Completed [Seasonal Quest] Upon a Star (Open)

[Fallacy]

Miro The woman didn’t move, didn’t react to Miro or his speech. She just watched him. Her garb had changed since the last time Miro had seen her. From the dress she now dons armor as if she was some general leading an army. A crown adored her head, three spikes of gold protruded from it, the two on the side would line up with her eyes, if one measured an invisible line they would match almost perfectly. Embedded in those spokes were two rather impressive looking diamonds. The middle spike would be directly center between the other ones this one however shows a red ruby. Her armor was of red looking steel that glowed slightly, and her sword, propped up against the throne, was sheathed, but it too glowed with a strange power. If magic was used to discern properties of either the armor or the sword, nothing would be found, nothing could be learned because it doesn’t exist. A faint smile spread upon her face as she watched him, taking her head off her hand and sitting up straighter, ”Did I send for you?” she asked, ”No. I did not summon you.” she said, looking around the room still looking bored, ”Ionu dare not show their face here.” she explained, ”They hide within the illusions, layer after layer, hiding from reality, hiding from the truth that they are old news.” she told him, ”They are too busy playing pretend to even pass a second glance at this city of mortals. Ionu is not gone,” she shook her head, ”no, but they might as well be. For Ionu is not going to save you here. Ionu no longer reigns here supreme.” The gaze fell upon the sword that Miro carried with him as he took his time climbing the stairs, ”What do you intend to with that?” she asked, gesturing to it, not moving in her throne, ”Weapons of mortals cannot harm me.” she said, ”Though, I am bored.” she stood up, reaching for the red glowing weapon of a material unknown, ”Let’s see how long you can entertain me.” she smiled at him, slowly drawing her sword, once drawn the sheath disappeared as if it never existed in the first place. The sword was one of red metal; it too glowed with an unknown power. ”Though fighting up here is no place. We want to be as fair as possible after all.” she said, the room itself shifting, the steps becoming level, sinking into the ground, or perhaps they were rising, it was impossible to tell. The room twisted and churned with impressive power as it was transformed. The throne room was no more. In its place was a marble room with the same red rug, the same pillars stretching skyward, but the room was expanded to unbelievable size. The space between Miro and Drysalla lengthened too until they were about fifteen feet apart. Holding her sword out in front of her, her other hand tucked behind her back, ”Entertain me.” she said pushing her feet apart and taking a basic stance, sword pointed at the boy. The lady’s eyes locked with Miros, her sword held before her ready to fend off any attack. A moment of deep contemplation came over her as she watched him, absorbing his every movement, his every action, and then, like a snake, she lunged, striking at him. The sword flew, following her arm as she advanced her footing with a slight yell that seemed rather odd coming from her. For the first time she was fighting Miro like a mortal would. What does that mean? Antar and Eridanus Verlyna never liked battle or fighting, Aceren always had protected, he had always made sure that she never had to fight. Though it seemed that this time Aceren would have failed her, a deep pain entered her heart as she realized that when she reached her Aceren they both were falling, through the murder hole. Screaming on the way down, she landed on Aceren, and then there was a weight on top of her as well, that Ethaefal which had ran them over. Dazed, and unable to move yet alone think straight she laid there for a while trying to regain her senses, ”Shai?” she whispered, reaching up for Aceren, placing a hand on his cheek, she smiled, ”No, Shai doesn’t exist.” she whispered, ”It’s a dream, remember silly?” she asked, ”I am here with you right now, your Verlyna.” she smiled, shifting, trying to get out from the tangle of limbs. Once she was up she looked at the two, ”Lets stop this fighting.” she said, her words were filled with hypnotic venom, trying to calm everyone down, ”There is no reason to fight anymore. Your friend,” she looked at Eridanus, ”isn’t Aceren.” she told him, ”You have mistaken my Aceren for someone else.” she told him pleading. There was a look in her eyes if Eridanus could see, a look of desperation, of heartbreak, she had finally found her love again and she didn’t want to let him go, ”Please, leave us.” she said, ”We will no longer interfere in your quest. I do not care what happens to Towers or Drysalla, I have Aceren.” she said, ”I finally have my Aceren back.” she said, ”That is more than enough for me to be content. Do you not know how weary hearts grow alone? Do you not know the pain of being separated from your lover for such a long time, the pure joy of being reunited?” Tears were starting to well up in her eyes, it seems that she had tricked more than just Antar into believing that he was Aceren, ”I’ll tell you once more.” she said, wiping her eyes, ”Leave us.” her voice however was now stern and filled with such commanding power that it would make any man shutter.

[Miro]

Miro continued up the stairs that seemed to stretch and flow ever long while the woman spoke. She believed herself the new master of tricks and illusion, but Ionu was just the type to encourage such perceptions. This was not Miro's first time facing the unknown danger that Alvadas submerges its residents in, he had been conditioned by it. In the past fear had caused him to turn and run, only to find himself moving forwards. Trying to hide was the quickest way to end up in plain sight.

