting Ryu all-too early that morning in the gathering hall in the far side of the palace was Ananias, also in formal attire and also wearing a tired look that revealed much about his sleepless night. “Baby?” Ryu asked as he grabbed his mug of coffee. “Yes.” Ananias sighed, “That and Rax is already throwing a fit over his seat today.”
Ryu sighed heavily in agitation. “I am not in the mood for this.” He declared, “I have half a mind to just denounce them and bring in new leadership. This is getting ridiculous, it’s becoming as much of a problem as Volkov…”
“…Money is the root of all evil.” Ananias replied between sips, “I foresee the ending being dissatisfying… but, if you don’t do what I’ve seen you’re going to do today, it’ll end on good terms at the very least. Just… keep your cool. It’ll be hard though, trust me.”
Ryu glanced over. “I’m glad we’re friends, and interact as friends. I’d hate you with a passion if I had to deal with you like them.” He chuckled with a shake of his head, “But then again you haven’t yet used your powers to win any arguments. At least… not in the most obvious way.”

Grinning, Ananias turned. “I’m not in the mood to play fair today, either. Don’t worry.”

* * *

[Avarice]

The gathered crowd downstairs was far too troublesome to deal with. They would all shame themselves in their empty affections for the infants, personal reputation campaigns in which even children were naught but tools. “Leo’s getting so big…” Saphira giggled as Sherri lay her infant son on his back and begun to tickle his belly. “Yes, he’s growing like a weed…” Sherri cooed, “He’s also beginning to teethe. I think that’s the Woren in him. Let me tell you, you don’t want to stick your finger in his mouth!”
“I bet that really, really hurts when he breast feeds.” Sira, paling slightly at the thought of something as unpleasant as that, commented from the side. “Oh yeah.” Sherri assured her with a bit of a quiver. “It hurts anyway, you get so raw and chafed…” Saphira added with a shrug, “I feel sorry for you, Sherri.”
Sherri grinned slightly. “Well I’ll survive. It’s worth it to hear that big ol’ burp he lets after he gets done.” She giggled, “He’s getting near the stage though where he can eat that jar food. I dunno how he’ll like it though…” “…All I know is, is that I don’t ever want my baby to grow up. I want him to stay little and cute forever, no matter how bad my ‘effin nipples hurt.”
All the while did Vic sit quietly in the corner, rocking her child and enjoying her freedom from the hospital. “Are you ok?” Sira asked as she turned her gaze over, “I can’t get over how quiet you are.”
“I’m fine.” Vic replied with a soft smile as she rocked her daughter, “I just have a really bad feeling about something. I don’t… I mean it’s not what you’re all probably thinking… It’s not about Danielle.”

Saphira lowered her gaze. “I sense it too, it has to be…”

“Don’t say it…” Sherri whined suddenly, shaking her head in denial of the bitter truth they all knew. “Denying it isn’t going to make it go away Sherri.” Vic stated with a slightly cold edge to her voice, “I’m sorry but… you know what’s going to happen. It’s inevitable…”
Saphira lowered her gaze. “I… I hope that, if it must… it will at least stay away until the children are old enough to hide with my parents.” She said quietly, “Or somewhere far away from the battlefield. I don’t… want to imagine them being this young, enduring that kind of… hell…”
Sira lowered her gaze. “None of you will be able to fight…” She noted grimly, “I will, but I’m not pregnant yet either. If… I do get pregnant, then I know Lavoisier will make me stay behind too. He’s so protective of me, I can only imagine how fierce his instinct will grow when he knows there are two of us…”
“He’ll ‘make’ you?” Sherri asked skeptically. “Not literally.” Sira assured her with a slight grin, “Lavoisier would never even ‘tell’ me to do anything. He always asks. It’s just that, if I tried to say No… he’d probably well up and cry. I can’t have that, I’d do as he wished.”
Vic glanced up. “We’d be in the way regardless.” She said with a shrug, “We’d be too worried about our babies, especially now that the reality of their lives are on our shoulders.” “It was different when you two were in the early stages of your pregnancy… it was almost unreal then. Now it is real, and there is no getting around it.”
Downstairs, another situation was becoming far too real. That situation being the intense arguments between Ryu, Volkov, Rax, Dover, and Beyd. Ananias sat back calmly as they argued… rather intensely. Voices were raised, and guards begun handling their weapons on all sides as the always-aggressive Rax rose threateningly towards Dover.
“Enough!” Ryu snarled, slamming the table with his gavel hard enough to crack the head, “I will not tolerate this ignorance any longer. You will come to an agreement or so help me God I will denounce you both!”
That should have been the water that put out the fire, but Volkov had a ‘wonderful’ way of turning water into… kerosene. “So it begins, the tyrant dragon king annexing the kingdoms not a month after declaring the world a free democracy.” The arrogant and obnoxious man huffed with a toss of his hands, “What be next? Slavery?”
Ryu turned on him with a look that would have felled a lion. “Keep your Goddamn mouth shut before I cut your fucking tongue out.” He warned Volkov in all seriousness, which brought a great silence to the room and a shocked expression to Volkov’s face. “I have already told you people what is soon to happen, the danger we are all soon to face… and I had hoped you fools would be intelligent enough to realize these bullshit squabbles for pathetic riches are nothing in comparison to the survival of our Kingdoms and their people.” “There will be unity among us. There will be fairness to all parties involved here. But there will not be warfare, and our people will not learn of hatred.”
Volkov’s lips curled snidely. “So says a threatening dragon, who abuses his power to intimidate and deceive.” He said rather boldly, “We of Kombinat shall not be cowed, Ryu. We of Kombinat do not fear you or your people. We in fact are the only reason you even have a Kingdom to begin with.”
Ananias watched closely. This was the part where Ryu would behead him. Literally, or figuratively… that was Ryu’s decision to make. He’d warned Ryu about this earlier… he just hoped Ryu would make the right choice. Glancing to Rax and Dover, he could tell Ryu’s statements had gotten through to them, but he knew without utilizing his power that Volkov was probably beyond negotiation.
“…And where it not for myself, Kombinat would be destroyed right along with the rest of this Earth.” Ryu returned evenly, “Draconis, Ladon… you choose. Which one to destroy and/or enslave you first, Volkov?” “You are a socialist pig who values money and power about life itself, like any other tyrant dictator that has ever known true political power. You disgrace me in my own home, you disgrace the republic with your ceaseless, petty cries for attention and grandeur.” “Your people suffer, Volkov, for in your stubborn arrogance and your greed you cut off the one source of reliable sustenance they truly had… and all for the sake of zenny.” “The shame you must… you should feel, must be what fuels your anger. It must be why you fester and writhe about like an infected boil on the ass of a lame mule. Be aware that, your people have the right to revolt… and that, it is not long in coming. Soon you will indeed be sitting upon a throne of gold… amongst ruins, as your people bring your palace down around your very ears.”

