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overlord-nabriales · 8 years ago

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Chapter 4 - Corruptions Toll

||- AH! GUYS HERE IT IS! Finally! ;_; The final chapter of the epic Saga that I was graciously given the opportunity by @elezenchaser @forestartisangiraffe and @eorzeanstray to use their characters in this tale of corruption and a fight of defiance and freedom! This chapter has been a work in progress for nearly 4 looong tiring and gruesome months as I waged war against writers block and a lack of inspiration on what to do and how to progress the story that I’d broken into pieces, jotting down the parts I wanted to include while becoming stuck on how to connect them all.

In this chapter there will be hints dropped as to what is to come in the future of Nabriales’ dirty scheming. I would like to recommend the song I literally played on repeat while I finished about 14 pages of this chapter which was called Impostor by the band Red. :>

But it’s finally complete and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I had writing it! I’m sorry it took so long! DX

For those who just joined watching me from 4 months till now I recommend reading the drabbles in order!

| Part 1 - The Take Over | Part 2 - The Return | Part 3 - Chaotic Uprising |

And below the cut! Part 4 - Corruptions Toll!

It was loud but quiet. Bright but dark. His head was swarming with so many things at once yet he could not sort out the chaos. It was perpetual and never ending. But sharp clicks met his ears and the sound was so cringing his face contorted to one of pain. Then they stopped, a blurred mass in front of him as he hung shrouded in an almost living and thriving mess of restraints.

“You have held on for far longer than even I suspected.”

His bleary eyes stared at feet before his head lifted ever so slightly for his vision to try and focus on a form. His once vibrant green eyes glazed over with a hazy tone. But he did not respond. The only noise that escaped from his throat was that of a troubled breath as he strained to keep his head up.

The other helped him, lifting his chin further with cold steel fingers. “You are fading. Do you truly wish to cease existing… pet?” The pause followed by a mocking label adding a twisted and almost pleased smirk as though trying to get a rise out of the beaten hyur. He received no such response to his disappointment and so he reluctantly let the man’s head slip from his lifting fingers. “Your body is nearly broken - Your soul however is far more valiant. It is only a matter of time,” he commented softly before turning and dissipating, likely that he was to take control once again and cause a bit of trouble.

But Athral felt he was not alone. He could sense the presence of another.. A more familiar and comforting aura. He tried to lift his head on his own, gazing around until in his blurred vision a white light overshone the area and he found himself in the familiar setting of the house fortemp manor.

As though he were asleep his eyes opened, searching a room with vision as clear as he was known to see. No... this was a trick. It had to be. He was in his bed. And just across from him dozing in an arm chair... no... He reached out with a shaky hand, placing it firmly upon the other's arm before he weakly groaned, “Sno-..snow grouse…” His light words and touch were enough to awaken the sleeping Elezen who quickly became aware of the situation.

“Ah! Athral, I was beginning to think you would not awaken!” quickly his dreary visage turned to one more of his usual sense, with a smile that his eyes mimicked.

The hyur could feel the warmth of tears beginning to pool in his eyes before falling vertically down his turned face, and the elezen soon took note of it. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Is.. this real?” Athral nearly choked on his words over the want for this to be.

The elezen looked at him with a quizzical look before he seemed to chuckle softly. “But of course! You surely hit your head harshly, my friend. Do you not remember anything at all?”

The hyurs gaze turned downcast before Haurchefant decided to try to fill in the missing blanks. “You were knocked unconscious during the battle with Nidhogg, but fear not! Your allies were able to defeat the dreaded wyrm with the help of Hraesvelgr and his brood. It was quite the sight to behold!”

Wait.. WHAT?! Athral’s eyes grew wide in shock as he looked up again to the stoic elezen’s excited features as he recalled the scene upon the Steps of Faith. Then.. the - this couldn’t be. This had to be some sick joke, a dream.. Anything but reality!

“...Snow grouse...” calling him by his nickname hurt, but he needed to know if this was true. “Do you remember what we did the first time we met?”

“How could I forget! We went for a drink and might I add it was quite an adventure! I believe I had to carry you out before our stock went dry - Oh! and the humorous tales, it was a rather pleasant delight amidst the dreariness of the coerthan winters-!” The elezen continued again to retell the night of their meeting in his rather flamboyant ways he was known to. Athral simply stared on, a soft smile on his features - if this wasn’t real.. He could care less. He would live this beautiful lie as long as he possibly could.

----

The paragon soon awoke his preoccupied form to a visitor lying on his other side.. wh-... Ah, yes. He’d forgotten and mostly regretted agreeing to lie with the Elezen during the night. It prevented him from doing more meaningful tasks and yet instead to keep up his dreading act of portraying the hyuran mercenary he had to engage in activities that only mortal minds found enjoyable.

He stared plainly ahead before pulling himself up and bringing his legs over the side of the bed. Movement not of his own turned his expression to a dismal annoyance as Armantel shifted closer to the now empty yet warm place he’d just left behind, a hand feeling feverishly around until it grasped the mercenaries wrist. His gaze traveled lividly to his mild suppressor before a sleepy voice began after a pleased hum.

“You’re up early,” The elezen said with a smile as he stared at the hyurs bare back.

“‘ve got a job,” truth be told the mercenary mind did, though whether he would fulfill it honestly was another question.