There was no room for that in such a place as this. Instead you must face deception and move along with it. Miro tightened his grip on the blade as the stairs became few, the woman still taunting him. Every foe had a weakness, this was no different. His foe was all hyped up on illusion, and seeing as she claimed immortality, it was likely she was more illusion than person. The only way the boy could even dream of fighting trickery was with more trickery.

The Reimancer began to pour liquid Res from his back under his clothing. He would pad the inside of his shirt with it, enough to strike her down, when given the shot. Miro arrived at the top of the stairs, prompting her arrogance to push further. She drew a crimson blade as she plead him to entertain her, so he would, just for her. After all, she was so kind as to change the scenery.

A rumbling twisted and turned the room around, it pulled the ground up, them apart, shifting everything between. Across the room now, Drysalla stood, blade in hand, issuing a challenge. Having seen her power before, it was a challenge he would gladly take. He was not skilled in using such a blade, but she was skilled in illusion, a fair trade off.

Miro readied up his stance, his feet widened and his body hunched over. He leaned forward, his arms hanging low, left hand lightly gripping his right wrist. His right arm held the blade firmly, ready to strike, but how nervous it made him to approach her. He gently eased his way in, moving side to side, one quick shift in momentum after another. The closer he came, the more his body would start to tremble.

Working as a Gladiator had its perks, something she would never understand. Every day he had watched his fellow ring warriors battle with this weapon in varied styles. Miro came close, ready to make his strike, yet stricken with fear for his life. Experience told him that it all came down to the one fatal blow, but he knew this woman would be different.

Now in close, the boy raised his weapon, holding it out before him with his right hand. His right side was turned back, his left foot forward, a defensive stance. Nerves gripped him in place, disarming him to be a still target. His fear kept him from being able to accept what would happen if he were to move in any closer, leaving the first move to his opponent.

Without losing a second, she sensed his hesitation. In a fierce snap she was forward, upon him with a piercing lunge. The boy reacted as quickly as possible, redirecting energy from his left leg as he pushed back with his right.
The stolen energy quickly filled his right arm, increasing its strength and power threefold. He brought his arm in across his chest and swiped it outwards to his right, his only chance for survival.

The motion of driving back and turning his wrist to carry out a parry would have been executed well enough, had he time to practice with the blade. Instead he found himself coming up short, making each part of his movement a bit too sluggish. The blade connected, but instead was flung out of his Flux empowered grip by a lithe twist of the wrist. The wizard's eyes opened wide, his body powerless to react as her movement carried through. Along with his movement back she extended her thrust, it curved back in towards the boy's gut.

Miro followed the movement with his eyes, knowing his body would not be able to keep up, he had to act out of desperation. From each of his limbs, he pulled the energy to his core, to the point of impact. His abs clenched tight, hard, as if he could flex harder than red steel. There was nothing left for him to do but to take the attack and pray to live. His weakened body still in motion of retreat would not be able to regain composure, he would find himself on the ground.

Miro's mind would quickly turn to survival, some way he could keep his life. Being at the mercy of her blade meant the end of his brash attitude, but not the end of his trickery. If he was going to die, it would not be with uncast Res. "Please, spare me, Lady Drysalla," he begged, cowering on the floor. Casting through the pain of a wound was difficult, to say the least, but not impossible. She would have to come near to finish him off. A bitter taste lightning in return for all she had done for the city was all he asked.

[Eridanus]

There was that tiny moment of recognition. That spark that spoke of illumination and enlightenment that lingered for only a split second in the cloudy eyes of the hypnotized rogue. But that was enough to renew Eri's faith that he was indeed correct. That was enough for him to know that there was enough of his friend still left within that mind-controlled shell that was worth saving.

Just as he believed the offer of salvation from what he thought to be Priskil centuries ago, he would similarly extend such a hope to Antar. He would not abandon his friend and subject the decision to the usual, rational cost-benefit analysis he always used.

"You cannot be more fooled, Verlynna! Look-" Eridanus grasped the white haired rogue by his collar, his other hand still twitching to protect himself for that previous back-handed slap the man gave him on his cheek still burned in pain. "He is clearly not your 'Aceren'! He is Antar, and he has his own life and destiny to fulfill! Understand the situation Verlynna! You no longer exist! You are just an imitation of life, shadow given form by divine djed and the hatred of a witch hell-bent of domination."

His eyes softened, as he attempted to negotiate with the long-dead hypnotist since she seemed to declare her indifference to the war waged by Drysalla. But before he could open his mouth her words struck him, and it seemed like his soul was being smashed by a hammer.

Eridanus cringed, mustering his shattered will but his determination was somehow crumbling. He tried to metaphorically piece himself together, but if his will were grains of sand, they were slipping through his fingers. Verlynna was powerful, she was simply too powerful at what she do.

"Antar..." The ethaefal pleaded, when Verlynna again directed a gaze at him. A gaze so powerful yet so sorrowful that she made him understand what it was like to lose a lover so close. He had suffered losses himself long ago, but they were already weathered with time and distanced in memory. Yet, the memories and feelings she washed the ethaefal over with seemed current and raw, just as if she lost the man.