Silence. Total, utter silence.

Volkov simply gawked, rendered speechless with a side of dumb. “In the end, the sea lanes we occupy tax your ships because you in turn have taxed us.” Beyd said quietly as Ryu slowly lowered back into his seat, “Why you won’t understand this is beyond me. It is only fair. I would love to share these lanes with you, Volkov… the benefits for both of our Kingdoms would be immeasurable…”
“…As… whatever you wish.” Volkov muttered, flapping his hands dismissively, “I don’t even care anymore.”
Ryu shrugged and smacked the table with his gavel. “It is settled, Lord Beyd shall organize sea trade himself.” He said with a frown, “Volkov, your people are to follow the rules and regulations henceforth that Lord Beyd shall post and provide you and all others who would use the sea for trade.”

Volkov snorted, and nodded.

[Avarice]

“…Now can we please be civil as we resume our discussions regarding Yraall road?” Ananias asked, sitting forward in flamboyant fashion as he always did when in situations such as this. “Yes, we can.” Rax said calmly, which was rare for him. “I would love nothing more.” Dover added with a nod, “Who shall begin?”
Ryu lifted a hand. “Ananias has had no word in this conversation thus far, he has remained quiet. By rule it is his time to speak his mind. I ask you both to listen well and to try to see things from his perspective. At least, attempt to do so.” He said, “Our failures here have been for lack of understanding and acceptance. We must overcome this now, before it becomes a malignant force that shall drive us all apart.”
Rax and Dover nodded, turning to Ananias. Thankfully, they weren’t nearly as hard to deal with as Volkov. “…I understand that neither of you have a steady economy… and I understand that taxing passage along Yraall road would be a lucrative move.” Ananias began, patting the table with the sides of his forearms, “But what you have to understand is that roads should not be taxed, roads should be a right. Our peoples should not have to endure the treacherous ways of the wild to travel from one place to another, they should not have to trade food and home for safety.” “This is why I so strongly disagree with you, Rax, and why I generally disagree with you, Dover. Not all merchants have the kind of gold Wyndian merchants have, not all people have the kind of money certain Wyndians have. Your people, both of your peoples, would suffer in the end.”
“…Can we not simply assemble system for each individual province?” Dover inquired softly, hoping not to come off snidely. “That would drive away users of the road.” Rax argued with a shrug, “I thought the same once, but then I realized…”

“You’d be shooting yourself in the foot.” Ananias finished simply.

Rax nodded and sat back. “We are struggling to keep afloat.” He declared, “We have to do something. The taxation of Yraall road need not be permanent, just present long enough for our economy to grow… and Dover and his peoples’ economy to grow as well I know times shall be difficult, but… it is the only way. Times shall be lean in any event, and the only alternative is annexation by Wyndia.”
Ananias sat back. That was a fear he shared as well. Truly the situation was getting ugly. “Then perhaps Dover has had the answer all along.” Ryu offered, “Then we must build a system to suit the needs of all.” “We haven’t had time to discuss this issue in detail yet, let us do so now.”

Eight hours later, it was settled.

