Ascension - (Alarian Warriors)

Aveyon immediately knew what he meant, her head jerked up and her eyes widened.

“No...” She half whispered as Emerald looked to Vincent for an explanation.

“Around the time the King took the Princess’s aura and killed the Queen, Erosvent was on Earth already for his trial. It wasn’t until midway through his trial some twenty years later that he found out about what happened and started looking. His visions guiding him.” His eyes dulled. “It was hard on him.”

“Of all the things... Why would he?” Aveyon felt her stomach turn. No one needed to see what had happened to her. She didn’t even want to remember it.

“How much did he see?” she asked hesitantly, unsure on if she wanted to know the answer.

“Eros has always been one for justice, and he, like many others, knew you were wrongfully accused. With Anzel having disappeared he took it upon himself to find you. Not to make you Queen, not to fix anything, just to free you. He wanted that for you.” Vincent didn’t need to say it, he had witnessed most of, if not all her abuse.

Aveyon slowly started to shake her head in disbelief. “He would have seen, felt so much...” She trailed off.

Emerald still seemed confused. “Can someone fill me in here? What exactly are the visions that he sees?” As the elf wrapped her arms around Aveyon, she looked at Vincent with even more questions.

He complied. “Erosvent has the ability to channel a person’s past, using objects that have been touched by or once owned by the person he is channelling. He is the perfect tracker. He also has the gift of foresight, though it’s not always clear, and the future is always changing. He found where she had landed in this realm and returned to that tree several times to channel her.”

“But it was already too late.” Aveyon pointed out. “He already had us at that point and was shielding the location with spells.”

Vincent nodded. “Every time he had a vision it was too dark or too painful for him, he couldn’t focus on anything that would truly help.”

Aveyon flinched at his words.

“Too painful?” Emerald quested.

Aveyon responded this time. “In his visions, he takes the place of the person he’s channelling, basically he would have experienced what I did.” She shivered clenching at her clothes.

“Holly hell!” Emerald spat out. She tilted her head to one side as a thought accrued to her. “That’s why he already knew so much about me and my son, he had lived it through Aveyon.” Emerald gained a new sense of respect for the man in that moment.

“Why did he not tell me?” Aveyon shook her head trying to understand.

“I don’t think he wanted you to know, he was ashamed of not being able to find you for so long.” Vincent’s tone held sorrow.

Aveyon was beginning to feel sick; her mind was going back to all the times she had been hurt, tortured and raped by that man, and Eros, he’d seen it and lived through it alongside her.

Emerald eyed Vincent and inclined her head in Aveyon’s direction. He caught her meaning in an instant. Emerald wasn’t going to be here for her very soon, he would need to be her rock in her place.

Aveyon, however, didn’t even notice that they had swapped places, too caught up in her own mind.

“Princess.” He began. “Don’t think about the past, stay here, look forward, not back.”

A hand touched hers and she looked up at him, finally noticing the change. She didn’t pull away. His eyes showed concern for her. She could feel his caring nature fill her with warmth and the panic seemed to subside a little. She looked at Emerald confused, what were they doing?

Emerald laughed softly as she sat in front of the fire. “I’m going to miss those facial expressions,” she commented, lightening the mood. She had got want she wanted out of the exchange, Aveyon didn’t pull away from him, and she needed to confirm it for herself before she would be content with leaving them by themselves.

“You two are scheming something.” Aveyon narrowed her eyes on the elf.

“You’re welcome,” Emerald stated matter-of-factly.

Vincent went to pull back his hand, but Aveyon out of instinct laced her fingers with his, stopping him. Only then did he notice that she still had a slight tremble. He acted like nothing happened, hiding his surprise, she must have needed the contact to help calm her down, to ground her.

“By the way, how did you find us?” Emerald had noticed the exchange and was hiding a small smile.

Vincent continued his explanation. “Eros had tried many times to push himself into the vision rather than experiencing it. Similar to dreamwalking, he has not managed to master the art. Something was blocking him, and he could never do it.”

“Dreamwalkers are rare, so for him to even attempt such a thing is impressive,” Emerald commented.

Aveyon all the while remained silent and listened. Present in the moment and trying her best not to sink within herself.

“Alarians are a funny butch with what they can do.” Emerald pondered aloud.

“It seemed the warlock lived for around 60 years after he had obtained you two. Eros spent half of that time searching. You'd already been with him for around 25-30 years before his trail was cut short and he found out you were missing.” He lightly squeezed Aveyon’s hand as he felt her body tense beside him.

As she relaxed, he knew he could continue. “Only after he died could Eros determine what part of the realm you were in.”

“Why?” Aveyon asked slightly confused.

“He mentioned something to do with a collar stopping him from projecting out of your physical form.”