An involuntary tear rolled down his cheek as he understood her pain and her suffering. Yet, he could not allow her to continue, for her wishes to patch up her own tragedy would only lead to another tragedy further on. Mere wishes given form could never lead a happy and proper life with a true, living and physical being.

Eridanus stared at her as his thoughts spoke to her, engaging her in a wordless conversation nuanced by meaningful emotions and the soulful tinge of his gaze. Would she understand? Would she??

[Fallacy]

Warning: Both sections of this post are very dark. Miro The fight was a quick one, as any fight with steel goes. The ringing of metal on metal could be heard as Miro fought admirably, but in the end made a fatal mistake. The boy now found himself at Drysallas mercy, the same mercy she had shown all of Alvadas. Extending her blade forward, finishing the motion it would bite into Miro, piercing his gut easy as butter, and driving through to almost spill his innards out his other side. Though her reach had been extended already, and her arm was just short. ”It wouldn’t be fair to have mercy now.” she said coldly, a small smile of satisfaction on her face seeing the blood run down the boy. The blade dirtied with the halflings blood, she admired the sheen which Miros blood provided it with. ”Your blood matches my sword.” she made the observation as Miro would fall to the floor. ”However,” she looked at him, ”you are not quite dead.” she frowned, ”I want to kill you myself.” she said brining the sword back again to take another stab at Miro, this one would land, going through the Gastrocnemius on his left leg. The sword would stay there embedded as she walked around him, kneeling down by his head she would take his face in her hands, ”Slowly.” she said turning his head towards her so he looked her in the eyes, she patted his hair and held him, ”Surely, though I wouldn’t want to do anything you wouldn’t want me to.” she said sadistically placing his head in her lap as she looked over him, ”I want you to tell me when you’d like to die.” she said, looking at his free leg, before in a flash a spike of metal descended down upon it, pinning it too to the floor. ”Then… I will show you mercy, dear child. Then I will spare you from this cruel fate.” If anything was an indicator of Drysallas sadistic urges it would have been the spikes and blood on the wall seen when Miro first walked in. Had she done the same thing to the other person that she is doing to him now? ”You know…” she said, her hand moving about and playing with his black hair, ”Did I ever tell you how I died?” she asked, shaking her head, ”Of course not, silly me. I couldn’t tell anyone because I was dead.” she said, laughing as if it was some kind of joke. ”It was kind of like this.” she said, pausing her story but a moment to drive a spike through Miros shoulder, just below the collar bone, by the arm pit. Even if Miro would cry out in pain, she would be there clutching him tighter, ‘shhhh… shhhh’, trying to soothe him. When the pain was once again bearable she would continue looking down into his eyes, ”I was all alone. Like you. Yes, much like you.” She nodded, the scenery changing, warping around them to show some unknown, dark place. Shadows clinged to the walls, obscuring the vision of those who tried to look too far. It was like a faded memory, the distant past. ”I was scared, it was dark.” as if on cue the light would get even darker, as her story would continue it would build itself in front of them. ”Ive never seen this side of Alvadas before. I thought it was all a joke, but in the end the joke was on me.” She paused, looking around the place as if to see everything was how she remembered it. ”It all happened so fast. I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up I was bound to a table. The table was wooden, I remember its feel.” her voice seemed to grow more distant as she grew more and more absorbed in her memory. ”I was naked, exposed, and there were people standing over me.” she said, continuing to pet Miro, ”I saw them, and I felt the worst fear imaginable. They did horrible things to me. They raped me, those pigs that called men. I begged them to stop, but they had no mercy.” Miro could then start to hear her screams and begs, her pleading, and their laughing at her. ”They were the true monsters. Though they did not stop there. They even took my beauty.” she said, as the sound of hammer could be heard striking metal, and a weird sound between the screams. Though the screams got softer and softer and the sound of metal on metal got louder, the sound of skin tearing, muscles were ripping… Until another sound joined in the sickening breaking sound of the spike going through the bone, and penetrating the table. ”Just like you.” The striking didn’t stop there, but the hammer was raised again and metal and body met once more. ”I was killed just like you are going to be.” she said, ”They drove spikes through every non-vital part of my body. Before they were done I was begging to die, but they just kept on hammering away. Soon pain was replaced with pain, and nothing mattered anymore. Emptiness, fear, pain… those were the emotions which filled my last moments.” she said another spike materializing out of the air, and driving itself in Miros other shoulder blade, exactly opposite of the one on the right side. ”Though you will die eventually.” she said, softly in his ear, ”even if you don’t beg for it. Soon you will know my pain…” Eridanus ”I know.” she said, she sounded a little deflated, defeated by Eridanus’ words. ”Its… Its just not fair.” she yelled in frustration, ”Not fair.. Why, why cant I be happy?” she asked him, falling to her knees. Antar remained silent throughout; he seemed caught somewhere in his own mind between Antar and Aceren. He was no longer present, but caught in a trance of his own design, his brain trying to sort out the truth for itself. A gloom seemed to shift and stir, manifest in the atmosphere around them. The sadness was tangible, given life by Verylnas magic. It was a deep and profound grief, one that made the observer question the value of life itself. ”Why?” she asked again, unable to come up with the answer herself. Her body was visibly shaking as she was breaking down, more tears being shed as she covered her face and stooped down low and wept. All she wanted was love, and to be loved… by her dearest Aceren. Soon though she sniffed, and straightened herself. Looking up at Eridanus she said, ”I don’t know… I don’t want to live anymore.” she said, looking over a couple feet away and spying her dagger which she had dropped on her fall down there. Scrambling to get it she clutched at the handle, her hand was shaking as she brought it up to her face. Her emerald eyes stared at the blade almost longingly, and the lust for death permeated the space. This was a grief, a darkness projected by the hypnotist as her mind came to one conclusion: to stop feeling this pain she must die. Bringing the knife back, drawing it over her head she aimed to stab herself in the stomach…