Rax wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t exceptionally angry about it either. Dover wasn’t entirely satisfied either. “I guess we’re all unhappy about this one, but at least that’s fair….” Ananias sighed as he examined the final notes of Ryu’s proposed bill, “I guess I’ll vote Yes on this one.”
“Aye.” Rax and Dover said almost in unison, signing the bill. “Alright, so I hope you all will find peace now with this.” Ryu said quietly, his exhaustion obvious as he rose, “This council is adjourned. Have a good day, all of you.”
By the time Ryu finally walked through the door, his precious twins were asleep, and their mother wasn’t all that far off from sleep herself. Quietly, he made his way into the bedroom and sighed, stripping his clothes down his briefs before pausing to look at himself in the mirror. He looked haggard, far more haggard than he ever had before. That was saying something significant considering all he’d been through in his long and arguous life. “…Ryu?” Saphira muttered, opening an eye when she realized someone was there. “Hey…” Ryu replied softly, coming over and kissing her forehead. “You got home on time today.” She noted with a joyous smile. “We got things settled, I think we’re finally going to have some peace around here.” Ryu explained, “I have to do one more thing today, as per usual.”
Saphira nodded. It was tradition that Ryu attend the daily prayer to Kaiser held in the temple. Their prayers were for guidance, blessings, and protection. It was more to boost morale than anything else when the dramatics were stripped away, but for Ryu this was actually something he enjoyed doing.

…What he didn’t know, however, was this day’s prayer was going to be… different.

(End of Chapter 2)

Next - Chapter 3: Of Fire and the Void

[Avarice]

Chapter 3: Of Fire and the Void


The entirety of the void circled about him. Convulsions shook the plain of existence, freeing long-trapped souls and finally ending the purgatory or more than a few who wanted nothing more than to find peace… be it in heaven or hell. Slowly, but surely, his shell was breaking. One wing, the other, the horns atop his head, then the horn at the end of his snout all broke through. Through the shell did come Xenian’s head, and with a mighty roar heard throughout the void, Xenian did draw breath.
Xenian’s massive claws tore through the rest, his tail uncurled, whipping the remnant of his shell away. With a flex of power did he stretch his body, venting the stored energy within him. In the wake of such release came a cataclysmic shift, a shift felt not only in the void, but all known plains of existence. Heaven felt it, Hell felt it. The celestial boundaries of the void were nearly destroyed.

All Gods and Goddess of good, evil, and neutral shook.

Slowly but surely did the still form of Astaroth rise before him, along with six others who were to follow. Their names, and rank, were as follows: Malthius, Vanthia, Daragor, Lyris, and Tharizdun. Each wore human forms, each sported wings of tannish, golden brown color.
Malthius was the largest built of them all, the entirety of his body featured corded muscles of unnatural power. His face was rather flat and broad, with a slightly oversized mouth and huge moss-green eyes. His less-than appealing face also sported a thick beard leading to… a bald head. Upon his back, a great axe.
Vanthia was one of the two females present. Her hair was long, nearly down to her bottom. A shining blond in color, providing stark flare against her radiant lavender irises. She was beautiful, her body the epitome of feminine perfect, but beneath that beautiful exterior was quite obviously a being not to be trifled with or underestimated. On either hip, she sported twin swords of gold and mirror-polished steel
Behind Vanthia was Daragor. He was perhaps the smallest of them all, standing only five and a half feet tall. His face was cherubic, boyish. But, disturbingly, his eyes were totally black. His lithe figure was also off-putting, but his lack of figure was compensated with a masking, billowing robe. Nothing did he carry in the way of weaponry.
Beyond Daragor was Lyris. Her features were pleasant but sharp, as if her stunning amber eyes and ears were made in representation of her vicious personality. She was less than Vanthia in figure and in hair, hair which she kept tied in a high ponytail sparing but a series of three bangs along her brow… two on the right, one on the left. Upon her hip, a majestic flail of shining steel with a blue wrap about its handle.
Finally then came Tharizdun. He was plain, inglorious and without much appeal one way or another. His face was somewhat slender but his features were nothing uncommon for the casual human. His hair as well followed suit, a short head of plain brown hair to match his eyes. In his right hand, he held a silver halberd.
“…My children…” Xenian said to them as his glowing eyes narrowed, “The time for purification is at hand. It has taken me far too long to occupy that which was rightfully my own.” “…You, you are my children, you are my representatives. I have granted you all the honor of achieving in my stead the paradise so far beyond us, and in return you and those who shall follow you shall be the sole inhabitants left behind in the wake of my coming.” “Behold, you are the pinnacles of life, and behold I have created for you all an army to be divided amongst yourselves.” “Only you, the purebloods, the one and true race of dragons… are worthy of walking the Earth. But not even you may so easily claim it.”

The six remained silent.

“Upon this paradise is the son of another God, a God who inherited a race born from but a portion of my power. Behold that his son has defeated me, thrice over, piece by piece.” Xenian went on, “Though it is true that I be whole again, the damage done to me was great. My power… it be less that it was before. Not only in my foolishness did I break apart my own being and therein lessen my power, but in the rash actions of my fragmented self did I sacrifice significant portions of the power I once held.” “…And while I be still the one God above all others, I shall not give he who fate does smile upon the chance to do what should be impossible. I have learned through many experiences… that there is nothing that cannot be done.” “…Learn, all of you, from this. I do not wish to see my children fight and die in vain, I do not wish to see you suffer. You are pure! You are power! You are the pride of the universe and the only true race of dragons… born of my complete power…”
Astaroth bowed, his black-and-gold cloak parting to reveal the shining plates of black armor he wore beneath… and the hilt of the sword that so finely matched both in hilt, and in stunning black blade. “As you wish, father.” Astaroth said unto Xenian as he slowly lifted his burning gaze, “We are ready.”

