Azarinth Healer

Ilea’s eyes opened wide. “You’re kidding me. You said you wanted to fight him. You said you wanted to help bring him down. All of your knowledge.”

“I am sorry, Val Akuun.”

“We can get you a bigger machine, something stronger with which you can fight. You’d be as powerful as you once were, I’m sure of it,” Ilea said. She didn’t know him well, but after everything he’d been through, she just didn’t see why he would give up without a fight.

Nelras Ithom shook his head. “I died millennia past, in a faraway land. My soul remains, but this is not my form. I cannot feel the blood flowing through my veins, Ilea. I cannot feel the suns on my skin. I am scared of dying, but I do not wish to live, as a mere remnant of who I was. I will die in battle, to the Monarch of the Sunlight Wastes.”

Ilea looked at him, her thoughts racing. The Fourth Tier of Meditation came to life as her perception slowed. She understood his wishes. She really did. They had freed him, but had they really? Perhaps in some way, they had given him a choice. Finally. And now, he chose. She wanted to respect that, just as she had respected the wishes of the Wind of Aveer. He had lost his battle to her, had chosen to be slain. But here, it didn’t feel like he had fought and lost.

No.

It felt like the Architect had won.

After all this time. Imprisoned in some shitty sphere, and now he was here, asking to be killed. A slow death cast through millennia.

She watched as he separated from her, to face the Monarch. Elven words spoken and slowed, reached her ears.

Her eyes went wide, and then she narrowed her gaze. Meditation passed.

“Stop,” Ilea said.

The Monarch looked at her, his sword of bone held in the same casual manner as before.

“I got you out of that sphere,” Ilea said. “Fuck the Architect.”

Nelras turned to look at her. “This is merely the end of my path. You have freed me. Now let me be free.”

“Do you trust me?” Ilea asked.

He looked at her for a long moment. “You are well respected, by beings of all kinds and powers. I respect your power, I respect your titles. I trust you, Lilith.”

“Then let me try one last thing,” she said and read through the skill description of True Reconstruction.

Heals damage to the soul. Restores magical constructs and enchantments. As long as mana and health remains.

“Lose your head, and see for yourself,” she murmured the words and offered her hand to the former Monarch.

He hesitated, glanced at the Ressanoov before he raised his hand, and grabbed her arm.

Ilea grinned. Meditation flared to life. Timeless Perception spiked as she willed it. Her Fourth Tier Reconstruction flowed through her, cosmic energies flaring up and out as she ignored the hisses from the watching elves, glowing light emanating from the Monarch as he raised his sword in a defensive stance.

“I begin,” she said, and flooded her cosmic healing into the very soul of the war machine before her.

A scream resounded but she tuned it out, focusing entirely on what she could perceive before her. With her Soul Perception, her healing, her domain, her eyes, and her Fabric Alteration. Nothing happened at first, but after two seconds, the niameer steel splintered in a resounding crack. A fissure ran down the war machine’s chest, followed by webbing cracks. Fluctuations, she felt. His soul was there, warring, with the form he was given, and the form he had once been.

Splinters of steel shot off, digging into sand and glancing off Ilea’s armor. She stepped closer to him now, the scream gone, the light in the war machine’s eyes flickering. She could feel the chaos, the warring forces of her own magic and the very form of his body. It tore him apart, piece by piece. She would let him. But she needed more control.

“Shut your eyes, elves of the Sunlight Wastes. This Flame is not for you,” she sent and waited one more second, her perception spiking yet again before she activated Sunbound Creation. The Fourth Tier flared to life with the bright and glowing light of the Primordial Flame, but she ignored it, feeling her own reality shaped into life. She willed her flames towards the former Monarch, extending her spell as he too was engulfed in her creation.