[Miro]

What had he done? So many things flashed through his mind as the world hollowed out to become faint noises. The sound of metal clashing, then suddenly a powerful detachment from his body. Alvadas, what would become of it? Ionu had the power to end all of this, yet still the games continued onward, passing soul after soul to Dira and Lhex. Thoughts of his loved ones, his magic, the bitter hatreds in his heart that needed resolution, all of it went through his mind in an instant. He was defeated with ease and shown no mercy.

The pain hit him full force, a fatal blow as far as he could tell. His Vantha eyes shot bright pink from rush of pain, so much more intense than any he had ever felt. His body hit the ground hard, and the yelp he let out only ached him further. Drysalla mouthed words that had no sound to him, too distant still to focus on what was being said. He writhed in agony on the ground a while longer, his hands clasped to the wound that oozed red. Apart from the wound, he felt her eyes were upon him, burning him with hatred. Finally words began to become clear. She had no intent on letting him bleed out, though nothing could prepare him for what came next.

Miro cried out in misery, being tortured further. She pierced his calf with her sword, leaving it inside of him. He screamed, but did not care to look, accepting his fate. The weight of the heavy blade caused it to droop and begin to tear the muscle from bone. Drysalla only laughed at his cries for mercy. The cruel resurrected woman came to kneel before his face, looking deep into his eyes. There was almost a subtle hint of compassion in her actions. Even though she had done all of this, caused all of this suffering for him and the city, he somehow enjoyed the interaction. The boy closed his eyes to resist the tears streaming from his eyes.

Having his head placed in her lap, the calm tone to her voice, it was sweet for a moment. For only just a moment, her inflection suddenly souring. The words echoed through the Mixed Blood's swirling mind, so caught between regret and misery. "I want you to tell me when you'd like to die." He thought the sentence over again, unsure whether or not to accept her offer or fight on. Deep in his soul, he knew Fate would not carry him so far to do nothing. Even if his destiny was only to stall her while she tortured him, it was one he had to accept.

Suddenly a spike shot down, pinning Miro's other leg to the floor. He wished to cry out again, but his voice was hoarse. Her words, they were just as cruel as her torture. Speaking of mercy, not doing anything he wouldn't want. What he wished for was a chance to kill her in return. If he could tell her when he would like to die, his answer would be sarcastic. He would like to die when he is old and has mastered magic. But surely he was better to sit and suffer silently. He had little chance or choice but to.

Her ruse continued, more talking, more lighthearted, one sided banter. Her laughter made him sick. And even though the wizard was fading, he did his best to listen to her story. It was one of those stories with an interactive feel to it, like you were there. The story began with another spike, this time through his shoulder. This stab, it was unbearably painful, crunching through flesh and bone alike. Such a slice was hardly quick or clean, but the spike dug deep, piercing through the other side. He began to sputter out sounds tasked to be words, curses on her very existence, but managed only to ache himself further.

The woman shushed him and began to try to calm him, only furthering his frustration. Everything was spinning and his very life was draining away from him. Through some sort of magic or hallucination, their scenery warped before his eyes. Everything grew dark and cold, and he did in fact feel alone. Her tale unwound before him, and painted a moving mural in his mind. She explained all that had happened, and he felt her pain, heard her screams. All of the misery, shame, and most of all, he felt the regrets and longing for it all to end. Those men took everything she held dear. The sound of clanking metal was sickening. Every time the metal crashed, he flinched, and felt his pain grow deeper.

Miro's vision faded away, being replaced entirely by sound. The laughter faded, but he could hear tearing of flesh, snapping of bone, cries much like his own, too broken to be understood. A final bout of pain shot through, another spike through his other side. The sound of it digging through bone and finally anchoring in wood, his body only reacting to the force of the wound. His eyes remained closed, though beneath the closed lids they began to whiteout. His consciousness draining from him as he lay dying. Everything he had worked for, how useless it was now. Every hope and dream he had for his life came to an end here. He could only pray that Ionu would restore Alvadas.

[Eridanus]

The conversation between the ethaefal and the hypnotist legend was more wordless than verbal. The glances between their eyes, their body behavior, the little actions they did that nuanced their words many times more than what the literal words meant. Those formed the bulk of the real conversation, and Eridanus saw his soulful persuasion took effect. Perhaps, it took too much effect.