“At this hour?” Armantel propped himself up but a short distance before blearily looking around for a chronometer. It was rather early, the sun was just starting to show signs of its forthcoming over the horizon.

“Mhmm,” He’d muffled out a response as he gently tore his hand out of the others light grasp and began the work of finding some clothes to cover up his rather naked form.

In reality he didn’t much care for the bareness. It made him feel vulnerable and open, like a book that could be read in it’s entirety just by looking over the cover. He preferred the anonymity of his dark clad robes and the bright blood red mask that symbolized who and what he was - a being to be feared and never looked down upon. But he could not afford that luxury around these.. Simple minded creatures. At least not until he had all that he’d desired of the mercenary. A slightly malicious smile spread across his lips ending in one side hooking further than the other.

Nabriales could feel Athral’s will beginning to wane with the pleasantries he’d designed for him based on his most deepest and emotionally inclined memories. He could feel the corruption growing deeper almost to the point where he could change the hyur’s appearance to his more usual form by manipulating the vast amounts of aether his body drew in on a daily basis, yet there were small yet strong tethers still in place keeping him from doing so. He did not know the keys to unlock the doors that protected these ties.. But given time he would forge a fake pass and decimate what little remained of Athral.

“Does boss know about this job?” The elezens still dreary voice tearing Nabriales attention away from his thoughts of success and triumph to make a quick nod to him.

“Yeah,” it was a short but simple answer as he'd finally located the particular articles of clothing he'd require for his task. “Go back to sleep if you're still tired. I should be back in the evening.”

Armantel was truthfully still weary from the previous night's enticing connection and then affirmed the suggestion with a hum before grabbing a pillow and bracing it between his curled arm and the side of his face, a clear and amused smile displayed upon his lips.

There was no amusement on the other's features though. As soon as Armantel had quickly drifted back into sleep, Nabriales reached up to his neck to grasp the pendant that hung around the mercenaries neck and yanked the cord - causing it to snap at its weakest point before he threw the object between a crevice formed by a solid mahogany stand and the wall. He scowled towards the objects new home, believing it to be a tether that allowed Athral to linger and cling to this form and this life. It had also been a hinderance to the paragon. It sapped quantities of aether he was determined to hoard for himself yet he could not remove it until now due in part to its requirement to keep up the mercenaries usual appearance but now Athral was fading and he would harbor it no longer.

When he exited of his room a thought crossed the overlords mind which soon enough allowed his lips to twist in their usual fashion they’d often get when he’d come upon an idea. Upon entering the open area of the free companies lobby he’d removed the pamphlet of the job he’d taken and wrote upon it’s back, detailing that he was leaving for nearly most of the day to carry out the mission. Once the ending of his message was complete he requested Weta meet him at the place his work was to be carried out by the end of the day. Satisfied with the message he placed it in a spot he knew the boss would find it and thus went on his way.

It would be some time until Weta would waken but a certain vermin was determined to make a fuss. Lymlilly, with the crystal necklace in tow - had managed to squirm her way under the door of the room Weta occupied while he was staying on the free companies grounds, squeaking frantically as she climbed up the blankets and up to Weta’s face. She’d place her small little hands on the Miqo’te’s cheek and squeaked feverishly until he jolted awake, nearly knocking the poor creature off the bed.

“Huh?!” Weta’s bleary eyes began to focus upon the white blob at the foot of his bed that soon came into full view of the pet Athral cherished. “Lymlilly? What’s wrong?” A question pertaining to the beasts odd behaviour aroused an air of suspicion before she approached and held Athral’s crystal pendant within her tiny paws.

“...wait.. This is Athral’s -” the sudden realization that it was not bound around the hyur’s neck could only send the archer into a panic. “Lymlilly where is he!”

The creature dove off the bed, leaving the crystal for Weta to pick up in a rush for the door. Once opened she guided Weta to the kitchen, following Athral’s scent before climbing up a pillar and onto a counter where the letter was left. Weta grabbed a hold of the paper and noticed it was a written letter. A frown appeared to form on his lips. Had Athral left him this letter despite his inability to read? Something was definitely up and he wasted no time rushing off with both letter and crystal in hand to Athral’s room, knowing full well the fact that Armantel and Athral had a notorious habit of sleeping together.

The door slammed open, Lymlilly rushing in ahead of Weta to climb up the bed and sit on Athral’s pillow before Weta began to shake the sleeping elezen. “Armantel! Wake up!”

“Mmmn… hm..?” It took a bit for the elezen to become aware of the fear stricken tone of Weta’s voice before he came to and sat up quickly, looking down at Lymlilly first and then to Weta. “Boss? Whats wrong?”

Y’weta shoved the note in Armantel’s face, the elezen’s eyes still trying to focus before he grabbed a hold of the parchment and read over it noting that despite the convincing scripture, something was off. The common penmanship Athral used was hurried, rushed as though he was late for something and had little time to spare. “It just looks like he was late for his job…” Armantel commented before Weta shoved the pendant in his face.

“Without this?” his face portrayed a worried scowl. Armantel blinked staring at the gem before furrowing his own brow and looking up to Weta.

“Well… this certainly is cause for alarm,” Armantel spoke before giving the letter another look over. Lymlilly placed her little paws on Armantel’s arm and looked at the letter as though reading it herself before looking up to the Elezen with a small whimpering squeak. It was as though Lymlilly wanted ever so badly to tell them the truth, but a rat could not speak the tongues of man - only chitter and squeak.

