The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 978

Chapter 978: “-my lady, care for a contract?”

A sneaky little click loomed by the door. Elvira’s stronger demeanor left a while back. Faced with unprecedented trouble, Igna turned his attention to the strange door, ‘-open already,’ he thought, ‘-don’t hang on the hinges,’ a similarly unbased annoyance filled his grip that left reports.

“Master,” a whiff entered – the scent of blood and maladies. The king’s regard shifted, “-enter already,” he said, unperturbed by the sudden arrival.

“Majesty,” it said, only to enter fully and close the opening, “-are you well?”

“Theon,” he returned, “-the excited demeanor, I see an exuberance of innate sexual pleasure drown thy core. I’m afraid I’m not that all interested in my kin...”

“My lord,” he laughed, “-you jest, of course, thee jests,” a few breaths settled the laughter, “-I meant no offense. It’s just,” he twirled his big toe, more it moved, the cruder seemed a disturbing reality – either he’d dig a hole or the coy-like mannerism would shatter little patience Igna held, “-THE EMPRESS,” he blurted, “-SHE’S PRETTY... AND, AND,” everything ceased, the coldness within his resolute gaze, “-is she or her comrades going to be a member of my dungeon?”

“Right,” Igna eased, “-here I thought the matter to be greater,” drawers pulled, two cigarettes; one thrown with an underarm and the other pinched at his lips, “-here,” he muffled and snapped. White ambers lit the chimneys. They puffed.

“The empress is not mine to play with?”

.....

“No actually,” he returned, “-we’re in a stable relationship with the Empire if you can believe it. Her presence is known to only a few – the palace assumes she’s a distant relative. You know, our shades of grey and white are, let’s say, rare. Instead of her, I’ve asked the department to send over prisoners – those given the death sentence. Who’ll care if they die peacefully or painfully.”

“My,” he puffed, “-I’m a little disappointed. I was sure I’d have my way with such a high-ranking noble. Imagine what secrets are hidden within her mind, yes?”

“I wonder,” returned Igna, “-I do wonder. No matter, I’ll have them be at the dungeon soon. Good work as always, Theon.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” he courteously said, shutting the door to a large, resonant office.

‘She handled all the paperwork. The desk was filled... sister, you’re quite the talented politician.’ To the matter at hand, two reports laid side-by-side. One dressed normally within a bounded file, the second – a scroll.

“Report from Easel Run Gard,” said the first, “-greeting’s majesty, I hope this letter finds thee well. After the incident, returning to our normal lives felt a tad uneasy. Death’s around every corner and I dare not slack for once. I safely relay with complete confidence that, Easel Run Gard’s Maicite deposited and mining rights have been legally bestowed onto Hidros. The king had nothing to add, stating the following, ‘-with aid from our comrades of Hidros, our twin-isles has gone through an industrial revolution. Factories, work, and ultimately, money, flows as the waterfalls. Our people have never seen such a way of life before, they’re unaccustomed to a full stomach, plenty of rest, and rights’, they adapted many of Hidros’ policies, almost to the point of being part of our nation. As for the military – our investment in sea-bound defenses and the establishment of a remote base to monitor the northern seas has proved a detractor to many belligerent threats. The independent kingdoms are losing influence quickly. Lest someone stops the expansion of the great empire of Wracia and Alphia, we could see the world become their playground. We’ll continue operations until the isle’s strong enough to stand on their own,” signed Yui.

‘Good news it would seem,’ he laid the first report and undid a knot. The paper unrolled to a mess of mangled letters, ‘-honestly,’ he paused and fixed his glasses, ‘-do they expect me to decipher this mess?’

“Dear Lord,” read the first of very few legible lines, “-after lady Miira’s successful campaign, we found ourselves at a standstill. By what was related to me the Eipea Empire’s moved onto the mainland – charging their attacks on what little remains of the Titan army. On our side, an expedition has been planned to reconquer the capital. A severe lack of funds, armor, weapons, and manpower was a rude awakening. It can be done if we were to call onto the Shadow Realm’s army. We petitioned the request to a decisive no. As such, in view of our foreseeable weakness, I request my lord for reinforcement, we require a man of intellect and foresight. Vengeance’s apparent disinterest in intrigue’s proven... problematic. I do hope my request comes at no shock,” said the last words, “-signed, Kaleem.”

“I did expect something along those lines,” a touch toggled multiple interfaces, “-hello?”

“Master?”

“How goes it, Starix, were you in the middle of something?”

“No, not really,” he returned, “-we were clearing out remnants,” a stronger accent cried in the background, two heavy gunshots rattled the speakers, “-my apologies. Lady Elvira’s very adamant on how we should dispatch enemies. Might I help?”

“Yes, you’re needed in Draebala. We already have a few talented tacticians aiding in our worldly affairs. Cora and Kaleem aren’t doing so great. I presume the reports have reached?”

“Yes, I was informed by a contact. Am I to set off right away?”

“Would that be an inconvenience?”

“Not really,” the area around him expanded, a calm and collected disposition hid a massive truth. Starix, dressed in a black suit, fought amidst a gang war. The narrow alleys of a developing slum a few kilometers from Rotherham shed the bloodied tears of pale-skinned men, “-we’ve captured the leader,” said one.

“Seems the battle is over,” added Igna, “-send over the leader, Theon will accommodate his stay.”

“Understood,” they both smiled and the call ended.

“Sir?”