Verlynna could not help but express her grief all around her. That was the extent of her powers; even when muted in an illusory form and only possessing a fraction of her original grandeur it was still awe-inspiring indeed. It took all of Eri's focus and courage to not drop to his knees and whimper in sorrow. Yet, tears welled in his eyes uncontrollably as he took a step after the other, trying to reach the girl.

Even with her power, and the intimidating aura of strength that expounded from her, Eridanus could still see that in the end she was but a lost girl. A lost and lonely girl, out of her depths and out of her understanding, only wanting to pursue happiness but seeing everything around her crumble down before her very eyes. He understood her depression, he understood her solitude, and he understood her bitterness.

The ethaefal and the illusion - both beings that did not belong on Mizahar. Two beings who were not supposed to exist in the mortal plane, only doing so out of an extraordinary anomaly. An abberant phenomenon.

And that was when he finally understood her. Who she really was, and not who she 'was'. Though he would not admit it to anyone else for fear of being seen as weak and emotional, he felt it.

He felt it.

And he knew what to do.

The celestial being fought on, taking several stops as Verlynna continued to self-rationalize, finally reaching the decision that by now was evident to both of them. Taking a final step, he reached the hypnotist who was now oblivious to the rest of the world, drowning in her own sorrow. With his arms, he sought to be the light in her misery, to be the warmth to her that he did not have when he was struggling in his own depression centuries ago.

Gently but firmly he wrenched the dagger out of her hands with his superior strength, his arms grasping her body weak from sobbing, and hugged her fiercely. There was no words, for there was no need to. The mixture of feelings and words from his aura mingled with hers, and she would know what he wanted to tell her.

That it was alright, that he had gone through what she was going through now, and that he understood and empathized her pain.

It'll be alright, Verlynna. It'll be fine.

He no longer saw her as just a nameless foe that he must vanquish, but as a person. As a person worth saving, despite her existence as an illusion. That did not matter to him, because now she had a personality, and she had a resemblance of a soul, and a conscience. That was all the justification he needed to save her.

There is still salvation for you. There is hope.

The last of his tears from before dripped onto her shoulders as he simply stood there existing as her beacon of moral support and the physical contact that all mortals crave in their weakest moment, the social beings that they were. With the last of the tears came a resolute strength, and came hope and optimism.

Priskil give this poor soul a little of your warmth, whether she deserves it or not. Let me be her link to you, and to be your agent in granting her the spark of hope she needs to continue on. Just see it as a favor to me, alright?

Without speaking, he expressed all of these in just his feelings, projecting them onto her as best as he could. Whether he could transfer them with his own ability or whether she picked them up with her powers, it did not matter. Because he knew that she would feel it, and that she would understand.

As long as the world is not over and you are still 'alive', there is always hope.

"Forge your own destiny, Verlynna," The ethaefal finally spoke, murmuring to her as he slowly released her from his hug when she recovered from her sad episode to give her the personal space that she would need to contemplate and reflect.

Do not let your fate be dictated by others.

[Fallacy]