“Shit! The one you got off a few weeks before we got out!” Emerald remarked shocked.

Aveyon frowned at her foul language but remained silent.

Vincent nodded. “Because that came off...” He looked to Aveyon and smiled. “He was able to finally see inside the house and explore it, however, the barrier stopped him from exploring the outside.”

“But that meant you had a starting point; you could narrow down the search through building styles at least.” Emerald seemed quite excited about the tale as it unfolded.

“Right! We narrowed down the particular area that you girls could have been in, and began our search there, but...”

“His abilities were far stronger than we ever thought...” Aveyon muttered; her voice low.

“Indeed, not only did the house have a barrier, but once I was inside it... it was strange, disorientating. It was hard to navigate.” He continued to explain.

“Some sort of concealing spell, Erosvent said he copied it for the Sanctuary’s use,” Emerald added.

Vincent nodded. “He really didn’t want anyone to find out about what he was doing, it was so different from anything we had seen before. Salvers are one thing, but this... I can’t even begin to imagine the reasons behind that foul man's actions.”

"He was power hungry. Convinced that by consuming pieces of magical flesh he would be granted powers of his own." Emerald explained for them both.

Vincent made a disgusted face at the information.

“But why did you go into the house in the first place, when we met you mentioned a cat?” Aveyon was slowly coming back to herself as they continued to talk.

“You remember that?” He asked.

“Vividly, hard to forget the day we got out of hell,” Aveyon commented.

“A-men to that” Emerald concluded. “But I was only half conscious, so I do have an excuse.” She pouted.

Vincent wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be shocked, at this point he had just learnt to accept Emerald's strange demeanour. “That cat, it was walking right through the barrier, I could see it walking in and out, disappearing and reappearing as it moved. I wouldn’t have found the house at all if not for that animal.”

“Felines are more often than not considered magical animals. The first forms of our Druid kin are normally feline in nature. All elves consider them to be great for guidance and good luck.” Emerald spoke in her teaching voice again.

“So, you’re thinking like I am. It was there for a reason, maybe even intentional.” He added. “I went to get the cat and walked right through the barrier, once inside the cat just... disappeared but I found you two.”

“I’d like to meet that cat,” Emerald said crossing her legs in front of her and placing her hands on her knees. “I have a lot of questions. I doubt it was a normal cat.” She began but soon became lost in her own thoughts as the fire crackled between them.

The silence continued for a time before Emerald stood up dusting off her clothes. “So... How long are you guys going to hold hands?” She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Aveyon gasped and slid her hand out from Vincent’s in a hurry, she was fine now, she didn’t need the contact but had forgotten that she’d grabbed hold of him.

Vincent, not wanting to make a big deal out of it stood and stretched. “You heading out now?” He asked the elf.

Emerald nodded. “I have to get a move on if I want to catch the slavers.”

Aveyon stood up and reached for her. They had already said their goodbyes, so they simply hugged. Their foreheads rested together as they closed their eyes and silently wished each other luck.

“Take one of the horses, I can ride with Vincent.” Aveyon offered, knowing that he wouldn’t object.

The elf nodded, packed her things and mounted the horse. It wasn’t long before she trotted off leaving Vincent and Aveyon in an awkward silence.

“You should get some rest; we still have a few days of riding ahead of us. I’ll keep watch for tonight.” Vincent offered.

She wondered if he would be alright with the little sleep he had gotten, but he didn’t seem anywhere near as exhausted as she was. She agreed, surprisingly it didn’t take long for her to drift off.

As the sun rose the next morning, she woke to find Vincent saddling and setting up the one horse that remained. She ate a small loaf of bread hoping to gain some sort of energy from it, as her sleep had not been the most comfortable.

Mounting the horse Vincent reached out his arm for her. Grasping it she hoisted herself up and onto the back of the saddle. Their bodies were pressed incredibly close together but neither said anything. They soon headed off, not wanting to waste any time.

They were getting close to the halfway point of their travel by midday. They had a small stop on the way to a temple that had stories of heavenly beings. They had concluded that it was worth a look at the very least. If there was any resemblance of truth to the story or artefacts, they could send word to Erosvent and have him track the person the tale belonged to.

“So, what exactly does an aura look like?” Vincent asked, he held the reins steady as the horse lightly walked the thin trail through the trees.

Aveyon’s arms were wrapped around his waist so she could steady her balance. She had long since given up on trying to keep her body from rubbing against his back and had simply given in. His warmth was a comforting embrace from the chilled wind.

“In its true form, it is simply a ball of energy, it merges with the host and becomes a part of the body. When the host dies, or the aura is extracted it protects itself by forming a crystal-like sphere to contain its essence.” She explained.