She could see and feel, the fabric and her cosmic powers tearing him apart. And then she pulled. She pulled at the steel casing sheltering his soul. His very essence fused within. Slowly, piece by piece, she pulled away the metal, reigning in the forces threatening to rip his form apart. Ilea was no soul mage, but she could see, could feel, the essence that he was. She could not shape it, pull or push, but she could pull and push everything else. All she had to do was open up a path. And so she did, piece by piece, first his right arm, then his left leg, then his head, until only half of the niameer chest frame remained. The path was free, she could feel it.

Her heart beat.

Twice.

And then she felt it. A pulse. A will to live!

Flesh surged out, born from mana pure and uncaring as the cosmos itself. A beating heart and muscle filled the frame of steel.

She reigned in her spreading grin and the joy she felt within her chest as she refocused, pulling free the bits and pieces of steel that yet remained, opening the path and ripping away the prison bit by bit, as flesh grew and formed, bone, then muscle, arms, and skin to cover everything. A skull formed before her, bone, filled in by muscle and flesh, blonde hair spread out within her own reality, and finally, she stared into two eyes of gold.

For a split second, they locked eyes, surrounded by the Primordial Flames. And then her spells waned, falling away as she fell to one knee, breathing hard to find her mana sitting below half.

Before her, she saw the collapsing form of an elf, catching him with expanding ash that came into existence at her will. She grinned, still breathing heavily. “I’ve never given birth, but holy shit that was a pain.”

Golden eyes looked at her as the elf moved his arm and closed his hand into a fist. A light, radiant and bright, shimmering with dense power and perfect control, came to life. He looked at it and smiled, tears streaming down his cheeks before the light vanished and he looked at her. “Not Monarch,” he spoke, as if tasting the words. “But Oracle yourself.”

She stood up and raised him up as well. “Human. Still. Just with some cool magic,” Ilea said with a smile and turned to look at the downright petrified Monarch. “I don’t suppose you have a spare set of clothes?”

Ilea waited as the elves joined, speaking in whispers and hisses, awe and excitement present, only the Monarch meeting her eyes. They offered clothing for Nelras Ithom as Ilea checked the messages in her mind.

‘ding’ ‘You have brought back the true form of a former Monarch – One Core skill point awarded’

‘ding’ ‘You have awed the Oracles of the Sunlight Wastes – One Core skill point awarded’

‘ding’ ‘New title available’

- Val el Ceroth [A bringer of life. Your harmony with living things is increased]

Whatever the fuck that means, Ilea thought. She was a little annoyed at the vague description. Did this one mean she could heal living things better? Control them better? She didn’t exactly want to switch to a title that turned out to be useless, just to be stuck with it for an entire week.

Nelras Ithom was dressed in a simple white robe. His long blonde hair glowed ever so slightly. His skin was bronze, his eyes golden. Slowly, he touched his shoulder.

“How do you feel?” Ilea asked.

“I…” He looked up at the suns, closed his eyes and hissed. A deep, resonating sound. “I feel.”

“Yeah, but how?” Ilea said, though she smiled to herself.

He grinned and looked at her. “I feel alive, Ilea. I feel, free.”

“So you don’t want to fight the Monarch anymore?” she asked.

Ilea had intended it as a joke but the nearby elves fanned out, the Monarch himself standing with his sword raised. She looked at Nelras Ithom.

[Light Mage – lvl 1228]

Nelras looked around at the flying elves, at the suns, and then to the Monarch. “This place was once my home. Long ago, I was Monarch, of the Sunlight Wastes.” He looked at Ilea. “Today I came here to die, and yet, I was reborn. I do not know you, Monarch,” he said, glancing at the other elf. “And I do not recognize any of the faces here.” He paused. “The world is changing. And I do not wish to return to the old world I had once known. No. I wish to step forward, and find new purpose, in the new.”

His magic flared as he looked up, then to the Monarch before him. “I do not claim the title of Monarch. Nor will I reside here, in the Sunlight Wastes. We came here, to warn of Ker Velor, and his return to this realm in which we all were born.

“And I will fight,” he said and looked at Ilea, a grin coming to his face. “As I stand, with blood running through my veins. I will fight.”