Miro Alvadas slowly slipped away from Miro, the blood loss has been too much. The world was going back, and he could feel cold impassiveness of death embracing him. He was going to die here. Die at the hands of Drysalla, the illusionary figure who had forcefully taken control of Alvadas and the intelligence behind it. Within the walls of Alvadas could she surely be defeated? Even Miro stood no chance against her. Though it was within the throne room which a new presence made itself known. Footsteps that only Miro could hear, sounds bringing him back, making him conscious, or was it more aware of his surroundings? In the darkness of death he found a light, and heard the clacking of shoes against polished stone. The pace was a cold one, determined, it had a mission, a goal. It was a constant rhythm, at first they were soft, but they seemed to grow louder and with the noise the boy found himself more and more aware. Though he was still in this darkness, for it was all he say. In this darkness he felt no pain, but instead cold. Soothing cold. ”Miro.” A voice called out to him. It was a soft sound, almost a whisper. ”Miro.” The voice called again for his attention, getting no louder but it had a determination to it. ”Miro.” The voice sounded sad, but slowly the background noise of the shoes walking faded, and what replaced it was a face. A face appeared out of the darkness, looking at Miro in this void of his. It was the face of a child, dark tears of blood ran down it face. He looked sad, “Miro.” he said again, ”You are dying.” More than ever the figure slowly faded into sight. He was shorter than the dying boy, his hair combed back nicely and he wore a dark suit which was off-putting for one of his seeming age. ”You still have so much to do.” he said, his voice keeping the same sad pace, he talked unhurriedly, ”Yet you are dying.” he said again, ”You will die.” he told him, ”But I can save you. You haven’t come so far to only lay down and give up. There is so much more to discover in this world, magic in particular.” ”I can save you, but I need your permission. I need to know that you want to be saved, to live longer, to be immortal. I can not only save you, but make you better.” he said, looking down at the boy, ”In every way.” he said, ”And you can obtain as much power as you can take… Just give me a sign of recognition.” It was none other than Uldr himself. Eridanus Absorbed in her own pity and despair she was shocked when she felt the dagger leave her hands, forced out by the man who was her enemy. Was he? She felt herself questioning even that as tears streamed down her face and her sadness intensified, magnifying the aura around her to impressive extents. Normal men would have succumbed to such the dark, deep sorrow, but Eridanus stood there and embraced her. She felt his warmth, and cried even more. This time it seemed uncontrollable as she just let all her emotions flow out of her. Finally she hugged him back, not weakly, but firmly, her fingers grasping onto and digging into back as she clung to him. Muffled sobs of grief, anguish, even happiness could be heard as she buried her head into his shoulder. This entire experience was emotionally taxing for the hypnotist, and it moved her beyond what she was already feeling. She felt understood, secure, and that made her reluctant to let go. Her aura flaring up with pure expressions of her own emotions, now not clouding the area, but instead focusing entirely on Eridanus as he held her. She knew that he understood, and she could understand him. She felt the comfort, the hope, and even the strength, and she let it in. She invited it in, as she released upon the poor man all her negative and unwanted feelings. He was her pillar right now, and she trusted him to stand tall, to weather this, for if he crumbled she knew that she would too. Eridanus would be swept up in a torrent of emotion whipping up and down and side to side as he felt the sadness leave her, the anger leave her, the loneliness leave her, the self-pity leave her, the hate leave her, the evil leave her. Slowly, as if waking up, he would feel a stirring inside him, the warmth of the emotion of joy, the sincerity of love, the pureness of hope, and the safety of compassion. All of these complex things communicated through body language alone, and even without the great power of the hypnotist people could still feel each other and they could still be acutely aware of needs of others, the need for contact, and a caring face. Everyone needs to feel love, and if everyone did perhaps the world itself would change. The last of her tears falling, the embrace still held. She had given herself completely, emotionally, to the man. Her own grasp loosening as she came to terms with her own thoughts, and when he pulled away she let them part and wiped her eyes. They still looked big, and were swollen from the crying, reddish, ”You cannot fight Drysalla.” she blurted out, her voice shaky. She was still recovering, in fact her voice wasn’t all that was shaking, ”She is too strong.” she told him, ”She controls Alvadas.” she said trying to get him to understand that there was, in fact, a difference between Ionu’s will and Alvadas’. ”Please,” she said, ”I don’t want any more bloodshed. It’s best if we all just leave.” she sniffed. Even with all her abilities she did not want to cross Drysalla. Silence. It looked as if she were mulling over her own thoughts, ”At least, you can’t fight her alone.” she said, as if she were hinting at something. Though it was right then another voice chimed in behind them, ”She’s right.” it called out, belonging to none other than Alluvia. The Triad member walked up to them, giving a weary look to Verlyna. In Alluvias hand she still possessed the mirror. She carried and wielded it like a great scepter or a sword, ”Shall we go Eridanus?” she asked, not waiting for him to respond or even move before she started to walk past him. It was almost like she was possessed, as her steps looked as if she knew where to go… More Silencers came, the illusionary versions of the warriors blocking their path, but with a hand and a nod from Verlyna they stood down and let Alluvia pass.

[Miro]

Miro still lived, but only felt pain, surrounded and struck by illusion in a physical form. He had almost found peace in his destiny to die, though still ached with the curiosity to continue on. All of the people of the city, he could not let them slip away. But he was dying and could sense death coming ever closer.

Her footsteps? A sound so faint, yet so clear, it echoed in his ears. As he listened, nothing but this sound could be heard, slowly growing louder. As it came closer, the Reimancer's mind came to grow more aware. He hazily opened his eyes, only seeing darkness. The cold soothing hands of death were upon him, calming his pain and giving him comfort. Dira's voice whispered his name, ever so softly. Yet something was so off about it. Still nothing but darkness. The footsteps resounded loudly and the voice rang out again, but this was not Dira, it couldn't be. It sounded as if the person aimed to wake them, a determined snap to bring him from his death slumber.

This mystery person spoke his name once again, this time uninterrupted by walking. They sounded upset and concerned for him. Slowly from the black world around him he peered in and made his face visible. Miro was taken with shock, so startled by the face. The red streaks down his face, it was as if he was crying for Miro. Once more this man spoke the dying wizard's name, telling him he was still dying. The figure emerged from the darkness, his form revealed as that of a child. A sudden chill struck him as he observed the odd and frightening appearance. Yet he came to the dying wizard in his time of need, caring for his fate. A mix of fear and relief settled in his mind. Whoever this figure was, they wished to see him live.

The way this childlike man knew such intimate things about the wizard was both startling and reassuring. It seemed Lhex did have something more in store for him, and his soul had not failed the test of life. He could be saved, be immortal, better in every way. The chance to take power, if only Miro would accept his offer. Given the chance to live, to take the power to change things, he would accept. He did not know this figure, but his new patron spoke as if he was a god.

The Reimancer smirked to himself, only needing to give a sign of recognition. He lifted his head to nod to the man using all of his strength. He attempted to push air from his lungs to speak, but found it too difficult. Instead he mouthing the word 'yes', wishing to make his will to accept more than clear. It was however unclear what he was accepting, but it mattered little when his remaining option was death. Alvadas still needed to be saved.