“Why would he take this off? It’s too dangerous for him to leave without it,” Weta’s tone sickeningly worried as he dropped the crystal of the pendant into his other palm. “We have to find him!” Determination rose in the miqot’es voice, his ears flattening and his tail flicking to portray his stance.

Armantel turned the note over, noting it was the advertisement detailing the job Athral had taken. “Then we need to go to Gridania. The conjurer’s guild is where the job was issued.” His own concern was beginning to be masked by the will to ensure everything was truly alright.

The two prepared as though they were going in for a fight. If Athral had not taken his pendant and had left this rather hastily written note, then something was amiss and that danger lay ahead them.

-----

It was a long trek into the depths of the black shroud until they found the old manor that the conjurer’s of Nophica’s Altar had made mention of. The place certainly put haukke to shame in terms of the state of ruin it was in upon inspection of the outside. It was the perfect place for voidsent to be running amok and as such the job detailed protection required for a cleansing ritual.

Armantel and Y’weta made short glances to one another before pushing forward with their plan to find Athral and help him should he be in any danger. Inside the air was musty and the decour ominously draped with decades of dust and cobwebs. It was likely this abode had been abandoned even before the dreaded wyrm Bahamut had broken free of Dalamud and reigned terror across Eorzea for it’s brief moments of freedom.

“Well this is certainly far larger than Haukke Manor,” Armantel made note by just the size of lobby itself. “I suppose we will have to split up if we wish to find him.”

Y’weta felt uneasy. A familiar sense washed over him as he listened - ears perked in an attempt to locate any noise other than old wood creaking with every breathe of wind that coursed through the mansion. Splitting up seemed both a good and bad idea, but Armantel was right. Finding Athral was their top priority and so he agreed with a nod. “Hm. Use the linkpearls if you find anything.” Armantel nodded in assurance before heading off to inspect the western halls.

Weta inhaled deeply, gripping the handle of his bow tightly before pursuing the eastern wing. It must have been close to half an hour or more - searching through rooms with decaying wallpaper and objects holding importance, showing sign that the home had once upon a time been inhabited. The Miqo’te was so concerned looking around within the eye level of the hyur he’d been seeking that he’d nearly tumbled to the ground after tripping over something firm. After a quick hop to regain his balance he looked down. Fear lit in his eyes as he gazed down upon the corpse of a conjurer, bled dry of the aether that gave man life. With a quivering breath he gazed forward into the hazy distance. There was another still body. Hastily he rushed toward it and heaved a sigh of relief that it was not that of his companion but another conjurer and even further another. That was the three conjurer’s that Athral was supposed to protect. His ears perked, listening intently for anything as he looked around with fear. Then he heard voices speaking.

He inhaled sharply, removing the curve of the bow from against his body and over his head to fasten an arrow's nock to the string before he set out to tracking the voices as quietly as the old wood beneath his feet would allow.

Weta traced the voices up a flight of stairs and into an open hallway where a faint light bled from the open doorways of a large and spacious room. Peeking just around the corner, he noticed it was a library and the bodies to which the voices belonged were still not in sight and so with another deep breath he pushed forward, getting closer and closer with corner he passed until he’d nearly run into the opening in which he saw two figures. Hasty and cautious to not be seen he retreated back behind the bookcase and hunkered down, intent on listening.

“My lord, Pashtarot continues to grow worried of your… alternative practices.”

Instantly the dialect became clear to him. Ascians. The gift of Hydaelyn deciphered their words as he was intent on knowing what their purpose was here and if Athral had an encounter with them.

“Do you serve the little weasel now? Or have you forgotten who your true master is?”

This one. The voice was far too familiar.

“You know too well who my true master i-”

“And you would know even better that he has deviated from his purpose! He chooses those weak, soft shells over his true nature,” the familiar voice arose with spiteful distaste.

“And yet Lord Lahabrea continues to exist one way or another and thus he remains to be the one I serve entirely.”

Lahabrea? Was the paragon truly still alive?

“And even then if he were to pass, you would be without a light to guide you. So why do you continue to swear fealty to him?” the more overbearing voice demanded.

“I do so because I am born of this land as he is and thus I am bound to serve only his will - second to that of our lords. I know he would not approve of this recklessness”

Y’weta peeked around the corner to get a glimpse of the dark clad figures before ducking back behind the wall of books. One seemed to be a lesser paragon while the other a more powerful rank of their kind, an overlord seeing as how much his voice commanded respect. Yet seemingly in an instant the air of the scene seemed to turn heavier as the overlord whose back faced the opening began to walk casually toward the black masked entity.

“You're right. Tied to your lord's will, you would know of his thoughts far better than even I could hope to understand.”

The overlords tone was of a calm demeanor as he moved towards the old dusted and cracked window just behind the lesser paragon. Of course caution would be taken as the other turned to keep a focus upon him.

“However, your lord is weak and frail in his current predicament. He chooses to lead a mortal life over one with infinite power and longevity,” the overlord spoke as he brought his hands behind his back gazing through the glazed glass.

“I have faith he will return to us when he is ready,” there was an unease in the lesser ascians tone, Y’weta could feel it.

“Your faith is warranted for I will see to his return even if I must force his hand into action,” the overlord turned towards the lesser being, the miqo’te turning around ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of red confirming his suspicion of him being an overlord.

