Sol's attacks were fast and almost invisible to the naked eye. Yet Wanwan's speed and reflexes had increased drastically through this battle as well. Except for one or two light slashes, Wanwan was relatively unscathed.
Sol screamed once again, the same scream that burned the snow and the Longrasses away. Wanwan reflexively jumped backward multiple times to make sure he would not get caught in the heatwave. The scream created almost a dome of heat around Sol's body for a split second before dissipating, opening a path for Wanwan to dash inside and slam into Sol's ribs with a massive headbutt.
CRACK!!
Sol's breath was forcefully driven from his lungs by that one attack. He was knocked back a couple of dozen meters but managed to regain his stability before hitting the mountain. He was about to claw his own arm to let more bloodflame out when a massive sound was heard from above him.
A line-shaped crack, perhaps a hundred meters long, formed right above him.
He could not believe what he saw. Even in the middle of his hunger and his uncontrolled Instinctive Rage, he still had to process what he was seeing.
It was truly a feat that could only be heard in the stories and legends Naama and the elders told the younglings.
And to top it all off, a piece of the mountain was cracked, lifted, and lodged inside the hole.
He stood there, processing.
Wanwan took this as a huge opening, set himself right behind Sol, flared the white-bluish aura in his chest, and jumped before diving diagonally towards Sol's position, landing with a huge blue-white flamed explosion that froze everything outward along with his howl.
—
The Old Chief landed near Nia and the Four Pups, still focused, waiting to see whether what he did would be enough to contain the landslide.
The earth rumbled. The platform vibrated over and over from the impact of dozens, if not hundreds, of boulders landing upon it.
A crack formed. Reflexively, the Old Chief prepared himself to grab the girl and move away, closer towards the river. But he waited.
More vibrations. The crack widened.
The sound of rumbling slowed, then ground to a halt not long after.
Nia and the Four Pups could only watch in awe as he brushed both hands together, then dusted his chest and thighs.
"That..." Nia looked at him with her mouth agape. "That was amazing! Grandpa!!"
"Stone yields easily to one who has spent a lifetime listening to it, little one." The Old Chief moved his gaze towards Wanwan and Sol's battle, still raging a ways away from them. "Save your awe for your companion. His battle with the boy would humble even my younger self."
The blue-flamed explosion from Wanwan's diagonal dive died down, leaving behind jagged fangs of ice jutting from the ground atop a mound of snow, freezing everything in a wide radius, including the Longrass that had been scorched by Sol's red and black flame veil.
Sol's flame died down for a heartbeat before the red and black veil flared again from inside him, along with a scream. He was weakened.
"I... didn't know that Wanwan could do that."
"Woof!!" Hrida was excited by her brother's display of power.
"Bark!! Bark!!" Skafl was a bit jealous, it seemed.
"GRRRRR!!!" Drifa told every pup to focus. Sol was still standing.
"WAUWAUWAU!!" Fonn said that everything was going to be all right. They were all together now.
The Four Pups dashed towards the still raging battle between Wanwan and Sol.
Nia looked towards the Old Chief with eyes full of expectation. "Will we... will we be able to save Sol? Will we have to hurt him more than this? Incapacitate him?"
"He walks a path no hand can pull him from, little one." The Old Chief ruffled her hair and walked forward, closer towards the two warriors' arena. "His hunger is a blade on the whetstone. It will either shatter, or sharpen."
The Old Chief smiled and continued. "When the whetstone is done with him, you will see how brightly he can cut through the dark."
Nia swallowed. She no longer had the capacity to heal. She did not know whether she would be able to contribute more to this fight than what she already had. She bit her lower lip, hard. She was disappointed in how weak she was.
She could feel the dagger the Mother Archivist had given her, floating in the depths of her memories...
She just had to call upon it and perhaps, using it, she would be able to help Sol.
But she could not. Not now.
Should I use it? Should I...? ...Mother?
—
—
The dagger floated right in front of Nia's eyes. The Mother Archivist's gaze was full of expectation, waiting for her to take the dagger.