[Fallacy]

Miro The child smiled, and the smile was even more unsettling than the appearance. It was as if he was basking in triumph, as if he had won a game only he was let on to. The weak movements of Miro made the god delighted, and the reimancer would feel a slight pressure on his chest. Uldr had got his sign of acceptance, and now it was time for him to work his magic, for him to keep his part of the deal. The boy won’t die, no, that would be a waste of raw talent. Instead the boy will serve him as a Chained One. ”Then you shall not die if that is what you wish.” Miro could feel a change, a change erupting inside him. He would feel a lightness as the darkness in his mind seemed to spin, like clouds forming a cyclone. He would feel disoriented and distorted, and then… nothing at all. It was like time had stopped and nothing was happening. He couldn’t even feel the gods touch anymore. His body had been completely broken down, destroyed at the most fundamental of levels, and now all which was remaining was the soul bound to this plane by Uldr power. Now Miro couldn’t see anything, not even the shadows of his mind, but slowly he started to feel this heavy feeling, like a weight pulling him down more and more. He felt sturdy, solid, the pain which once accompanied him was gone. It was replaced by a feeling of superiority, thoughts of death erased by those of power. A silent nagging consumed his mind as it was wrought into place- to seek power, especially the power which holds over people. Dominance, it was the urge to make everyone know just how good he was compared to them. Be it with Miza, pure talent, or by magical means he would seize power, especially when it could give him supremacy over his peers. Miro would find himself feeling… taller, if only slightly. The body he was in now was at an even six foot. Uldr had kept the fairer skin shade and athletically toned body. Raven black hair would hang longer than he would remember it being, growing from his shoulders which were his old body, to barely touching the shoulder blades on his back. His eyes were a muted grey, once having the ability to turn any color based one emotion, now silenced with his rebirth. The grey possessed a hint of red too, a splash here and there, one for each eye. The red a marker of what he had become unwittingly. The fangs of which he once possessed were now elongated, exaggerated, more menacing looking than before. His face was more angular and defined. The look of youth smote from him in place of something more mature. His body, freed from the spikes which had pinned him down, did not escape the scars which were brought on by his brutal ‘death’. Each place there had been driven a spike, there was a scar representing it, reminding him of exactly what kind of fate the God had saved him from. A reminder of the pain he felt, of the cold embrace of death itself, only to be snatched from the edge by this child-like god. Miro would find that his body had a lightness which his other one could not possibly possess. It was an inhuman sort of freedom he found, one that told him already just how better he was than everyone else. His limbs would move with grace unfounded in both the mortal and animal kingdoms. His reflexes were sharper, faster than any average human by far. He could take in and respond to the world with precision and accuracy if he cared to train himself and foster this newfound power. Clothed in a dark robe, tailored to fit his new form, he found himself adequately dressed in simpler clothes. Underneath the robe was a white shirt of wool, and tanned leather breeches. His feet were bare, as were his hands, and if he would look at them he could see he still possessed his claw-like fingernails if not but a tad longer… and sharper than before. They would hold a natural edge, and grow back just like he sees them if they ever get cut for it was not a mortals place to defy the design of a god. Overall he would have the slick appearance of death. His skin would look dry, and gaunt, but have no sign of decay upon him. ”Miro.” the soft voice addressed him. The Wizard would find himself standing at the entrance of the throne room standing beside the child-god. ”I will call upon you when a time arises I need your help.” he said, turning at the sound of footsteps, and there he saw Alluvia walking towards the both of them. Though in a blink of an eye he was gone, leaving those who saw him to wonder if he was really there in the first place. What Miro would see looking into the throne room was quite a sight, there was Alluvia battling it out with Drysalla, both of them using their command of illusionism to do battle. Though if Miro would turn at the sound of footsteps, he would see Alluvia walking towards them as well, Mirror in hand. There were two Alluvias? Miro : Congratulations. You are now Undead and marked by Uldr. You are a Type II undead, and your craving is both power and domination, as one feeds into the other. You have inhuman reflexes/dexterity as a part of your new body. Your craving –can- be resisted with some effort at this level. If you need or want any information feel free to PM me. Feel free to post again. Important note- The higher your leeching goes, the slower your regenerative abilities as a Type II undead are Eridanus : I didn’t include you in this post because you haven’t posted yet. I didn’t want to assume anything, so I just said that Alluvia was walking towards the throne room. Feel free, if you do follow Alluvia, to see what she sees.

[Miro]

A pressure built on Miro's chest as his patron acknowledged their deal. It continued to gather, seeming to cave him in and break him apart from the inside. The boy's mind faded away, wiped clear due to the transformation. Even the illusions of darkness contorted and broke around him. The world dissolved as his body was unraveled. For him there was nothing in this time, existing only as a soul. But then slowly he felt his physical form and conscious mind returning. His body felt stronger, his mind, sharper, and he knew just how powerful he had become. All of those around him would see him rise, chosen to be the great savior, finally capable of defeating any foe.