“Once I have taken what remains of this pitiful mercenary I will see to your lord’s return. However, speak a word of this to your master and I will personally send you to see Loghrif for your defiance.”

Mercenary? He had to be speaking of Athral!

“I… I will not,” there was hesitance in the other ascians voice; as though this Loghrif was one to fear - and then the heavy presence lifted only a fraction, leaving the deepened and tainted aether of the overlord to remain.

Fueled with equal amounts of bravery and fear that something had happened to Athral at the hands of this being, he pulled back the string of his bow and rounded the corner to stand within the open, shouting out with a straggling worry, “Where is Athral? What have you done with him?!”

There was a pause from the dark clad figure, his hands still neatly crossed behind his back before he spoke in the tongue of mortal men.

“Ah, so our fates are to be entwined once again, warrior of light.” The voice, it was too familiar, he couldn’t shake it now, but Y’weta would not let his guard down; pulling back further on his bow. As the Ascian began to turn towards him the red mask came into full view, it’s design confirmed any doubts he'd had on the placement of the paragons voice.

“Y-you! Nabriales!” Weta stammered in disbelief. “You're dead! I-I saw to that!” His brow furrowed at the realization that the venomous overlord who'd kidnapped the antecedent and been the cause of death of a trusted scion was now standing before him, intact and whole.

“I'm quite pleased you recall my name,” he spoke with his twisting smile. “I take it you bore witness to my handiwork upon your entrance?”

“I would be more relieved to know the whereabouts of my friend,” Y'weta scowled, peering at the Ascian from between the wood of his bow. “You made mention of him. Where is he?”

“Ah, the mercenary. He is here … in a sense - barely I suppose.” He let go of a brief chuckle as though he found the rather confusing predicament amusing.

“I don’t have time for your riddles! Where is he!?” Weta demanded as he reassured himself that he was willing to let loose the arrow.

The overlord hummed before beginning his approach towards the miqo’te and yet Weta found himself unable to back away as he came closer, the ascian lifting a finger to trail along the tip of his arrow and down the shaft as he moved slowly. “Now that in itself is a rather tricky question...” he spoke the words with such an insidious tone that Y’weta could feel his spine tingling with numbness as Nabriales’ fingers were soon laid upon his drawn hand.

The Miqo’te could do nothing as his body trembled, he could not even speak. The magicks Nabriales was utilizing was not like that experienced from their former encounter against the overlord - it was as if he were far more powerful in this new incarnation and yet in the moment he’d touched Y’weta, he could feel a sense of familiarity. However in that single moment, the hand at his own tore the bow from his grasp, discarding it a distance away while the other followed up - locking fingers around Weta’s neck as he threw him against a tower of books, the shelves shattering and books tumbling down. There was no time for recovery as Nabriales was upon him again, his hand returning to Weta’s throat before he felt himself being hoisted into the air, his feet leaving the comforts and stability of the floor.

During the opposition Weta attempted to claw and kick at the assailant, able to cause such a fuss that he managed to grab hold of the edge of the paragons decorative mask before tearing it from him. But he would not expect what lie beneath, for the mercenaries own face graced his enemies visage. Y’weta grabbed futilely while in shock at the hand that held him up, choking the breath from him as the sharp silver talons dug deep into his neck - the tips beginning to penetrate flesh as small trickles of blood began to force through the fresh wounds.

“What will you do now?” a question proposed with a suppressed laugh of mockery slipping past the corrupted form of the mercenaries lips.

Yet the Miqo’te could not answer with how tightly he’d been held. This could not be it! To die at the hands of a vile creature who had taken control of a trusted companion. Who had played his part well enough to go unnoticed without question. He couldn’t - but hope came in the form of movement just beyond the Ascian.

Armantel was slowly easing himself within view of the miqo’tes glancing gaze, taking a hold of the discarded bow and an arrow near before he drew it back and took aim. The elezen had caught the faint sounds of the foreign dialect from the linkpearls open communications before and had worked in tracking the miqo’te down, knowing full well there was to be danger looming. Yet when Weta saw Armantel and the following actions he was committing to, his eyes grew wide in shock. He shook his head to the best of his ability, gasping for air to warn him - to stop him from releasing his pull. But by then it was too late. Combining what he knew of astromancy and what even less he knew of archery the arrow was loosed.

It might have been a subtle relief for Weta as the Overlord released him in an attempt to flee the oncoming attack - the build of magics being siphoned into the arrow’s tip alerting his senses, but still the target struck true, albeit off its mark. The frustrated snarl of Nabriales vocals portrayed that despite his hasty moment to withdraw into the shadows, the arrow still embedded itself within the mortal flesh he occupied causing him to stagger from his retreat not a few steps away. Though still with cowl covering his entire visage a rather coy chuckle came from within his breath as he stood only halfway from gripping his upper shoulder - the arrow to which Armantel fired breaching through and through.

“Ah.. now that did tickle a bit. Who knew you had it in you?” the change of the voice and tone as it progressed through speech was beginning to surface something far more recognizable... The Ascian raised his afflicted arm over head, reaching under with his adjacent hand to break off the end of the arrow's shaft before pulling the spearhead from the front, tossing the arrows remnants aside.

At this point Armantel was confused beyond reasonable doubt. It couldn’t be… But revelations became apparent when the cowl fell and the man turned halfway to great his gaze with an unusual deep brown hue. “Hello, handsome.”