“It sounds alive...” He pondered in wonder.

“In a way, it is. This is only a theory, as I was never told, but I have a feeling that the auras are made from the Alarian ancestor’s souls.” Her mother had hinted to her about such a thing when she was learning about the history of the Alarians not too long before her banishment.

“That’s insane!” Vincent’s eyes widened. “How did the King destroy them if they are pure energy?”

“The energy needs a vessel, so if it is extracted, or the crystal sphere shattered the energy has nowhere to cling onto and dissipates into the air returning to the realms.” She answered. Talking with him like this was quite conformable.

He frowned. “For being so powerful an object they seem... fragile.”

“They are said to be a gift from the Gods. Going by what I was taught, they were created that way intentionally. It was so the vessels they were handed down to would take care of them, and not take them lightly.” She paused for a moment. “The auras were very important to the Alarian people, in the beginning, they were not just a possession. It was said that the auras are the ones that actually choose the bearer. They hold a great deal of power, and for most offer special abilities. It seemed wise that they only attach themselves to those that are worthy of their power, or something to that degree.”

He became lost in the idea of a magical orb choosing its wielder. “What was it like getting yours?” He asked finally.

She thought about that for a moment before answering. “It was... like finding a piece of me that I never knew I had lost. It made me feel whole, warm, almost like I could accomplish anything.” She sighed. “Maybe we Alarian’s learnt to rely on them a little too much. We are nothing but cursed humans without them.”

“Human?” Vincent glanced over his shoulder. “The origin of the Alarians, is human?” He asked.

She laughed softly. “Shocking is it not? Humans are said to not be able to wield essence, but we Alarians were forged from them. The story goes that the gods choose a handful of humans to fight against the demons. They then bestowed upon them powers and abilities to be able to fight the battle and protect the Earth.”

“The auras?” He questioned curiously.

She shrugged. “It seems so, though I can only guess at that; it is merely stories after all.”

Meanwhile, in the third realm...

In a blackened room made from stone, it was damp and cold. The air stagnated, as a demon grimaced bowing in front of a well-decorated throne.

“My lord, she has left the safety of the barrier shielding her.” Lifting his head of ash blonde hair, he looked to his master his eyes glowing a faint red.

An eerie voice echoed throughout the underground chamber. “The Alarian Princess has made her move then.” The dark figure smiles, motioning for his servant to move closer.

The demon appears to stumble forward, landing on his hands and knees in front of the throne.

“The time for our appearance is almost at hand, Damon. Follow your orders and report back, I want to see what they are capable of.”

Damon nods and turns to walk away only to be stopped once again by the lords’ words.

“Be warned, she may be weak but the one with her is not. Kill him if you have to.”

Damon turns facing the throne and bows low, showing no expression on his face at all. “Of course, as you wish lord Ashera.”

As Damon leaves the chamber, the barely dressed women at the lord’s feet giggle. “The boy is so much fun, don’t you think.” One says, causing the figure on the altar to cackle. “He’s one of my most loyal creations, I’ve invested much time into making him the perfect weapon.”

Some of the half-naked women wrap themselves around the lord’s legs and look up at him with lustful-filled eyes. Mouths gagged open as they pleaded with him to pleasure them.

Outside the throne room a scrawny short demon, shaped like a tiny man with horns, runs after the taller demon who had just received his orders. “Lord Damon! Wait!”

Damon flinches at the mention of him being a Lord. He turned around to see the smaller demon running toward him, dragging behind him what looked like a rather large package.

“You’re going to the second realm, yes? The one of humans?” Asks the demon excitedly.

Damon nods in response.

“But with no weapons? Are you sure you don’t desire something to take with you?”

“What did you have in mind, Gesta?” Damon eyed the package.

Gesta seemed to cringe at the use of his name, but he continued. “I’ve repaired your swords since your last fight, even modified them, they can contain more of your essence now.” Gesta unwraps and struggles to hold out two long swords, the dragon inscription engraved on the blades began to glow a soft red as Damon wrapped his hand around the hilt.

“Good luck on your journey Master!” Gesta calls out as Damon makes his way to the chamber containing the fissure to the upper world.

The fissure, that Lord Ashera gave to the demons, allowed most to pass between this realm and the next. The journey could sometimes take its toll on lesser demons and could even result in death in the worst possible case. But for a demon like Damon, it was child’s play.

One only needed a corrupted shard to get back to this hell hole called Terramore. And he had one safely tucked away in the pocket of his jacket. Entering the chamber, he made his way over to the swirling mass of energy in the centre of the room.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Damon muttered as he stepped into the portal to enter the human realm. His body twisted and warped with energy as he was ripped from hell and sent to paradise.