"But why...? Mother Archivist?" Nia's voice was full of confusion.
The Mother Archivist stayed silent, her eyes sharp, the dagger still spinning in the air right in front of her. She inhaled and slowly exhaled the air from her old lungs; a short, stinging sensation in her chest tried to make her cough, but she held it. She would not show her condition now, not in front of Nia.
"Have you seen them with your own eyes? The Demons of Gehenna?" Her coarse voice broke the silence suddenly.
Nia looked at her and shook her head slowly.
"Have you seen the Gleaming Ones? The Winged Ones who hailed from the Gardens of Ferdeios?"
"I... have not, Mother Archivist."
The Mother Archivist gripped her chest tightly. The pain grew worse sometimes, but today was one of the days where it was unbearable. Yet she still had not shown any of it to her young priestess.
"Have you seen us?" She continued. "Have you seen us, Nia, as we are, not as the Lumen pretends we could be, with our small hearts, our quickly panicked minds, and our innate talent for turning ignorance into hatred?"
"I..." Nia hesitated. She was wrestling with doubt. She did not know which answer was correct or which answer was wrong. But she knew that she would have to answer. "...I have, Mother Archivist."
The old woman wiped her mouth using her handkerchief, making sure that the blood stayed hidden from the young priestess' eyes. "This blame lies with us, Nia. Not the Demons, not the Gleaming Ones. It was our smallness that sharpened their hatred into war."
The Mother Archivist continued. "We have just seen them for the very first time, and the destruction they wrought is comparable to the worst disasters this world has ever seen." She took a labored breath once more and stood up. She walked towards Nia's spot and lifted the girl's chin. Her murky brown eyes met Nia's emerald eyes. "None of this can be stopped by anyone, or anything. Except for him."
"The Unifier?" Nia answered.
"...The Unifier. Ignis Medius Trium. The Median, whose fire is neither of Gehenna alone, nor of Earth, nor of Ferdeios, but of all three intertwined." The Mother Archivist's hands were cold; sweat started to bead on her forehead. Nia could see this clearly, and she wished that she could do something, anything. Unfortunately, no manner of restoration, even from Lumen Octavum, could defeat old age. "Et cum flamma ista manifestabitur, dissolventur nodi inter Caelum, Terram, et Gehennam."
"...And when that flame is revealed, the knots between Heaven, Earth, and Gehenna will come undone." Nia responded quickly. She was always good at remembering passages from Lumen Octavum.
The Mother Archivist smiled at her, and continued. "He will be the only one who is able to resist the Tyranny of Ferdeios. You will stand beside him as the Key. Thus, I implore you, my daughter." Her old, wrinkled hand grabbed Nia's and guided the ornate dagger into it before closing Nia's fingers tightly around the hilt.
"Promise me. If his light curdles into tyranny, if his fire turns from shield to scourge, you must remember this moment, and you must act..." Nia looked into the Mother Archivist's eyes intently. She knew that her pain was unbearable. Nia stood up and hugged the Mother Archivist, knowing that she would fall soon. "...Even if it means that your hand must deliver the wound, and pierce his heart before the world burns with him."
—
—
"Huh...?" Sol looked around, the suddenness with which things had changed startling him. "...Where did the room go?"
The air had changed; there was no longer the dull heat that had emanated from the stagnant flames, nor the faint scent of smoke. Everything felt sterile.
Sol looked below him. In the dim light, he could see that he was standing on a well-made floor. He had never seen this type of flooring before. It felt strange; the floor was cold and hard, and there was a beautiful white and golden pattern to it.
From above him, slowly, a stream of light fell from a crack in the darkness, shining upon a rectangular table between the two different chairs.
Sol observed the beautiful throne across from him. Right now, in this vast emptiness, there was only him, the two chairs, and a small rectangular, well-polished, vein-patterned table made from a material he had never seen before.
He blinked and opened his eyes.