The Elezen stepped back, dropping Weta’s bow in pure shock. He’d… he’d shot .. Athral? Athral was - No.. this was wrong. This wasn’t Athral. His eyes betrayed that much.

The hyur began to approach Armantel and all he could do was stand frozen in his tracks, his mind attempting to understand this reality. This wasn't real! But Nabriales - being the vile and venomous scorpion he was, was all about increasing such shock factors.

As he made his way over he began to dig the talon upon his index into the fresh wound, coating it thoroughly with blood as he began to speak to the disoriented man before him. “Such power - you've been holding out on me, handsome,” he remarked before in Athral’s smooth and coy voice, bringing the red tainted cold steel to run smoothly across the other's cheek, dragging them down the still man's lips all the while leaving a clean trail of blood in its wake. It sent Armantel into further disarray when the vile creature's lips pressed roughly into his own in a passionate embrace so like Athral’s.

It was enough for Y'weta as he'd soon gained enough consciousness to spit out a fury of few words. “Get away from him!” His words followed by action as he stumbled up to his feet and rushed at the imposters back.

Though not being fully recovered from his spell of dizziness, the Ascian used it to his advantage, allowing him to shift into the shadows just moments before Weta would be upon him. The imbalance coupled with the disappearance of the monster right before him saw his body collide with the dazed elezen, forcing both bodies to tumble and crash into a dilapidated book case, dust rising as wood shattered and came crashing down around the two.

Nabriales let go of a bout of humoured laughter at the scene as though the two were jesters performing for his amusement. “Now that is a pity,” he calmed himself after taking a moment by releasing a breath of air, choosing to continue using the hyur’s voice as a means to antagonize and ridicule the lot.

He took a moment to walk towards the recovering duo, stopping just before as the pile of splintered wood and desecrated books began to be cast aside slowly as Armantel and Weta worked feebly to remove the damaged furnishing. “Let’s have a little fun, shall we?” the paragon spoke with sinister intent as he gritted his teeth in a wide and open grin.

----

As for the mercenary himself, his days were being spent in the company of companions - Celebrating their past victories and more to come. Of course what else could one expect from such a perfect world. As the boasting of stories continued on around him at the dining hall of the Fortemps manor, Athral could not help but feel an unease.. As though something was left undone. He could feel something pulling at him, hear the faint cries of a familiar voice calling out to him. And then as clear as a sunny day in coerthas a single phrase.

“Forgive me but I must have you come to your senses!”

And shortly after those spoken words a clap of thunder and a searing jolt of volatile aether sent him writhing to the floor of the manor, crying out in pain. And yet his companions did nothing, seemingly carrying on their festivities as he lie cringing in agony. Shortly after the pain suddenly subsided and he came to a moment still in time. He looked around in panic as the world around him had halted in an all too familiar scenario. But even as he dreaded the slithering tongue of the dark lord, he was shocked to hear a different voice speaking to him.

“Athral.. I.. I’m sorry I had to do that.”

Athral’s gaze darted towards the dark clad disciple. It..

“Cailethan? How-?” Athral was bewildered, was this real? Was this all a dream? Or had he passed over drunk at the party? Yet as though he knew what Athral was about to ask, the young paragon responded.

“I continue to exist because I infused a fragment of my being with you when you shattered my soul. But I only exist within your soul and no longer his as you continue to remain. I have been trying to reach you for days but I was too weak… You were too weak.” The boy’s attention turned downward before he looked up to the moment paused in time and then to Athral in a pleading gaze. “You need to wake up, your friends are in trouble and they will die if you don’t fight this!”

“What are you talking about? My friends are fine… I’m.. I’m with them, we were having a celebration - I -” Athral tried to plead with himself that what he believed real was true but the youth persisted that the reality he’d been experiencing was all a farse.

“Athral this isn’t real - Nabriales created a setting based upon your memories. The moment you awoke here you began inserting figments of your past and mixing them with what you desired most. An outcome that you wished but never came true. It’s allowing him to not have to sit here and orchestrate everything that goes on!” his voice held defiance even though it hurt to have to break someone with honesty. Cailethan was not used to the pain of the truth. He had always been so set with lies and deceit like that of his former mentor that he had never once stopped to think of the pain it was truly causing until he’d experienced such betrayal himself.

“This...isn’t...real?” He spoke the words softly and slow, suddenly the events of what truly happened began to flood his mind, he was no longer celebrating and was instead upon the walkway of the vault, the very place he’d lost him… His eyes opened in shock as he gazed at his hands. Blood.. But not his own.

“Your thoughts fuel this world… Every time you think of something this world changes to fit that vision.” Cailethan spoke as he approached Athral, kneeling down before him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You have to end this or you and your friends will not survive.”

The hyur fought back tears, gritting his teeth to attempt to keep them at bay. “He.. tricked me,” his voice held a growing fury as the realization that this perfect world, this… beautiful lie was just that. Fake. It did not truly exist except for in the desires of his mind. The world around them slowly began to crumble and Cailethan took note as brick by brick the setting began to fall.

“Athral.. When this dream ends, he will be made aware,” he had little time to explain as the illusion was beginning to dispel itself. “He cannot be here and there at the same time. He will come and when he does, I will help you with what little is left of my strength.”

Athral’s fists clenched tightly, his body shivering with a blaze of fury that began to well up inside him. “He… That monster will fuckin’ pay for this!” finally the rage had been released with a scream that unbridled his anger, what little was left of the dream of his reality was torn away like a force of wind bending trees to its will.

