Come what may…
A void of darkness enters the cosmos, the universe. It is formed of nothing but obscurity and darkness, the very thing of hunger itself. And when it moves, the universe trembles.
In its passing, the great void reaps and devours, and still it hungers; it feeds on anything. The stars, dimmed in its abyssal maw… as light bent away. Even the hunger of a black hole was silenced… consumed before it could consume.
It had no shape, no form, only appetite. A void that devoured not matter, but presence itself. It shakes the very essence of the universe, cloaking everything in nothing but darkness.
Come what may…
There, the cosmic entity visits a certain world, not by sight… but by something deeper: a presence.
Below, in Vashkeil, beneath an ancient tree whose roots had outlived kingdoms, an old man rested. Weathered robes still breathed in the warm, soft breeze.
The old man's eyes did not look up, but through Azageis's presence, the void stirred. The entity that crawls through the universe now pauses upon perceiving Azageis's message.
It calls, and it senses… the presence of the outside world. Azageis looks at the animals that feed on the ground, and at that moment, all of them, even insects and other things, gaze through the sky, through the cosmos, through the void that famines. Azageis, however, did not look up but felt the entity's presence; he invited a challenge, testing whether it would remain true to its nature.
Azageis spoke, not loudly, not with force. But perhaps with certainty…
"Withdraw yourself, old friend, back to where you came from."
And for the first time, the entity hesitated, not from fear. But from recognition. The hunger recoiled, retreating to where it once came, for even that which devours all things knows when it has reached something it cannot claim. Or perhaps it fears something more… something it cannot consume.
Come what may…
Far away from whence the old wizard rests. The gravity of calamity that the two had fashioned ravaged parts of the land. Forests burn, the sky turns dark, thunder echoes as lightning still spears the land.
Soldiers are on alert, adventurers spread through the kingdom, to villages, to the city. The remaining protectors are ordered to stay where the royalty resides.
At the top of the curtain wall stood two distinctive people. Facing the source of destruction, Ferish tightly gripped her golden staff.
By her side was none other than the hero's descendant, calmly guarding the priestess with confidence. Chin stood high, as Roland's eyes watched every corner, every second. Soon, Roland felt uneasy about the silence between them.
The priestess's hand reached to the sky and, from the air, created a sphere of water. Levitating in her palm, Ferish then cast it towards the sky, which vomited thunder and lightning.
Not an hour later, the harrowing sky dimmed in mere minutes. And in exchange was the cry of rainfall, extinguishing the fire that feeds through the land.
A pause of silence once again—
Clearing his throat, Roland then said—
"May I ask, Lady Ferish… what was your experience like, travelling with my grandfather Seth?"
Ferish looked up, then down, towards the dense town, which was gradually recovering from the aftermath.
"I-I—" She stammers, as her eyes look away. "He was a great man; a troublesome one to be with." A faint smile, barely there for Roland to notice. "Stubborn… sometimes reckless. He had a habit of walking into danger as if it were a conversation waiting to happen. But it was perhaps the most interesting thing that I have ever experienced..."
The conversation halted, though it didn't take long for it to be continued.
She grips her staff slightly tighter. "And yet… people followed him. Not because he asked them to… but because they believed he would walk back out of it."
"That doesn't sound like the man I hear about." Roland jokes.
Ferish utters quietly. "No… but perhaps some would say otherwise."
Right after that comes another suspension.
"You seem quite fond of him, I can tell," Roland said.
Ferish slowly smile, "I suppose you saw through me." She looks down, contemplating another reason, then finally— "There are words… I once thought I could keep for later… I was wrong. I loved him even before we met. No, before he even met me."
Initially, all the heavy emotions she had been holding began to lift. And what follows was another silence.
Soon after comes another subject.
"The world does not wait for us to be ready." Ferish lifts her gaze toward the horizon. "Not then… and not now."
Roland, with a slight shift, sensing a change, asked, "What do you mean?"
"Something has changed, the air, and I sense the different realms shift… even the way the land breathes." She paused. "There is a presence moving again. Something older… something that does not belong to this age…"
"I fear, perhaps, the unresolved past argument." Ferish then glanced at Ragarish. "But what if… You are the one."
"Draw your sword that I may look at it." The priestess continued.
Not hesitating to give, Roland draws upon his holy weapon. Ferish felt the gleam of its radiant power, but she still sensed it was incomplete.
"May I?" Ferish then extends her hand.
Freely offered his weapon, causing the sword's blade to turn transparent, resembling water. In the priestess's hand, she sensed no weight or heaviness; it felt as light as a feather.
"As I thought, the sword needs its other half."
"Other half?"
Ferish nods. "Yes, Seth likely hid it where it came from, but I worry it won't be easy to recover."
At that moment, she saw something in Roland as if she was looking beyond the man she once admired. His eyes showed no fear, but determination… the same eyes that she once gazed at when hope was nowhere to be grasped.
Sheathing back the holy sword.
"You said people followed him because they believed he would return… I wonder if he ever believed that himself." He paused, then steadied. "Either way… I don't intend to walk away from this."
Ferish's gaze widened as she stood beside the descendant of the man that she once followed, bringing something on her. It was as if she had just returned from her previous life, her preceding journey.
The priestess smiled and extended her hand. "Then it would be my pleasure to aid you, Sir Roland."
Departing our sight from the land of Keshoval, they come to a place, a chamber where light dims. In a chamber where darkness resides, a group of mortals is in a conference. Shadows mask their faces, yet they speak of frustration.
Sitting at a round table—
"What now?!" A man's voice begins, upset and cold. "Korveth is dead! And the rest of his servants are now without a master. Our plans have been foiled, and Hawk's minions are sabotaging every hideout we have."
"Calm yourself; there is still much we can do. I have arranged some ways to fulfil our master's desire. Many will take Korveth's place… and I know someone." Replied the other, but calmer and more commanding.
"Hmm…" Comes the third one. "Perhaps there would be someone whom I would like to introduce who might help us in our troubles… Though he might bargain for something valuable to us." The man continues, turning his head towards the very person.
At the back stood a tall mortal, his hair gleaming from the hazy light. Tall as that of Norrevelian. Even with the shadows that masked his appearance, the figure was that of an elf, a high-elf. His presence made the room fall silent. Even without his essence leaking, his elvish power made the group feel heavy.
"And what does he offer us in return?" The man spoke in an upset tone.
A smile gleamed from the third man… "More than we can appreciate."
The group of men continued their words while the elf stood in silence. And after half an hour of debating, comes a conclusion—
"We will give you what you need, but first… the artefact will need more time with us. And we'll help you recover the others; will that be satisfactory?"
Not a word to speak, the elf nods.
Shadows crept, and soon the chamber was filled with the void of darkness, erasing the presence of the mortals who resided there.
To the man, the traveller—
Natalak's eyes steadily opened. Vision was still blurry, but over time, the surroundings became clearer.
Awakened, he felt a warm rope attaching to his wrist.
He pulled his arm and saw a golden rope wrapped three times, connected to a flaming orb.
"The heck?!"
He tried to yank the rope, only to feel a burning sensation not in his flesh but in his soul. Suddenly, his mind reminds him of his bag.
"Where's my—"
He paused when the door opened, and the person who walked into the room was the lady paladin herself—Ashalain.
"What the—"
His jaw dropped, mouth agape as he stared.
Ashalain slowly came forward. Unbothered by the expression on the man's face. She was only a few feet away from Natalak.
"Blondie?" Natalak raised his arms, smiling. "Nice meeting you again."