She whirled, withdrawing the oredite knife from the base of her ankles. Swiftly. Even with this exaggeration of a dress, a Highness must always surely come prepared.
What about Argon?
Ah, don't think about it.
Incompetency should never have found its way into that man.
She dashed towards him—towards the silver-haired male and that fissured visage of his. He stood. What? No motion, not even the jerking of reflexive actions. Nothing. Her blade went through, sinking into his gut, plunging out from the bare back. Vain. And there she was, blade in hand, watching the metal pierce through flesh and bones. Yet instead of those, it retreated with nothing.
Strange, she stared, given Oredite somewhat had attributes of trapping symbols.
That revealed a dreadful fact.
He is a powerful Caster!
A truly formidable monster!
A hand connected to the side of her face. A violent shake that tossed her into the air, rolling across the hardened earth. Oh, the insult.
She gritted, a spread of warmth welling up into her head. That helped, at least. Helped in the removal of the weakening thoughts. Whether he was Kabal or not—he was not, she had to save the Highness of Valor. Even with the truth of her ascendancy based on whether he lived or died, she would undeniably prefer him as a truly living creature.
And for that, she leveled the blade on her elbow, that technique taught by the ladyCaptain of the seatGuards: Nail of Valor.
Where was she?
Oddly, for once, Ivory desired the immediate presence of that woman. Mist it all, her eyes drifted to the roaring flames of the structure.
Likely Casters from Stone bastion should already be coming here. Such a spectacle is hardly subtle in nature. Which means… Her eyes drifted to the splintered figure. He should be in a rush to escape.
Mentation spun. 'And he kept Argon alive. That means that was never his plan? What was it then?
She perked.
Is that why he looks like Kabal? The thought flooded in. Perhaps some attempt to pin whatever blame on that simple, foolish man?
Who would?
A breath flowed into her lungs, warm.
Any number of Houses, Clans, or even the church might use it as a means to discredit or push fault to Valor.
That cannot be allowed to happen. Never.
I need to reveal who he is. Ivory took in that vague awareness of the blademaster, the one imprinted deeply by the Nail of Valor. Of course, there was always the Emerlt fitted in her palm, skin-shaped. But that, that she sensed would draw even more rumors towards the newly appointed highHeir.
She scooped the series of chaotic men—dashing about, aflame by the fury.
No, I need to stall.
The man smiled. "You are no longer asking me who I am?" Was that sadness?
Her brows knitted. "What point is there?" She said. "You will only lie."
He chuckled. "And the greatest lie is the one told by the self."
That struck within cogitation, memories, and inputation, churning and processing.
No no no… Don't think about it.
"Exactly what I expected." Ivory.
He sighed, shoulders shrugging. "It's really sad, Princess. Even after taking you outside of the Looming, to see the beauty of your clan, you still don't recognize me."
Ivory gritted. He could have learned that in any number of ways. Who knows how long he's been planning whatever this is? An internal nod. Yes, yes, this is all a part of the plan.
His head tilted, the stranger. "Well, this is getting boring," he said. "As expected with the sudden drop in intensity."
Her grip tightened on the blade.
He must have a weakness. I just need to find it.
He eyed her. "Please don't go doing all that," he uttered. "You know how it ends."
"I know that you die today."
"Is that so?" He leaned. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"
What?
A voice stammered into her awareness, a hard rasping of tones, fitted vaguely with that layer of familiarity.
Argon?
He was pained, hard lines of veins popping across his taut face. What did he do to him?
He was speaking, lips moving in trembling bursts.
What was it?
"Ru—"
Save your strength, mist it. Ivory piqued. Please don't waste it in bootless words.
Yet he was unyielding. "Ru—"
What was he saying?
Was it useful?
Something moved in the conflagration of redness, a shadow that drew out from the crimson. Argon reared both arms, waving, mouthing. "Ru—"
Is someone in there?
"Ru—"
Is it Kabal?
A booming voice surged out from the blaze. Male, questioning. "Is it not done yet?"
Argon screamed now. "RUN AWAY!" Tears dripped down his face. "RUN AWAY NOW!"