His eyes opened and with a newly awakened strength he tore himself from the bindings that held him against his will, pushing outwards in a show of defiance that he would not be broken so easily. The thick vines began to snap and those that were embedded within the body of his soul were being pulled from within him as he fought against this living prison. With a long drawn cry of fury and agitation he broke from the restraints and fell against the floor that had grown over with vines similar to those that had subdued him.

His breath started out ragged before he began to push himself up. “Ca-Cailethan?” He looked around for the young paragon to seemingly appear alongside him but the boy did not, instead only his voice accompanied him.

“I’m here.”

“Where?” Athral questioned before the youthful paragon replied.

“I exist in your soul now, remember? I am no longer bound to him, but you … for the time being at least.”

“Then where is he…?” Athral’s words were heavy as he gathered himself to his feet, his tone dark and dripping with the power of rage he’d used to destroy his bindings.

“You’ll have to draw him in.”

“And how do we do that?” Athral growled, seemingly ready to smash anything he could find into pieces.

“He’s bound to you by a dark crystal, unlike what became of Thancred and Lahabrea; Nabriales chose to embed your body with it which is something he was careless in doing.”

“What do you mean?” the hyur questioned as he rose up, regaining his composure finally standing to gain his bearings.

“The crystal Lahabrea used to bind himself to Thancred was on the outside, thus making it difficult for the scion to fight with him internally for control. With the crystal inside your body, it will make it easier to locate and thus cause harm to Nabriales himself.”

“Ah right, Boss mentioned something like that. Alright so where is it?” Athral grunted, pounding his fist into his opposing palm.

“Focus. You can find it by following the flow of aether. Do you remember from before when we set those souls free? Follow the the direction the aether flows from the vine like structures.”

Athral attempted to focus like Cailethan said, but at the time being he was more focused on kicking a certain monsters ass. As though simply thinking about that thought he felt his aether being pulled at and it nearly caused him to stumble in the direction of the tug.

“Woah,” a simple phrase of disbelief one would often express when something of a similar situation would happen.

“That’s it, go!”

Cailethan urged him on and it seemed for once Athral got something with his aether right without much practice. Not wanting to dally behind he took off from the room he was currently prisoner to, coming into the hallway that was once nearly barren now blanketed thick with the twisting corruption.

There was another tug and he set off in it’s direction. How long had it been that the overlord had possession of his body? How much time had passed for the corruption to grow so thick as to nearly choke out his existence? He shook his head, he couldn’t think about that right now. What mattered was that he was free and with that freedom he’d planned to obliterate that bastard.

After a few twisting turns he began to hear voices… familiar voices.

“Athral, I know you’re in there! Please!”

It was Weta!

“How lovely it is that you think there is even a shred of his existence still within me.”

That.. was his voice speaking those deceitful lines. He… Athral growled with fury as he picked up the pace finally coming into view the large corrupted form of the very dark crystal the vicious monster had driven into his body those weeks ago. He didn’t even bother slowing down to find a way to speak to his friends. He went straight for the source.

“You fuckin’ bastard, I’ll make you choke on those words!” He rushed the static crystal with full force, slamming his whole body into it’s base and that was all it took to crack its surface, splintering a few small fragments from it’s tethered body and causing it to tremble.

It was almost as if the Overlord did choke back further words, feeling the damage done in the surface of the corporeal world. It was such a trifling blow that he’d nearly stumbled back, losing temporary control of his actions as he stood still and hunched for a few seconds. He was bewildered for a moment before the realization dawned upon him.

No... It cannot be…

Now he was furious. He could not contend on two fronts now; this world and the one within the body of the mercenary. He only had time to deal with one and the one most threatening was that of the warrior’s awakening from the illusion that was meant to be his end. The overlord no longer held back, roaring with such a rage as he summoned from the depths of the hyurs body enough aether to amplify his abilities to even disrupt the very essence of time for the warrior of light himself, suspending everything in a terminated animation before he retreated within to deal with the problem that had resurfaced.

Upon his coming into the space in which the dark crystal bore itself he first took note to inspect the damage. It was extensive… It could not have been the mercenary who’d done this. No, he would be far too weak to cause this. He could not dabble too long on the thought though as a fist came slamming into the side of his face as he stared distracted at the shattered pieces.

It was most certainly unexpected for the paragon, throwing him off his feet and to the ground, though he was quick to recover as his assailant was upon him in nearly an instant, rolling out of the way as the very same fist came crashing down in the place he formerly occupied. He finished the roll into a crouch to take a look at his attacker and for one to see disbelief upon the corrupters face was all the hyur needed to return it with a smirk of confidence as he rose up and charged again, not giving the Ascian time to think of the next course of action.

It was time to think that the ascian needed, taking the opportunity to retreat into the shadows as was common for him to do. It left Athral to come to a sudden halt as he glanced around, frantically looking for any sign of where he might show up next. Instead he heard his voice all around him, throwing off his perception.

“So it is you…”

“You sound surprised,” Athral responded cooly, still keeping his head clear enough to try to pinpoint the other’s location.

“More dissapointed…” Nabriales responded dully as the end of his words formed behind the hyur, his reaction time being on point to catch the blow of a foot aimed at his back before attempting to shove the overlord off balance, yet he’d only fall back into the shadows before trying from a different vantage point, this time successfully slamming the steel clawed tips of his gloves across the hyur’s face, causing his body to fall partially off into the flow of direction the attack headed towards.