“…Then go, and let no man, woman, or child live in the wake of your passing.”

* * *

Ryu stepped into the temple that evening with a smile on his face. The congregation of the evening’s service hailed him as they always did, rising all together and bowing in his honor as he joined their pastor and with him made way to the altar in the midst of this grand auditorium.
The altar had been constructed mostly of magic for time’s sake. It was a perfect reflection of Kaiser and Sei standing together in unified power, a symbol of their union over the Brood. Ryu came to lead off the prayer, the nightly prayer they always spoke unto Kaiser and Sei.
Kneeling upon a velvet mat laying on the floor, Ryu bowed his head. Following suit did they all, including the organist who’s grand organ sang unto them a melody of holy beauty. “Father above us, whose face be wreathed in gold.” Ryu began, his voice echoing and combining with the voices of the congregation to thunderous effect, “We pray to you this night, as we pray unto you every night, that you may hear our praise and know that we hold faith in you. Lord Kaiser we beseech thee, grant us peace and prosperity, that we may serve you always. Lord Kaiser we beseech thee, grant us protection, that we may live to worship you until you have chosen our return into your arms. Lord Kaiser, we beseech the, bless us with your approval and your wisdom, that we may always know the truth and the way by your grace.”
A voice then came to them.“…None of these are things a God may give his subjects, Ryu. These, these are things that only you of the mortal realm may obtain. Therefore these are things that you must give unto yourselves.”
Ryu’s eyes opened slowly, his gaze rising in like fashion as before him was revealed the glowing figure of the one named… Kaiser. All gasped in awe, their eyes nearly popping out of their sockets in both shock and alarm. “...Ryu, my people…” Kaiser said with a grim tone to his voice, “I have come to you this day with a prophecy that shall immanently come to pass.”

“Xenian has risen.”

Ryu felt as if a gong had gone off in his heart as an icy chill coursed through his veins and stiffened his muscles. “…It’s only… been…” He muttered with a quiver to his voice that was quite unlike him, “It’s only been 10 months….”
“Such is the cruelty of fate, which thus far has smiled upon you.” Kaiser replied rather coldly as Ryu rose to his feet, standing even with the God who was quite literally his one and only father, “Be grateful you shall night face him immediately. Be grateful the assault shall not be focused upon you alone.”
Ryu’s face twisted in confusion, a grim expression if ever had their been one. “What do you mean?” He asked, officially oblivious to the gawking and confused slash terrified people about them. “Xenian fears you to some degree, Ryu. Know this going forward as a token for your morale.” Kaiser responded with a tone to match Ryu’s expression, “But of course, the opposite side of that token is unlucky.” “…He has drawn upon the celestial energies of the Fountain of Creation. He has brought forth a new race that shall soon be unleashed upon this realm. A new race of dragons. They are the Purebloods… draconic purity, the epitome of our race’s potential. They are created of his full power and majesty.” “…As compared to we of the light dragon clan, born of but one half of that same indomitable power…”
Ryu’s jaw grew tight. “An entire race. He wants… a war?” He asked with a heavy growl edging his soft voice. “He wants purification.” Kaiser replied, “Which is a definitive ‘Yes’. He would see each and every race upon this Earth… including our own… perish. So do live the Purebloods, and so must war begin.”
“….Where are they, and how much time do we have?” Ryu asked, his eyes shutting slowly as he begun to shake his head. “They are soon to arrive, but at this exact moment they dwell within the Void, with their master.” Kaiser explained, “Assemble all nations, assemble all armies. You have little time to prepare, and great distances in which you must travel…”
Ryu turned immediately to leave, but Kaiser’s hand gripped his should and held him fast in place. “Son.” Kaiser said firmly, “I sense your trepidation, it belies your wisdom. Know that death shall only befall them by the blades of their enemies. You have no choice, you must slay them all… and that sacrifices, my son, will have to be made.”

Turning, Ryu’s cold eyes were burning with fury as he nodded.

[Avarice]

Kaiser faded then into nothingness, as quickly as he had revealed himself unto the masses of his followers. They were left confused and alarmed. It would take city officials weeks to calm them down and set straight the information obtained this evening, even though they themselves as symbols of authority were just as bewildered as their subjects beneath them.
Meanwhile did Ryu march back to the palace, with a very important figure following behind him. Tico was a young man, the son of the former clan-leader of the Warrior dragons. He was also the commander of the Dragon Army, and had grown into the position well. “We shall begin fortification of the city immediately and shall prepare our strategies.” The young man said to his King as they entered the main hall, “I shall report back when I have something worthwhile to report.”
Ryu nodded his approval and continued on through to what could be considered the main living area of the palace, he knew they’d be there, all of them. The second he walked through the doors, Lavoisier and Greywolf’s faces began to harden. “What’s going on?” Lavoisier asked, standing with a dire frown. “Xenian.” Ryu stated, “As I was told, by… Kaiser.”
“Yep, not relevant.” Ananias said loudly enough to drown out the initial gasps of shock from Saphira, Sherri, Sira, and Lavoisier. Ryu was thankful for Ananias’ interruption, he didn’t have time to talk about Kaiser, only what Kaiser had said.