“Great speech. You stunned them,” Ilea said and clapped. “Tell me again how you lost to Ker Velor with that insane level?”

His grin vanished. “I told you, he does not fight with honor.”

Ilea raised her brows. “Sure. Feels like you fucked up big time, ex Monarch.”

“Are you mocking me?” he asked.

“Is it working?” Ilea said with a grin. “You seem strong. Do you need gear or should we have a go?”

“You… no. I finally feel again. I do not wish to feel humiliation right after getting back my form. You will have your bout, but not yet. Let us speak with the Oracles.”

Ilea sighed. “Sure. You handle the talking.”

“I will,” he said. “I had given up hope that this would ever come to pass. Let us see, if they remember me.”

The current Monarch joined them as Nelras Ithom flew down into the desert.

Ilea didn’t know what to expect, but found him simply sitting down in the sands, his eyes closed as his magic flowed out.

A pulse soon answered, but Ilea did not hear nor perceive any words being spoken. And still, she could feel a presence all around. As if the ground itself was permeated.

Similar to the swamp, she thought.

Some time later, Nelras stood up and took in a deep breath.

“Got anywhere?” Ilea asked.

“They recognize the danger, but offer only to react. As was expected,” he said and locked eyes with her. “Yet I do not wish to react only, nor to take their guidance as rule.”

“They would accept you now, wouldn’t they?”

“Perhaps they would. But I have seen the Accords. As I told you, Ilea. A lot of questions have been raised. I did not expect for this to happen, but now that I am here, I wish to find answers. And I do not think that I will find them here.” He paused and slowly went down to one knee, hisses resounding from the few other elves present. “Lilith. I know you do not speak for the Accords, and I will address them too, but this is not for them, but you. I will fight by your side, against Ker Velor, or any other threat this realm may face. Will you have me?”

“I’ll gladly have you fight by my side, Nelras. But do get up, this all feels a bit formal. You know that I have a girlfriend already.”

He grinned and stood up. “You have a way to diminish the gravity of events and rituals. Perhaps that is why beings do not recognize you as the true monster that you are.”

“No. It’s the human disguise I wear,” Ilea said and smiled. “You want to go back? Talk to the Meadow and Aki first, I suggest. They’ll be more open to accommodate you than most of the Accords I suspect.”

He hissed with a sigh. “I suppose I should be glad for the Cerithil Hunters, and the foolish actions of the former Sanvaruun.”

“The Accords are getting more used to elven kind,” Ilea said and addressed the Ressanoov. “Thank you for the friendly welcome. I enjoyed seeing your domain.”

He hissed. “To see that flame, and to feel your power, Monarch. You are always welcome here.”

Nelras exchanged a few words with the Monarch in elvish before he turned to Ilea.

She opened a gate to the North and stepped through, the elf following behind.

“Welcome back,” the Meadow spoke. “You brought another elf I see. The Monarch of the Light Domain?”

“Former,” Ilea said. “I did a thing.”

“A thing. She says,” the Meadow spoke, a sigh rippling through reality itself.

Three days later, Ilea once again watched Felicia fight. This time in an underground swamp below the Northern Plains.

Ilea mimicked the movements of attacks Felicia used when she felt something appear within the fabric. She smiled, feeling something rest onto her right shoulder.

“Been a while since you showed up,” she said. “You missed a few good fights. Tons of violence, I tell you.”

Mean.

“You were busy?” she asked.

Busy.

Talks

With

Fae

Conclusion

Uncertain

Frustration

She patted the small faen creature on her shoulder and smiled. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. How are you? Besides frustrated?”

The Fae on her shoulder lost its tension as it drooped down onto its belly, arms and legs dangling off her shoulder.

“That bad, huh? At least there’s some violence here,” she said, nodding towards the battling Felicia. Granted, it wasn’t as much of a spectacle than a dragon fight, but she felt there was a note of raw survival present that made the battles exciting. The last time she had experienced something similar was perhaps the Blood Oracle she had fought in the Cursed Marshes.