He’d regained his ground but by then the Ascian had returned to sightless aether. “Yeah?” he spat definitely. Despite not bleeding, the blow still stung - lines the claws left behind glowed with an ethereal vibrance as they sealed up, healing over in what he could only assume Cailethan’s doing.

“Keep talking.”

Cailethan urged. Athral was once again compliant. “Were you expecting someone else?” he spoke with a defiant sarcasm, trying to lure the hidden one with mockery. “Well sad to put you down in the dumps on that. I’ll be sure to send in my apology note when I send your ass back to your dead god.”

A pool of dark aether was forming behind Athral, stalking him in a circle as the hyur turned to attempt to address the direction the other may have been hiding in. It seemed Cailethan could sense the Overlord’s temper rising with every insult the mercenary taunted with, being so closely tied to that of his lords will.

“Behind you!”

The information came just in time for the warrior to spin around as a frontal outpour of destructive aether deflected off its direct path towards him followed immediately by a strike intending for the claws of the Ascian’s gloves to embed into Athral’s body. But with the early warning, he’d managed to step to the side, grabbing the hand that was intended to strike his center and then planting his other hand on his shoulder and falling back into a roll, applying a pushing force to the overlord’s chest to toss him into the air, finalizing the end of the deflect into a spin that he ended in a crouch, facing the direction he’d tossed the enemy.

“Keep it up! As long as his emotions are raised I can sense where he’ll come from if he disappears again.”

Again Athral was happy to oblige. “Getting a little slow their aren’t ya?” he huffed with a simple smirk, keeping his crouched stance in defense.

Nabriales was growing impatient and quite furious at the fact that this blasphemous hyur continued to antagonize him not even forgetting the fact that he was somehow managing to dissuade his attempted attacks. He had to get off the floor. Get up. He told himself and with a growl his body followed the command slowly.

“How old are you even? Maybe you should just stay down, ya know? Brittle bones n’ all,” Athral rose slowly, adding insult to injury as he held his hands up in a soothing manner, patting the air with both hands as though mockingly trying to ease the others stress.

“I know not how you manage to stand in your condition…” the paragon growled deeply. “But I will see to it you are on your knees before this is over!” It was almost instantly that Nabriales arose, levitation came into play as he began to draw in the aether channeled from the dark crystal before him.

The mercenary didn’t like where this was going as he watched the mass amounts of energy swirling and pooling around the overlord, his form contorting and turning into the monstrosity that had bored the dark crystal into his chest. A single pulsating wave pushed out from it’s center bouncing off it’s surroundings before it reversed it’s trajectory and began to draw in it’s surroundings like that from before in the dark world, but pull was far stronger than before.

Athral continued his attempts to resist the flow that drew him steadily closer to the bodiless apparition clad in ragged robes and deathly skeletal fingers adorned with black cloth and tarnished silver claws.

“I will end you as I should have long ago!” The distorted voice called out with rage. “I will consume what remains of your pitiful existence!”

“Damn it!” Athral cursed under his breath trying to grab ahold of an uneven surface to stay the force that attempted to draw him in.

“No, let go.”

Cailethan wanted him to let go?! Was he mad? “The hell for!” Athral spat. So far Athral had obliged to the young paragon’s requests, yet this one was by far the only one that made him uncomfortable, but he reassured.

“Trust me!”

The hyur snarled fiercely as if wanting to deny such a comfort but so far Cailethan had been helping him this far. Whatever the child like ascian had done in his former existence he seemed to be desperately trying to amend it. However he shut his eyes tightly and released his hold on whatever protruding surface he’d clung to, letting himself be pulled towards the monster.

But what he did not expect was for his form to go straight through the paragon’s grim appearance and it would seem neither did the creature. Athral found himself skid to the ground behind the mass of torn rags adorning the red mask of Nabriales and noticed that the gravity of the draw in was only pulling from before the beast.

“What?!” A monstrous growl of rage and confusion beset the overlord as he turned sharply. “This is impossible!” An impossibility that he could not currently comprehend until it dawned upon him. “Is it that your soul harbors another!?”

“Go!”

The youthful paragon didn’t have to tell Athral anything before he was on his feet and charging, summoning all his strength with a primordial shout as he lept up and slammed his fist into the red signature mask of the monster before him. It was like Cailethan had aided in channeling what remained of his own into the blow as the mask shattered into small fragments, dispelling the deathly image and sending the paragon back against the large crystal formation.

“Agh!” Nabriales hissed as the back of his head slammed against the uneven surface of the corrupted shard - the blow causing him to become dazed as the surface of his fragment cracked.

“Don’t let up!”

It was a demand that Athral was more than willing to follow as he took the opportunity to rush the paragon and pin him against the tethered fragment drawing in his hand an aetherial spearhead like fragment of his own aether combined with Cailethans above his head, driving it down in an instant.

However the time it took for Athral to pounce was enough for Nabriales to at least halt the attack for the time being, yet with his previous form shattered it seemed to had dealt damage to the dark crystal, black aether began to seep from it’s cracks weakening both his hold and the strength he held against the oppressed hyur. He clenched the wrist that held the violet shard that seemed to be aiming at him, the stress of keeping it at bay beginning to show through.