Miro stood in his new form looking it over for a moment. It was as if he was advanced to his prime, donning new clothing too. His claws and fangs felt longer and more wicked too. Each of his movements flowed with new ease and precision, a passive grace that proved his superiority. His new body held a stronger potential, but there was more. The Reimancer was not breathing, for he had no need to. His heart, as he sensed the Djed Flux within it, was completely still. His body was dead, though he was more powerful than ever. The gift of unlife was one he was familiar with. Nuit and their creation through Animation, the ritual of Daek-nuit. The patron god of the undead was none other than Uldr.

The divine voice addressed him once again, as the two of them stood at the fore of the throne room. In the future Miro would have to serve his debt to the god, but for now it seemed he was free to serve his own cause. Now able to take Alvadas back, he saw Alluvia fighting Drysalla. Another illusion fight he was now caught in the middle of. Turning back at the sound of footsteps he noticed Uldr gone. The noise was that of Alluvia and her company coming from the hallway to reinforce them. Somehow there were two of her, an interesting ability she seemed to possess. Sensing battle was near, he began to produce a steady flow of Res from his back to begin to cloak his body.

The Chained One grinned, overjoyed by his new power. This clarity in his mind, it spoke words more tantalizing than sweet whispers. All would know of his power, his authority. This time he would save Alluvia, and show everybody how powerful he had grown. The tricks of illusion and Ionu would always leave you guessing until the last moment though. The hallway group came to join Miro and the other Alluvia in the throne room. The horned man was alive and in her company. It was somewhat of a relief to see he had done his part. The wizard was happy he was not the only one pushing to save the city, and approached the man casually.

"Well, I see I am not the only one out here doing some actual work. I can not explain the two Alluvias, but I can warn you of how they will fight. An Illusionist fights with trickery and deception. Anything their mind can produce becomes real. Of course you may find yourself falling under the spell of deception as well. I can not say with certainty if either Alluvia is in fact real, though I do not doubt your reality. I don't expect her to deceive me by producing you as an illusion."

The Undead's smile revealed his new sharper fangs, and the chuckle that followed flashed his black tongue. All in the room would soon be forced to recognize him for his glorious talents and increased capabilities. He felt a deep longing to enforce command and assert dominance over the room, despite knowing how things would end if one were careless. His deep rooted urges kept pushing him to show off, bring the room to its knees. They could not understand the pain of death like he could. They did not realize how weak they were. He was now immortal, and the most capable hero there was to save Alvadas.

Miro focused on the Ethaefal, tuning his Hypnotist's influence to gently stroke his target's aura. He centered himself to push an emotional response of obedience onto the man, using his voice as the medium to press the effect onto his mind. He began to flow Djed to build in his throat and echo from his mouth. "I am...of course ready to end things now. My power and skill make me capable of inflicting a great deal of damage...without even lifting a finger. While...I am sure, you are more the hands on type yourself." The wizard inched closer to his chosen ally and aimed to place a hand on his shoulder.

Again the Chained One focused on his hypnotic power, this time dealing a suggestion. He continued to use his vocal cords as a medium for his magic. "We would work well together, don't you think?" He released the flow Djed. "If you move to strike her, I will cover you with my Reimancy. Alluvia can provide a great deal of support, but we are the best weapons Alvadas has. Together not even this hyped illusionary queen can not stand to defeat us." He was brimming with confidence, knowing that the odds of victory had finally tipped in their favor. With this horned warrior and powerful Illusionist, the Chained One could not lose.

The Reimancer aimed his arms forward and willed his amassed Res forth, aiming it at Drysalla. The substance that had been gathering under his robe shot from his sleeves in two long snaking arcs. As they came near to strike, his face grew grim with focus. "Talrin," he shouted, the incantation to transmute lightning, and directed the bolts to snap and strike her face. The electric element burst in an instant, blasting their target. She convulsed for a moment and severe burns scarred her face. Within moments however, the marks faded and she continued on, as if she had never been hit. It seemed that Miro was not the only immortal. And restoring Alvadas after her defeat was its own puzzle.

"Well, it looks like we can not defeat her with raw force, but there is another way we can win." The wizard's newly improved mind knew just what needed to be done. "Alluvia, I have been thinking for a while now on the perfect way to defeat her. We need to wish on the mirror. It granted this power, and I fear it is the only way to defeat it." Miro once again flowed Res under his robe, ready to defend everyone and display his power again. The mirror, it could grant such power, as much as he could take. Yes, taking was the right answer. Uldr had given them the solution they needed all along.

If one were to take Drysalla's power, they too would be immortal, able to control Alvadas and change its form. The Alluvias would be the best bet to handle the power of illusion and restore the city. But if Miro took it, he could make his own kingdom, and he would have of all the power. None would deny his power, and he would dominate all in his domain. He had the perfect wish, but the fond memories of the city still nagged at his heart. His mind was torn trying to sort his old mind from his new superior one. It was obvious power was best, yet he remembered Yasminy and his lesson, all the love and wonder in Alvadas.

"Alluvia, I have the perfect wish. If you take all of Drysalla's power, we will be able to defeat her and even to recreate Alvadas with what took it away." A curious thought bloomed in his mind, envious of her ability to split her form into two parts. "By the way, how did you manage to form two of you?"