Maybe it’s just swamps.

Violence, the Fae sent, though the energy in its words were not quite there.

“Maybe this will cheer you up?” Ilea asked and summoned a speck of yellow fire, the creation hovering in front of her as she made it dance from left to right.

Violence sat up and rubbed its large eyes, looked between Ilea and the flame, then kept its focus on the fire for a long while.

“Do you like it?” she asked. “I knew you’d like it.”

The Fae didn’t reply.

Ilea made the flame vanish. “Are you okay?”

The Baron nodded. Ok. He looked at her for a long moment. Show to Fae?

“You mean you want me to come to your home?” Ilea sent. It had certainly been some time. “I’m happy to show the flame to your cluster, but are you sure it’s safe for me?”

Violence tilted his head to the side. Confusion.

“I mean I can probably perceive a lot more now,” she said.

Safe

Healing

Strong

Ilea

Strong

“I suppose I am,” she said and grinned. “So is this an official date, or what?”

Felicia teleported closer and looked at them with one eyebrow raised, blood and mud on her armor and face. “What are you two planning?”

The three headed cobra behind her slithered closer.

“Stay focused on your fight, darling,” Ilea said and waved her off.

“Baron, I’m warning you!” Felicia shouted as her arms were engulfed by vibrating air, the cobra slithering around her before she teleported again to avoid a bite into her shoulder.

Violence nodded. Violence.

“She’s doing her best,” Ilea sent and smiled. “She’s great, isn’t she.”

Violent

Yes

But

Not

Dense

Ilea plucked the Fae from her shoulder and dangled it in front of her face. “Don’t insult my girlfriend. She’s perfectly dense.”

Apology, the Baron sent, drooping from her fingers.

“Apology accepted,” Ilea said and smiled, placing the Baron back on her shoulder. “Let’s watch her kill that thing and then we can talk about visiting your home. Maybe Felicia can join as well? Might provide some achievements for her as well.”

She

saw

flame?

“Not yet. But you make a good point. Might add another set of achievements,” Ilea said, rubbing her chin as she watched the ferocious berserker mage rip into the thick skin of the mud cobra. And I should introduce her to the four mark machines in Iz… and Gael… and Garonoth.

Felicia cut through two necks at once before jumping back, glancing at Ilea. “I feel watched!” She dodged a wild lunge of the cobra before screaming and teleporting above it.

“Well yes. I am watching you. Young Ber-serker.”

Felicia cut into the back of the creature before she ran along its tail, slicing through the length of it before she slowed to a stop. The cobra slapped into the mud with a wet sound. Unmoving.

[Wind Mage – lvl 273]

The wonders that all the resources of the Accords can do for you. And you’re an Imperial Major at that, Ilea thought with a grin, watching the approaching woman as she cleaned her face off some of the grime. “Love is a terrible power, don’t you think?”

Felicia raised her brows, then grinned. “You said the word.”

Ilea smiled. “Felt right.”

Felicia hugged her, blood and mud smearing onto Ilea’s quickly spreading ash scale armor, Violence jumping off into a hover to avoid the splash.

Ilea received a kiss, tasting blood. Neither of theirs. “Not even venom.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, Dragonslayer,” Felicia said and let go.

“Got energy for another?” Ilea asked.

“I think I’m spent for now,” Felicia said, resting her arms on her knees. “Short break?”

Ilea watched her.

“I don’t like that look in your eyes,” Felicia murmured.

“We’ll take a short trip on that break,” Ilea said, her grin wide.

“Everything for those achievements,” Felicia said and cracked her knuckles, stretching her arms and back before she rolled her shoulders. “I’ll face it, whatever it is.”

Violence landed on Ilea’s shoulder.

Ilea smiled and deactivated her Space Magic Resistance. “Your eyes are yet to see, young human.”