“I’m sick and tired of being your plaything!” Athral growled through gritted teeth as he kept applying strength to drive his arm down further.

“You-you’ve been suppressed far too long! H-how can you fight with such strength!?” Was that a tinge of fear the Ascian displayed in his tone? The overlord was bewildered at the fact that Athral was indeed beginning to overpower him. Even with the dark crystal damaged like it was, he still should have been far more than capable of disposing this nuisance in it’s current state of disrepair. Even the look in the others eyes gave Athral an empowered feeling.

“Are you afraid?” the hyur let go of the words with a partial gritty chuckle.

“No - you are mortal!” It was apparent the man was angering the paragon, but it was true. The paragon recalled the feeling of true fear. The feeling was overcoming him, he began to reminiscence and in that moment as he drifted to a memory he’d long forgotten, Athral was able to finally overwhelm the resistance to bring down the violet shard upon his aetherial body.

He drove it through the Ascians body with such a fury that it bore through his form and slammed heavily into the surface of the dark crystal, essentially pinning the monster to his own corruption. Upon realization of what had truly just happened, Nabriales came to from his trance and sputtered as though he were truly capable of expelling blood.

With a one last push as though driving a stake through the monster's heart, Athral pushed himself away from the construct, retreating to a safe distance as further cracks dredged their way through it’s jagged form. He watched as it began to crumble - like the illusion the vile beast had made for him, trapped him in, expecting him to just lay down and die.

Nabriales could not comprehend what had just happened. He remained in place, despite the formation crumbling down around him. The look of his dazed and confused visage persisting as though he had seen something that truly puzzled him. As though he was not ready to accept the reality of this loss. But here he was, his form seeping the very black aether that dissipated from the dark crystal. The tethers it used to bind itself to Athral’s body bursting into nothingness before the crystal itself shattered allowing the overlord to fall forth upon hands and knees where he lingered for a moment.

Athral watched on as Nabriales glanced up at him with his brow furrowed in confusion until he saw a slightly smaller form come into view besides the hyur. Cailethan… It all became clear to the overlord how and why Athral broke free.

“You…” he uttered the words darkly and with a silent quivering rage before the aetherial manifestation of his form began to dissipate and soon cease existing.

Athral stood in silence at the openness that was left behind by the former occupant before he noticed Cailethan standing to his side. “Is it over? Is he-”

“He is not dead,” Cailethan denied his suspicions before looking up to him. “But for now it is over.” Upon speaking those final words the young paragon grimaced nearly doubling over.

Almost out of instinct Athral caught him, concerned at first but realizing that Cailethan had used up what little remained of his soul to help him break free and that it was time for him to say farewell. “This is it, huh kid?”

The boy laughed albeit a bit grimly and nodded. “I’ve lived many life times following his ways… I had done things… things I would have never dreamed of doing had he not torn my soul from the lifestream… It wasn’t till the time he killed me that I truly saw that everything I’d done was to gain his approval… I didn’t want to do any of it but I felt it was appease him. Make him see me. But still he looked through me. Towards something else…always.” Cailethan slipped out of Athral’s grasp, finding his footing on his own.

Athral watched him in silence, not even bothering to contemplate the deeper meaning of what this something Nabriales truly was looking toward. “Sucks I won’t see you again,” Athral’s lips released a grimacing smile.

“No, but maybe in another life,” Cailethan spoke with a smile, trying to alleviate the pain of having to say those two difficult and painful words before he began to dissipate.

“Yeah… T...Take care, huh?” Athral said, also trying to refrain from speaking them.

“Yeah,” Cailethan nodded lightly, keeping up his smile to the very end until his presence was no longer felt.

He felt a big relief. A burrowing weight deep inside him began to release. He could finally rest peacefully knowing this was all over, despite the lingering feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of the vile overlord. Yet he cast that feeling away.. He was tired.. He just wanted to sleep for now… And so he closed his eyes and drifted.

-----

Time resumed in the waking world, the unpausing of any actions relinquishing as well the heavy, taxing aether that filled the room and once choked it’s current occupants. The body of the mercenary stumbled back before suddenly falling to his knees and then upon his side where he lay unmoving.

Armantel and Weta had been thrust into the air by the former shockwave of pure darkened aether that had forced time to halt and yet the moment Athral’s body collapsed, so too did everything affected by the magicks - dropping the two captives upon the floor roughly.

“Athral!” Weta managed to stammer out, uncaring for the pain his own body experienced as he scrambled to the side of the hyur. He grabbed a hold of the unconscious being, feeling no more that dark, foreboding presence of the insidious paragon, his ears falling flat with relief.

“Is he-” Armantel’s fear of demise unsettled as he approached cautiously but his fears quickly hushed by the ranger’s subtle words.

“No,” it was with a calm sigh that Weta could declare Athral was in fact still breathing despite how shallow his chest heaved. For a moment Weta and Armantel exchanged views, as though silence questioned them how long this had been going on and just how much stress was placed upon Athral’s body as the paragon occupied it. But they knew that with time he would come around - just as it had for the scion, Thancred. One thing was for certain that the hyur would not be pleased to awaken and find himself in the garb of an Ascian but first and wiith a smile, Y’weta pulled the crystal pendant from his pouch and fastened it around the hyur’s neck. It was over…

#Writings #Writing #Written Works #Drabble #Athral Stark #Y'weta Tia #Armantel Beauremont #Nabriales #Headcanon

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