Which he did, after a long moment to compose himself.

“If I knew, I’d say we had a couple of days.” Ananias said after Ryu finished, and they began asking him when, where, and how. “That’s just enough time to assemble for defense of the immediate territory, not enough to assemble for the rest of the world. What are we going to do?!” Sira asked in alarm, “I mean… eh, sure Ani and Sherri can warp to Wyndia but, what about the South!?”
Ryu lowered his gaze. “The only thing we can do is pray they’ll see it coming and pray they can do something about it.” He said quietly, “The Worens and Grassrunners have always been good and running and hiding, no offence, and the Highlanders are great warriors.” “But… the Iron-Ogre clan… they’ve been going down there a lot, Rax is in such bad shape financially because of that. His mining settlement….”
“…Either way, a lot of people are going to die.” Greywolf said darkly from the side, glancing to the side at the hidden figures in the corner. “Yea, and beith that we doth find ourselves ‘midst their wrath…” Camellia muttered, alerting the others for the very first time of her and Gideon’s presence.
The alarm however was short lived, once they realized who it was they seemed to not care. “The message has already been sent home.” Ananias said quietly, “And I alerted Dover and Rax’s Chancellors as well… the West is already gearing up… too bad, they probably don’t have half of what they really need outside of Wyndia.”
Ryu’s heart sank when he thought about what Ananias was saying, and in his mind the words of Kaiser rang out: ‘Sacrifices will have to be made’. “…You’ll… of course, help them. Right?” He inquired of Ananias, who gave him a bit of a dull look and a solemn nod. “Wyndia has always been there, and will always be there, for our neighbors…” Sherri said quietly, “To the death our men will fight to defend them. As the richest and most powerful of the nations of the West it is our duty…”
Gideon’s eyes shimmered. “Thou taketh not mine court into thine considerations, Queen of Wyndia. I loathe thine lack of reverence.” He said with a strange tone to his voice none of them really recognized, “Yea, beith that they wouldest taketh of our land, woe be to thine enemies. Lo, nary a living soul shalt survive mine army, shalt survive mine wrath.”
“…That’s right, I’m sorry.” Sherri replied, a bit confused but more excited about a new possibility creeping in mind, “You could help us! The Wolf Clan could aid us, and help the Iron-Ogres defend Dauna at the very least!”
Gideon tilted his head. “Nay, we beith no fools. In aiding thee wouldest we draw attention unto ourselves. I shalt not risk the life of mine future grandchild.” He returned with a shake of his head. “…Future?” Vic asked curiously, glancing down to Danielle who slept (thankfully) soundly in her arms. “Yea, Ivan hath given his life that Emily may taketh in life.” Camellia explained, “Fear thee not, Ivan beith as we. Emily shalt live, and hast taken of him his seed that she may bear unto him a child.” “Yea, thou all hath missed much in thine absence.”
Greywolf blinked. Now his brother was dead, too? Why hadn’t he been informed of this earlier!? “…He’s dead?” Greywolf asked flatly, hiding well the confused emotion he felt, that emotion flirting on the edge of pain. “Yea, undead.” Gideon explained, “As thine mother said, he beith as we. Fear thee not for him, he doth feel true happiness, he doth feel true peace.”
Vic could only blink, glancing down to Danielle and shaking her head in disbelief. “Ok then, that’s all nice and wonderful but, uh…” Ananias, rolling his hand over in the air, urged with a sigh. “We have to stop talking about what we’re going to do and start doing it… I… I think Lavoisier and I should go and get mom and dad, they don’t need to be alone in those mountains like that.” Sira offered with a glance to Saphira, who immediately nodded her approval. “Let’s get started then, we don’t have time for anything.” Ryu sighed, “…I’ll be in bed as soon as I can, Saphira. I love you.”

Saphira’s heart sank. “I love you too…”

* * *

The rhythm of tribal drums kept her awake that night in the midst of the insufferably humid and nearly endless jungle of the largest land mass in the world… the southern continent. She was here among the Worens, observing their rituals and learning their primitive tribal magics. “…You human witch, why you watch?” One of the tribesman asked her. Normally the title of ‘witch’ would have been terribly insulting, but Alma took it as a compliment. A witch, after all, was what she intended to be. “I study every form of magic I come across.” Alma explained, stroking her narrow chin as her stark hazel eyes begun to glow, “I find the darkness within all magic and draw it out. It’s my lot in life, hmm?”
“You evil?” The woren asked, scratching his head. “No.” Alma assured him with a shake of her head, “Magic, no matter what it is… is neither good nor evil. It’s how you use it that aligns it.” “…By the way, it was extremely hard to find you guys out here… you know me, so I know you weren’t running. Why was it so hard to find a tribe?”
The woren frowned. “Many leave with Prophecy Child, her name Sherri. She take in blessing of Bastet, travel with dragons.” He explained, “She queen of kingdom in north land, take much people for pop… poppa....”
Alma smiled. “Population. I understand what you’re trying to say.” She said with a glance to the northern star. Strange, but then many strange things happened out here on this side of the canyon. She, like any other human to be found in the south in these times, lived on what could almost be called the ‘other half’ of the Southern Continent.
Separating what she had always called the ‘Endless’ Jungle from the various terrain to be found elsewhere on the continent was a great canyon, which supposedly was the beginning of separation. The continent would eventually split in twine, it was said.