“Ah, don’t mind me,” he returned, “-I received great news,” he obnoxiously skipped to the handcuffed and gagged man, “-consider yourself lucky, chap. My lord’s decided you’re to visit a five-star hotel,” said a sneaky grin, “-of course, the ratings were given in the memoires of past visitors. Who’s to question the words of a dying man,” he cackled, “-gather round, men,” armed to the teeth soldiers approached, keeping a level of alertness, “-I’ve been called to action by my employer. The time we’ve spent together has been great, we didn’t lose anyone and fought off the enemies admirably. Our actions and glory today shall be recounted by the mouths of the lucky survivors. They’ll come to fear the Dark-Guild’s name again.”

“YES SIR!” they saluted. Trails of smoke rose – the star-filled night seemed melancholic. Fear covered the windows. Dismay and distress lay on every corner. The souls of the dead marched alongside the beat of the angels of death. Thus, amidst the starlet night, as Starix summoned a portal home – a constellation disappeared. Falling stars crossed the nightscape, arching over the tranquil resting Rosespian castle.

“Beautiful,” he blinked and entered.

Starix wasn’t the only observer. King Igna had a warm cup of tea at one of many towers, “-the disappearance of Syhton’s constellation. Has the goddess died?” he sipped, “-or has the heaven’s truly disinherited one of their virtuous goddesses?” the falling arcs felt like fragments of a bigger picture, rather, a gem. They slowly fell, pressing no worry upon the world, smiling silently through pain and sufferance. “-Night truly is the tell of all emotions,” he gulped the remainder, “-I better get to sleep,” *crash,* the cup shattered, he fell onto one knee and grabbed his neck, “-it hurts,” he gritted, “-this feeling,” canines sharpened, the vampiric features clawed from within desperately. “STOP!” a dagger summoned and *slash,* dug into the thighs, he dropped sideways and winced, “-my,” he panted, “-this energy – there are only a chosen few able to draw onto a progenitor’s power. If this happened to me,” he crawled to check the moon, “-what of the others?” a deep red hue enveloped the ever-watchful Luna.

*Clop, clop, clop,* a slender figure came from where the fragments faded, “-it’s you,” he pulled the dagger – would-be blood crystalized in a deep blue, “-I had my doubt,” he smiled, “-a love story of the gods, what a load of bull. Part truth and part make-believe. Daeirq Empress of Luna, the true wielder of blood-arts. Nice to meet you again, Lady Syhton.” Deep blue gems shone at him, akin to the feared redden pupils of the nightwalkers. Hers felt different; calm and observant – deep or some might say, “-why are you here?” he asked, clambering through the pain.

“I need help,” said a troubled voice. A heavy shadow, cast by the tower’s spiked roof, alienated the lass’s colors and features. Her ever-glowing stare walked, her feet appeared first through the candescent luna rays. Her thighs followed, then her waist, and then her whole upper torso exited the blurry darkness. Heavy injuries, a bloodied forehead, a shattered arm, and the inability to rejuvenate, “-I was bested,” she fell, “-by the god of knowledge.”

“Careful,” a quick side-step allowed for the goddess to fell in his arms, alas, the self-inflicted wound proved such a challenge. Both ended on the floor with Igna’s head bouncing off the wall and her head hitting his stomach, “-so much for being powerful gods,” she commented.

“Right,” he sat and held her head on his thighs, “-Goddess of the stars, why art thou here?”

“Can you not see my dying breaths?”

He suspiciously narrowed and laid his thumb over her mouth, “-wait a moment,” a quick stab and blood fell onto her tongue, “-drink up,” he said, “-nightwalkers are immortal, goes double for a god. Take one and the other boon remains, the inconsistency’s nothing strange to me.”

She swallowed, “-see? My wounds don’t heal. The blood’s only sufficient to keep my mind awake.”

“All I need,” he returned nonchalantly, “-lady Syhton, you came to my rescue when I once needed money. You’ve returned to reclaim?”

“No,” answered deeply, “-I don’t care about money or whatnot. I’m a cursed goddess, forced to guide the troubled through their darker times. Imagine taking the pain of all living things who’ve passed through this dimension – hearing their pain, sufferance – it makes one numb, your heart hardens. And even then, when a painful story slashes at the hardened heart – the smallest of cracks shattered everything, everything you held within, everything you thought you’d forgotten. It hits and then silence, the worse pain imaginable.”

“Why?”

“Because you know,” she said, “-you know the meaning of sufferance. We’re not the same but have experienced the worse reality has to offer. Artanos stole my symbol, I was left naked and abandoned – he destroyed everything I had.”

“The symbol yet lives.”

“Of course, it lives, what he stole was a particular fragment of my powers... and I wish that power to not end in the wrong hands.”

“And?”

“Origin’s chronicle,” she said, “-he stole the knowledge bestowed by Origin. He wishes to learn the ultimate truth; he wishes to contact Origin and take his authority.”

“Good luck,” returned Igna, “-Origin’s no longer a simple hallowed figure who sits,” and then when his words piqued her attention – a sudden fa?ade dropped, “-for he’s part of a greater being,” bellowed Igna, “-I say, let him come.”

Her beating heart stopped, ‘-who is he?’ for what seemed an eternity.

“Oh well,” the persona returned at a scarily prominent speed, “-goddess Syhton, say, why me?”

“I just said...”

“No, I mean, what doth thee expect. You chose me for a reason, and I don’t presume it’s on emotion alone. Come on, we know a goddess thinks of more than those human emotions... I do suppose you were first when amorous escapade became a guilty pleasure. Wounded beyond belief, the powers of regeneration were lost to the god of knowledge. Your existence relays on the populous’ faith. If Hidros were to fall, Lucifer’s religion would conquer, leaving naught for little ol’ you. Fate is rather crude. Leaving the life of a goddess such as thineself in the hands of the Devil,” he smirked, “-my lady, care for a contract?”