Run away?
Too late.
A figure stepped out from the flame, unscathed. A man, tall, slender, dressed in a tight black suit, hair a messy spike of darkened mass, with a strand of white falling out by the side of the head. He wore glasses. Round, crystal white lenses that rebounded the lights of the world. The burning redness, the black expanse of land. All of it was reflected off those glasses.
He stood, stoic, flanked by two other persons. A shorter woman, more of a child. What? Hair draping, covering her arms and tiny legs as though they were a garment: that and the black strands with not a hint of a particular whiteness.
darkCrown?
The other, now that one was clad in a bulky armor meters high above the other two. Black with segments like separated plates. Some of which rippled like that of Elitum. That, and the large arms and metallic legs.
What kind of monster rode around in that?
His face was confined within a lined slit helm, glassy. He said nothing.
"Answer me." The one in round glasses said, poking at the center of the specs. "You should have infected him by now."
The stranger laughed. "There was a little creature that distracted me for a moment." He skimmed her. "But I think nothing would be able to break this delusion of hers."
Is Kabal still inside there?
The intruder rounded her, passing towards the weakened, rather pathetic Highness. The man waving and mouthing moronic words. Run Run Run… Is he stupid? Does he not see how impossible that is?
Ivory was locked on the spectacles-wearing male. Something about him evoked an intense sense of danger. Run Run Run. What was it? A breath shuddered out of her lungs.
How did so many of them get into Valor? she thought. Is Cintra not as safe as believed?
That could pose a dangerous outcome.
Think.
She glanced at the flames.
Kabal…
Think.
The flames called to her.
"Save me!"
She heard a voice, a smile beaming across her face.
Kabal!
He's alive.
He's safe. I knew it. I knew it. He's alive. A quake rocked her body, her mind spinning. There was no way this stranger was him.
Memories flowed out from the house long past. The moments of his skin against hers, merging within the depths of the now aflame structure.
HE STILL LIVED!
She turned to the voice. And found there. Only the stranger.
What?
He laughed, his back bending, trembling as fluid seeped out from his eyes. Hysterical.
What?
"Look at her!" He said, his voice clear, warm, evoking that deep recollection of the sweeter past.
Kabal?
He chortled, his arm slapping on the face of his lap. "Such a fool, I cannot believe she fell for that!"
No!
Something shattered within the depths of her wholeness. All of it, the figures, the flames, the screaming. All of it faded into the blackness of nothing.
________
A voice whispered from a distance….Flowing into the darkness.
"Drive the dagger in…"
Dagger?
Ivory was a vortex of thoughts.
"Would it work?" A childish tone.
One responded, powerful. "It should. I doubt such a weak Caster would be able to survive the crimson rot, especially one obtained from the depths of Mordrask's coffin."
Mordrask? That word brought a nullness within mentation. No ideation spewed from the phrase whatsoever. Not that it mattered either. Nothing did. Only her. Floating above in this world of inputations, of endless stimuli tiding into a singular awareness. Too much, but she could not stop it. Like a wave, it came crashing, memories, ones believed to have been lost, screened with a certain unnerving freshness.
The external voices continued. "I suppose this can be considered a success in the given tasks."
"Yes, yes, you did good, Heid." That was a child.
"Welcome then, to the pained martyr sect…"
"Wonderful." The stranger said, "I was losing my mind with having to play that character…Rather exhausting."
Mmmm…Ivory retreated.
Now.
She existed in a chamber, above her was a black, glossy ceiling. Interesting. She was swinging, a joyous laughter spreading through the unusually large space. Why was it so big? A hand cradled the back of her head, softly.
"Can I have her?" A rather warm voice. Who?
"She is your daughter." That one she knew—a smooth contralto.
"Yes, yes, of course." She hovered up, a hand pressing around her arm and back. Something was holding her. What could? A giant?
Might be..
Just then, a face loomed close to hers. A GIANT? No. It was a man. A dark-haired man with more strands of white than she had ever seen. Square-jawed with piercing black eyes. Handsome. He smiled at her, leaned close, lips drawing atop the points of her forehead.
He kissed her.