Of course, those people had no idea that’d take another millennia or more.

Magic had been her method of transportation… the old bridge that once had crossed the canyon had been destroyed long ago. She would never forget, nigh on two years ago at that point, when the Earth had begun to shake so violently. The tremors had came from this general direction, even further towards the East perhaps… the direction of what had once been...
Alma lowered her gaze, expelling those dark memories from her mind and thankful she hadn’t had to go much farther than the canyon itself to find this particular tribe. They were fifth in line for power among the Woren race, and probably the friendliest of them all. Unfortunately they were also unintelligent… hence the low rank in the order. She had learned all she could, it was time to pack up and head out.
Unfortunately in the south, nothing was usually ever that simple. The Jungle, it was truly a dangerous place. Getting lost was probably one of the most obvious threats to one’s existence, but moreover were the various assortment of apex predators that roamed these lands, and the native monsters.

Specifically, the Unguori.

[Avarice]

Alma had only made it around two miles out from the tribe’s camp when a telltale and haunting growl came from behind her. Turning slowly, her hand settling in quickly on the bladed whip upon her hip, she cursed her luck. Behind her stood a deceptively quick beast with a mind that could almost match it. It was a squat creature, they grew no more than five feet tall, and was nearly as big around as it was tall. It almost looked like some sort of giant, walking head. It’s only real feature was a large crease in the shape of an upside down U that went from one side of its body, up below the large bugging eyes it sported directly on the top of its head.
In truth the bulging body it sported was mostly like elastic. At will any part of its totally boneless body could stiffen. Now, this was important to know when it came to dealing with them, mainly because if you didn’t have something sharp to mutilate them with, you weren’t going to kill them.
“…Alright…” Alma muttered, glancing to either side and spitting when she noticed the rest of this one’s group (they traveled in very small clans of females, males were solitary creatures) were on her right flank. That was a sign of their able albeit primitive intelligence, which was why Alma was sweating bullets. “Get back…” She warned them as they begun to roll there nearly gelatinous bodies sideways, staying always at her side, “I will use magic… I will…”
The first Unguori launched, coiling like a spring and shooting forward. That was when the crease opened to reveal that the vast majority of this creature was indeed just a giant mouth full of massive, serrated teeth.
Alma’s whip lashed forward viciously, the bladed edge slicing away one of the creature’s eyes and hooking the spindly tongue in its mouth, tearing that free as she jerked her whip back and sent it to her right, across the faces of the other four.
Throwing herself sideways and backwards as her whip recoiled, Alma came to a knee and threw her empty left hand forward. A word in a strange tongue followed, and the ensuing globe of fire exploded on contact with the ground in the midst of the Unguori.
Unfortunately, the Unguori were very resistant to fire, something Alma had never been aware of before. “No fair!” She exclaimed in shock, as the first one and three others emerged. The matted patches of fur on their bodies was gone, revealing just how truly nasty looking the blob-like things really were. In disgust as much as fear, Alma lashed the first one again, this time blinding it totally. In the same motion she spun about like a top, sliding to the ground as the other three launched for her. Rising up as they spun on her, she blasted the one closest to her view-point-blank with a bolt of lightning. The bolt tore through the creature effortlessly, passing through the left-upper side of the one behind it, and gave the one in last a jolt it would never forget.
Now three of five were dead. One was crippled, and one was stunned. Alma wasted no time, Turning on the blinded one and putting a bolt of lightning through it’s body-encompassing maw. The final Unguori however… was a different story. Turning slowly, Alma realized she had been wrong… that last one wasn’t stunned… it was paralyzed.
“…Huh…” Alma muttered, glancing to the side to see that one who had not returned from the fire lying in a pool of molten flesh, “Resistant but, not immune… yet electricity can put them down… easy.”
Alma was the curious type, at least when it came to magic. She’d been taught the ancient rites of black tribal magic all of her life… of course, she’d spent most of that life in these jungles living amongst the various tribes of Woren and Grassrunner with her now-deceased mother, Patricia… who had also been her teacher.
To study the Unguori was Alma’s plan as she mercifully ended the nasty thing’s life and stopped for the night to begin dissecting it. Not even the most bold of the Jungle’s monsters would bother her now, any that had witnessed the scene would have already fled… and any to come upon it would sense the definitively horrifying air of magic.

Magic to the monsters of the south meant death, and always, it had.