Someone was already sitting right across from him, on the throne. His face was obscured by the pure white hood he was wearing. The light from above cast a dark shadow upon his visage. His gauntleted left hand was open, index finger and thumb resting on his left temple and chin, still obscured by shade. His right foot was propped up on the chair, ignoring manners altogether. Sol could see that this person's feet were also well protected with greaves made from a beautiful metal, not unlike gold.
His attire, a pure white robe and cloak adorned with gleaming golden linings and some black patterns, made Sol remember who this person was. The last time he had seen him was the moment when he unfurled his two massive light-like golden wings before pointing the sword of light at Sol's face.
Those same wings were nowhere to be found. Perhaps he had hidden them; perhaps he had lost them. The sword of light also could not be seen.
Sol could not help but feel very vigilant.
"Sit, kid. You are making the furniture nervous."
It was the owner of the voice. The one who sat right in front of him now was also the one who had accompanied him inside the flames of the burning house.
Sol did not respond, but he moved towards the chair and sat.
"...What do you want with me? Where is this?" Sol did not even wait before bombarding him with questions. "Who are you?"
"Do you know how many times I have yelled into your skull? This is the first time you answered." The man sighed, removed his right foot from the throne, and sat attentively across from Sol. "Thousands of tries, and this is the one that sticks. Must be the girl."
Sol could not see his face, but he knew that this person was currently looking straight into his eyes. "It's nice to finally meet you, incarnate."
—
—
The stars were shining bright above rows upon rows of the Daughters of the Eighth Light. The Firmamemoria had already been recited. The Mother Archivist's urn had been lowered into the ground, right next to her mentor's urn, the previous Mother Archivist, and generations upon generations of the Highest Priestesses of her Order.
"...If you are certain, daughter, with all your life, that there is no trace of evil in him..."
The ground was closed. The Custodians, Witnesses, and Librarians turned their backs on her and went back inside Aeneia's grounds. Small drops of water started to pour from the sky.
"...If you are sure, daughter, that there's no shred of darkness within his heart..."
Here, upon this sanctified resting ground of all High Priestesses of the Great Library, Nia crouched. The rain washed over the dirt. Nia touched the stone with a gentle swipe, cleansing the headstone's name.
Her knees gave out.
"...Call upon the dagger's power. Draw your blood, your being, your memoria to protect him, and..."
Hic iacet
Mater Archivista
Mayena Artemievna
Quae memoriam mundi tenuit
Et veritatem non dimisit
Sub Octava Luce servivit
Donec nomen eius factum est liber
In pace
"...Stand by his side. No matter what happens. Do not go astray."
And for the first time in her life, she cried her heart out. She pressed her hand to her mouth and bit down, gasping for control.
It did not work.
She let everything go and surrendered to her grief.
"For the world will stand against the both of you."
Her cries of sorrow were drowned by the sound of the pouring rain.
—
—
The red and black veil of flame around Sol's body could be seen expanding. It almost consumed every inch of him. No longer could Nia see the detail of his bandages or his body; everything blended into red and black tongues of shadow that burned from him.
His body was smaller than what it should have been. Compressed, hunched, pulled inward like something that was unfinished.
Now, only the golden shine of his eyes could be seen in the middle of the blazing shadow surrounding him, wide, unblinking, feral.
Sol lowered his body and started to move sideways around Wanwan on all fours. His stance was predatory, hungry, ready to pounce, but unsteady.
Until there was a straight line from him to Nia.
Like a shadow he moved, very fast, very powerful, very irregular. He passed the Four Pups that were already on their way there, ignoring them completely.
To Wanwan's eyes, he was nothing but ripples and distortions, like disturbances on the surface of a lake when someone threw a pebble in, and the waves were broken again by the lake's walls. Sol walked for three steps, then short-dashed on the fourth, disappeared on the fifth, and appeared again for the sixth and seventh.
The Old Chief saw this and stepped in front of Nia. The Four Pups tried to change their direction instantly and slid down a bit, but they managed to dash towards his position.
Wanwan knew this was dangerous. This version of Sol was pure hunger, pure anger.
It wanted to feed.
And it wanted to feed on Nia.