21st of Frost, 119th Age of Steel
In another time, the building that Talon approached might have been a temple. The facade was cracked but it was upheld by elaborate columns. At the top of each column was what Talon could only assume was a depiction of whatever ancient god the temple might have been devoted to. For all he knew, it was just there for decoration. Talon was not a researcher but he knew the Antiquities Society of Kalzasi spent a great deal of time exploring the ruins scattered across the First Deep. The archway that Talon passed through was easily large enough to have fit the earth elemental that he had just fought. It was a theme that he’d found in the few ruins that he’d actually taken the time to observe as opposed to just running through them. He didn’t have to wonder if there were creatures large enough to have made use of them. The evidence of such entities regularly slaughtered the unwary who delved too greedily into the shadowy depths.
Talon was not greedy but he knew what he had come for. The chamber he entered could have been the grand hall of a great cathedral. Part of him wondered if it hadn’t been in some distant past, before the civilization here had been buried. There were no pews but there was a thick layer of dirt and dust upon the floor. It muffled his footsteps. He paused as he walked further into the interior of the building. Not more than ten feet away from him there rest a skeleton propped up against one of the temple’s walls. It was blackened and charred, the remains of long rusted armor draped across its crumpled form. The skull rested, tilted up toward the ceiling as though whoever this poor sod was had been searching for a scrap of daylight in their final moments. Talon felt a moment of pity. There had been no daylight. Of that, he was certain. The skeleton was a warning and Talon would heed it. He rest his hand on the pommel of his sword, ready to strike at anything that posed a threat. Still, he needed to get a better sense of direction.
He calmed his senses and opened them to the sounds, sights and smells that he would not otherwise normally be able to take in. The aura of the world around him was thick with the remnants of many emotions. Talon wasn’t surprised. He was undoubtedly not the first explorer to make his way through these dark ruins. He ignored the things that did not stand out to him as abnormal. Unease was expected within the Warrens. Their reputation for being a place of danger was well earned. The people of Kalzasi and across the Free Cities knew them as a place to enter only when prepared.
Talon knew he couldn’t face everything within the Warrens. Not by himself. But he had grown up around them. He had been made a man by them. He could at least face the things waiting for him in the upper reaches and if he was pushing the limits of his skills, he could delve deeper. He hoped that he would not have to. That hope seemed to be rewarded as a distinct smell drifted across his aetheric senses. It was faint but it was there. He tacked on to that scent sifting through the layers of information that clung to the aura of the air until he found it more distinctly. He was forced to focus. Narrowing his eyes, Talon zeroed in on the thinnest wisp of its trace. He looked up to the corridor where he could see the line of aether where it flowed. Vaguely he could make out the shape of stairs. He released his hold on his Semblance. He had his heading.
“Of course.” He resisted the urge to sigh. Drawing his sword, Talon brought out the illumite dragonshard that he’d brought with him. He raised it high so that its light could banish the darkness though he had to wonder if that was such a good idea. He made his way down the steps carefully. The ruins of the First Deep weren’t known to be trapped as far as Talon was aware but he wasn’t going to take any chances. While the staircase was wide enough to fit two grown Avialae side-by-side without difficulty, Talon still felt cramped. He supposed it was the idea that he was going further into the depths of the Warrens, even if it was just into the lower levels of a single building. It didn’t matter. One minute he could be in the lower halls of an abandoned temple and the next he could find himself spit out into the fungal forests of the Otherwilds in the Second Deep.
If that happened, Talon would immediately high tail it out of the Warrens. He was prepared for many things but going into one of the deeper layers of them was not one. As he walked, Talon felt the air grow warmer, strange but he would take it. It was better than freezing to death. Turning around a bend in the staircase, Talon came to a halt. Littering the stairs were the charred remains of what looked to be armored soldiers. Blacked and cracked, the armor on their skeletons scorched or partially melted. Talon gripped his sword tightly. He swallowed and continued walking, being careful not to disturb any of the skeletons that he passed. Talon didn’t wonder what had killed those strewn about on the stairs. He had a fairly good idea of what it could have been.
Would that be him? Shouldn’t he turn around right then?
No. He was stronger than they were. He had powers they likely didn’t have at their disposal. Besides, this would be worth it. Wouldn’t it? Why was he down in the depths of the earth anyways? Was it to prove himself? Who was he proving himself to? He was the son and heir to Savien Novalys, a prince in all but name. Seeing the corpses littered about the stairs, fallen fools lacking in what it took to survive, he would not become one of them. They lacked the fire it took to push forward.
Talon continued onward. The air was growing warmer. He could feel the sweat beginning to bead on his brow. Not but mere moments ago it had been cool, almost chilly, not that Avialae ever truly felt the bite of the cold. Still, it had been comfortable. Now the air almost felt stifling. Still he pressed on. But for what? Was any of this worth it? Was this hardship worth the danger that he was throwing himself into? As he pondered those questions, his thoughts turned to the whole reason he’d stepped into the darkness of the below.
Taelian.