A living example of why unfolded as Alma picked apart that Unguori and studied it as if it were an object. The witches of the South were notorious for harvesting monsters and animals for their spells and alchemy. Alma’s budding interest in the latter was her only reason to indulge in such a grotesque activity, this Unguori probably hadn’t even been hungry, it had a gullet full of deer fawn.
But it was worth it, for Alma. Beneath that particularly nasty bit, she found something interesting. The Unguori were obviously a unique species… and one of their most unique features was the fact their central nervous system was separate though linked to the brain.
Alma knew immediately what it was, and that it would be vital in her next alchemy experiments. Taking of it, she disposed of the bodies. With the morning, she would leave this place and return home… and once home, the experiments would begin!

* * *

Other than a cluster of islands and the furthest reaches of the South and North, there were no continents in the eastern hemisphere of the Earth. This was why they descended here, this is why Xenian had dared to transport them directly as compared to implanting their souls within beings already there upon the Earth.
From the sky they came, Six beams of light. Astaroth, Malthius, Vanthia, Daragor, Lyris, and Tharizdun. The clustering islands were illuminated as a whole, as if the sun had miraculously ‘appeared’ in the sky above. Nocturnal creatures that roamed those islands, and sleeping tribesmen who had dwelt there all their lives, had no idea what in the world could possibly be happening.

…And they definitely had no idea they were all going to die within the next ten days.

Astaroth’s plated boots settled first upon the grass of the cluster’s largest isle. Behind him to the right settled in Vanthia… the rest followed suit in like fashion. “…And, we are here.” Lyris cooed, her voice whip-like and bearing a vicious edge. “Let the games begin, yes?” Daragor inquired of Astaroth, his brow rising in curious excitement. “…Silence.” Astaroth said quietly, his voice soft but with an unmistakably authoritive edge, “Malthius, Vanthia. You handle your respective sides. I shall handle my direction alone… as for the rest of you, do what you shall with the low side. Be aware, dramatic surges of power here can and will be sensed by our enemy.” “…With this in mind, be wary of yourselves. Go.”
Malthius turned and snarled, throwing himself into the midst of his transformation. It was with gusto that Vanthia did the same. Following suit were Daragor, Lyris, and silent-but-present Tharizdun. Astaroth turned, examining his uniquely individual subordinates.
Malthius’ dragon form was as ugly as his human form, he featured an oddly shaped, elongated head with thick scales covering the upper half of his skull like armor. His horns barely turned outwards at all, curving instead downwards parallel with his jawline. Various portions of his body were liken to his head. Over his breast most notably with a line of lethal ridges running down his sternum. He was colored a burnt tan slash brown color, the darkest of them all in tone.
Vanthia’s dragon form was lithe with long limbs. Her head was slender, her wings flaring large and wide. Her scaling was mostly tannish in color, lighter and more liken to sand on her underbelly as she reared upon her hind legs and leapt into the air.
Daragor’s form matched his human body, it was diminutive in size. However, he somewhat made up for this with a luscious coat of shining purple/black scaling. That of course, was his own doing, for it should be obvious a lack of physical prowess would obvious be made up for with magic.
“…Hold.” Astaroth said then, just as Lyris was beginning to initiate her transformation (as was Tharizdun as well, but he was barely noticeable). “What?” Lyris asked with a hiss, angered to be interrupted. “You need not transform. Three of you is enough, mount Daragor and ride outwards.” Astaroth replied, his eyes narrowing dangerously as a warning that Lyris took immediately. “Ah… your no fun.” Lyris sighed, hopping upon Daragor’s back with Tharizdun following behind her. “Tharizdun.” Astaroth said before Daragor could take flight, “Have confidence. You are weakest among us, but you are still one of us. Enjoy your kills, and may Xenian be with us.”

Tharizdun nodded, remaining silent.

[Avarice]

Staying up this late at night was something his parents had always scolded him for, for as long as he could remember. ‘Demons, evil spirits, monsters… they all come out at night!’, they’d warned him. But as always, he was ignoring their warnings again. But, this night, the worst nightmares of his parents were about to come true. The only blessing, was that they wouldn’t outlive there son by very much time at all.
Malthius descended upon the settlement, a village of around fifty people. It was one of many that dotted these islands, it was one of many that would burn this night. The boy saw the coming dragon before it saw him. Letting out a blood curdling scream, the boy turned and ran for his life right down the middle of the street. Normally one might say that was rather unwise, but he had no chance to begin with, and secondly he was attempting to alert the villagers.
Of course, even if he had succeeded in waking all of them he still would never have saved them from the grizzly fate that was upon them. Malthius’ massive jaws opened wide, and forthwith from his lungs did he exhale a wave of pure flame. Their huts, made of straw and mud, were consumed in flames. Within, the unprotected villagers either roasted alive in their own homes, or ran screaming and burning in all directions like a swarm of fiery insects.
Malthius landed in the midst of town as the town’s hunters (who were their only warriors) assembled and begun firing their primitive bows. Their arrows bounced off his hide, there was no possible way for them to harm him. One swipe of his massive left claw left a gory mess behind. His claws and even his scales were edged wickedly, barbed and constructed to deal out merciless death.
The left claw shot out, taking the legs from one man, leading off Malthius’ first taste of human flesh. The dragon’s giant head shot forward, mouth agape. One man was bitten whole, leaving only his feet behind. By stroke of tragically awful luck, the two on his left and right where both impaled by Malthius’ horns… and died even as he threw his head back and sent their bodies flying with their intestines leaking from the massive holes that had once been their abdomens.

Meanwhile, on the other side of those cursed isles....

Vanthia’s wave of destruction came over a series of villages, and unlike Malthius she wasn’t going to bother getting dirty. From her slender maw came a gargantuan bolt of lightning which, much like a plant, sprouted off vine-like bolts that shook and carved at the Earth as she circled about with the winds of the coming monsoon.
Their arrows had a similar effect on her as they would… stone. Bouncing off even parts that probably should have been easier to penetrate, such as her tongue in one outrageously lucky incident. “Run!” One of the villagers cried in horror, shortly before disintegrating as the main bolt of Vanthia’s lightning breath caught him squarely.
Of course, while Vanthia didn’t want to get her precious scales bloody… she did want to eat, she was hungry. Swooping down did she target a particularly large man. He was their shaman, and a shaman among these people was like a King. As King he was not required to do much of anything, therefore… he was as one would say politely, ‘husky’.

And eaten, when Vanthia bit his body off his lower legs.

Throwing her head back to swallow her kill, Vanthia’s eyes narrowed in delight, what a tasty morsel that had been! Spinning, sh launched to the ground and landed, shaking the isle as she lowered herself to the ground and swept her jaw across the Earth, sweeping into her waiting jaws a crowd that had manage to at least escape to the outskirts of their village.
Rising and chewing, this time, Vanthia was oblivious to the fact it was quite literally raining blood and severed limbs below her as she savored her glorious meal. “How wonderful,” She said with a bit of a smile, her voice magnified intensely and greatly deepened in dragon form, “We shant go hungry…”
The giggle she let out on the tail end of her words was bitterly evil, hauntingly so. It would not take her long to find the next settlement, and then she would repeat this process, as would Malthius across from her on the other side.

…As Daragor and company would on the south side.

Lyris took great joy in her flail… or ball-and-chain if one would prefer to call it so crudely. Daragor had been kind enough to drop her and Tharizdun off before sweeping out over the water separating this village from the rest they had been able to locate. “I say we kill them all at once.” Lyris cackled, spinning the one large spiked ball her weapon sported easily. Her strength, it was supernatural… obviously a gift of race. She demonstrated this as frightened hunters came to investigate.
With a sharp swing did her flail shoot outwards, smashing into and destroying the lead man’s skull. It verily exploded, blinding the men behind him in a wave of blood, brain matter, and bone fragments. “Mm.” Tharizdun grunted, hefting his halberd and stepping forward, thrusting the spike tip through the nearest man’s throat before tearing it free, and sending the blade itself through the clash of the next man’s chest.
Thrusting behind himself, without so much as glance, Tharizdun impaled a man who had thought himself hidden, jerking his weapon free and spinning, ducking beneath the shaft of his weapon as he spun it over his head and swatted aside the machete of his next enemy.
Off-balance, disarmed, the man fell forward into death. The only mercy granted to him was the fact he never saw Lyris’ flail coming as it crashed into and through the back of his skull. “Ooh! Messy.” Lyris giggled in child-like fashion, her face splattered with blood, “Tharizdun! Don’t kill them all, play fair…”
Tharizdun glanced back, setting his hands apart and putting the shaft of his weapon up to block another machete… again, without looking. Lyris found this curious, but didn’t exactly have time to question his apparent sixth sense. Spinning, her flail came across the wrist and hand on a warrior bearing an axe. Effortlessly did one of the many spikes adorned to that ball skewer that wrist, locking it with the other.
Laughing madly at the man’s agonized scream, Lyris spun about him and twirled the chain of her flail about the man’s neck, taking him down to his knees as she put her knee between his shoulder blades and pushed, pulling back simultaneously with her arms.
As compared to strangulation, the man died of a broke neck. If she had given it any true effort she probably could’ve pulled his head straight off, but internal decapitation would have to do for now.
Behind Lyris did Tharizdun begin chasing down the terrified villagers. His halberd severed legs and spines as he ran in behind them, swiping with tactical and well-aimed slices that ended the fleeing of whomsoever he chose to slay.

The genocide was over within an hour, and not one body was left in any state less than tattered.

Daragor preferred to do things in simple fashion, he cared not for the glorious slaughter his comrades so relished. Silently, blending impossibly well into the night sky, he passed over many villages. Some were smaller than others, some were larger than others. But regardless of size, not a single man or beast within drew breath any longer… and without ever knowing just how they died.
That was because Daragor, moreso than Vanthia or Malthius, was following Astaroth’s orders of subtlety to the tee. After all, this was just a test of their abilities and prowess, a way for them to adjust to this new world and the variables that came along with it. It was with the spell ‘Death’ that he ended so many lives that night, casting it casually and en masse over broad areas wherein he sensed life. The effect of the spell was instantaneous. Those who died in his wake died peacefully and in their sleep as anyone ready to die would probably want.

…Not that any of them were ready to die, but, that was irrelevant to Daragor.