Talon felt a surge of anger. His mind shifted to Riven and he was stabbed with the feeling of betrayal. The Avialae felt a fiery rage begin to build up inside of him. Had he not given everything to Riven? Talon had been the one to care for him when the boy had ruined his birthday party. Talon had been the one to fight for him to have a place in their society, when his father had threatened to cast him out. Who had been there to pull Riven out of the misery that had befallen him after his Warren March? Who had been there to bring life and light and joy back into both of their lives? Was he not worthy?
Talon gripped his sword tighter. The both of them should burn. They all needed to burn. They all needed to---
“NO!” Talon dropped his sword. He stagged and fell to his knees. He felt so hot. He fought against the rage building up inside of him. This was not him. These were not his thoughts. He did not hate Riven. Gripping his skull, Talon curled in on himself as he felt as though his whole body were about to light on fire. Gasping he struggled against the burning hate that threatened to drown out all of his thoughts.
“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Talon reached for the only thing he knew that could bring him peace. He reached for it with the desperation of a dying man. The whole while he was getting hotter. He found the threads of it. It was distant but it was there.
Riven. Talon clung to their bond and in it he found strength. He felt Riven’s worry. He felt Riven’s love for him. Because it was there. It was distant because of the space between them but it was there.
Talon screamed and shook his head violently.
“GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” Gasping he coughed, smoke poured out of his mouth, through his nostrils and even seemed to flow out of his chest. It left him drained and he coughed several more times before crumpling over. The smoke gathered a few feet in front of him before igniting with a terrifying scream of rage and agony. A fiery spirit of rage burned in front of Talon. Its mouth opened and a gout of fire erupted from it, aiming straight for Talon. He mustered up the strength to send a push of kinetic force outward to meet the fire head on. The impact of the flame meeting his telekinetic push was felt immediately and Talon’s already dwindling strength was drained that much more. The power of the fire was strong and Talon knew that this spirit of rage had drawn its strength from the anger that had been born in the Avialae himself.
He was, in many ways, fighting against the anger, the hurt, and the betrayal he had not allowed himself to feel. Those emotions had been real. They had been inside of him. But this was a dark and twisted perversion of them. Talon rolled to the side and dropped the telekinetic barrier of sorts that he’d been holding. The pillar of fire splashed onto the ground where he’d been. The Novalys heir wasted no time, he opened his senses to the aether. He had to shield his eyes from the virtual nova of aether that was the rage spirit. It seemed so powerful but if he could just find what held it together and rip it apart, he could dispel it.
Talon dropped his Semblance, meeting another gout of flame with kinetic force. This time he diverted the fire sending it in another direction. He didn’t have time to search for the wraith’s core. He had to crush it and do it fast before he lost what little strength he had left. Rising to his feet, Talon stared at the wraith and was taken aback when it looked vaguely like him. A fiery doppleganger that stared at him with pure malice and hate. It raised a hand, conjuring a blade of fire and smoke. Its eyes burned brighter before it lifted off the ground and with a shriek of rage began flying toward him. This would be his only shot.
Talon opened his senses to the aether flux. He saw the full expanse of it within the radius he could perceive it. He cast out his aether and shoved it into the flow of the wraith charging him. The ghostly apparition jerked but Talon didn’t wait. With a cry of fury, Talon grabbed the aether flow inside the wraith and he pulled in as many directions as he could. The wraith shrieked, the blade of its burning sword grazed across the armor of Talon’s shoulder before in an explosion of embers, it was dispelled.
Immediately the air went cold. Talon dropped to his knees. He felt like he was going to throw up. He was shaking. His head was pounding. The first thing he did was feel around until he found the hilt of his sword. He grasped it, his fingers wrapping around it. Talon drew the blade close. Breathless, he stumbled to his feet and picked up the illumite shard that he’d dropped at some point during the fight. Breathing through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, Talon turned. On the ground there rest a pile of ash. He nudged it with his boot. The ashes emit a faint shimmer as though glowing with embers.
Fire. Taelian was a fire mage. His blade would have to withstand intense heat.
Talon brought out a pouch. Kneeling he scooped up the ashes and deposited them into the pouch. Rising to his feet, Talon looked around. The corridor that he was in was filled with doors, most of them partially rotted but they would have to suffice. He trudged over to one of them and with blade at the ready he braced himself against it.
“Please be empty.” With a deep breath, he pushed the door and thankfully, it opened. The wood scraped against the floor and he was amazed it didn’t simply fall off the hinges. Opening the door he held the illumite shard high to reveal what he could only assume had been some sort of study. It was lined with shelves that had broken ceramic jars, whatever was in them had long since turned to dust. There was the remains of a table and a few chairs along with a broken desk. He hobbled inside, put his weight against the inside of the door until it closed then slid to the floor. Talon rest his head upon his knees for a moment. He just breathed. That was all he could manage. Breathing. Nowhere was truly safe in the Warrens but this closet would have to do. After a few minutes or maybe longer, Talon was almost certain he dozed off, he assembled what little furniture was in the room and pressed it against the door.
Talon rest against the barricade that he’d assembled. It was not comfortable. But it was comfortable enough. He closed his eyes, keeping his sword within arm’s reach and braced himself for a night of sleeping in the Warrens.
