NOVEL NEXT B3 CH 6 - Ruler of Anguish
Osenthar von Karth did what the others could not, and for that, I do not trust him. If there is one thing I've learned in my venture into the Ark'Ennir Citadel, it is that the Maker has never failed before. Not in the grand scale of the ages.
–Nerovian Orenn, Virien of the fallen House of Amethyst Dragons
Draven lay in one of the comfortable beds of the Elysian Breeze Inn, his sight on the darkoak ceiling. The ornate lightspheres etched in the wood were unlit, but he needed no light to see the deep grain in the wood. The pattern in those curvy, wavy lines almost seemed designed to invite the guests of the inn to a peaceful sleep.
Sleep, huh? A sigh escaped his lips. It had been a year since he had needed it. Ever since reaching the Ascendance stage, Draven no longer required sleep. Put that with his enhanced Durability provided by the Az'Tenri Circlet, and he would rarely tire. That was fine, great even. Sleep brought nothing but nightmares.
The ambush from the Magisterium Arcana had given him a lot to think about. Navron understood the Maker had left the Haven, yet his faith—his honor—demanded he continue to serve the Blooded Decree to the very end. It was admirable, though foolish. What was honor worth if you had to stand and watch as the people you cared about died one by one?
With a thought, Morph summoned the Scripture in front of Draven's eyes. He tried to ignore the blue glow, the text that all but blocked the beautiful pattern of the wood, but he couldn't. Not with Morph's intent ringing inside his skull like a bell.
I told you this before, Morph, I'm not using that. Draven waved the text away from his sight. Morph brought it back.
A weapon is a weapon, Aiden. Morph hummed in disappointment. Refuse to use it against your foes, and it will be used against you. I told you this before, the Dyad Vessel's evolution does not define you—
"Of course it does! That is literally what a Providence is, and you know it. Dyad Vessel was born because Travor almost whipped me to death. At first, it only unleashed suffering, but now it reflects injuries." Draven felt shame rising inside his chest. "I hated them so much for what they did to me. I wanted to make they pay—to watch them suffer. That's why it evolved into… this." Draven willed the text to expand in front of him.
DYAD VESSEL
PURITY [LESSER]
RULER OF ANGUISH
Hail the man who trod upon death. Hail the man who bent pain to his will. Hail the Ruler of Anguish.
Morph manifested on top of his chest as a small red serpent. "It's what you asked for, Aiden. Why do you feel upset at having been granted it?"
"I was a child, Morph. A kid. I was angry at the Sovrans—at everyone. I lashed out, hurt as many people as I could." Draven tried to remember the face of his mother to no avail. "To what end? You can't change men if all you do is reflect what they do to you."
"Is this about that Navron fellow?" Morph asked, his voice soft.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
"Perhaps," Draven admitted. "He was just a man following what he thinks is right."
"Not every man is redeemable. Surely you don't believe Travor or Arzhan are deserving of forgiveness." Morph hissed in anger. His feelings toward the Evoker who once served House Orenn were caustic on a good day. "That sniveling coward. I'll find him one day!"
"There are good and bad people. From what Nerovian said, Arzhan had a family. He was a father." Draven congealed a droplet of blood in the air. It hovered, following his will, as if the winds carried it on its predetermined path. "I'm the same. I killed those guards in the Amethyst Palace without sparing their corpses a glance."
"That's different." Morph frowned. The expression looked a little off-putting in a serpent's face. "They deserved it."
"They deserved death for doing their job?" Draven chuckled, but there was no laughter in his lungs. "I killed them because I could, Morph. Nothing more. Nothing less. I killed them because it was easy. But taking the easy path is what brought the Haven to where it is now—a race divided into those who rule because power allows them and those who dream of revenge against their oppressors."
"Refusing to use your authority as the Ruler of Anguish is your way of ending it? It won't change things, Aiden. You know it. You've seen it firsthand; people don't want to change. Change is scary." Morph stared at him, puzzled.
"I never thought about what my mother would think of me, not before her memory was erased—stolen from me. I don't remember her face. I don't remember her voice. Would she look at what I've become with pride or fear in her eyes?"
Morph fell silent.
SEVERER
Forged from the soul of Asthagon, Keeper of the Sixfold Corridor, The One Who Watches, The Third Heir of Creation, it severs its user from the Tides of Fate. Sacrifice for salvation. May this weapon serve you well, old friend.
For a year, Draven had read the symbols in the blue window, yet his questions had only grown more pronounced. He had met Asthagon once, before he died. Surely that didn't warrant him the title of friend. A friend to a Sha'Vitri. It was hard to think of the Keeper of the Sixfold Corridor as anything but the kin of the being that threatened to destroy the Haven, though he had shown nothing but kindness in their first—and only—encounter.
"Are you ready to attempt the merger?" Morph asked, yet his mind still silently pondered the previous dilemma.
"Yes, nothing will come of waiting longer. We've honed our skills, our bond, enough." Draven willed the Scripture to unfold. "There is nothing more for us but the Path ahead."
DRAVEN VON ASTRAIS
REC: PYRE HEART [+100]
DUR: CRIMSON BODY [+100]
ART: HEMOMORPH'S MANTLE, CRIMSON AEGIS [2/2]
Draven closed his eyes and appeared as a projection within his soul. The giant astra burned with crimson and black fire, while strands of crimson lightning arched around it. He hovered in front of it, pondering the information he had gathered from the countless manuals he had spent the last year studying.
The Eminence stage was hard to break through, as opening meridians meant a risk of death to every Empyrean that attempted to reach their hands and grasp for power. But the Ascendance stage was where the majority of those who walked the Paths saw themselves truly stuck. The stage wasn't about power, talent, or predisposition. It was about understanding. Unity.
Peace.
He had done his best to come to terms with who he was—what he had become. By the dead gods and the Haven, let that be enough. The power he now wielded sufficed to overcome most Empyreans in Elysium, but it fell short of the man who made the Abyss his own, of the foe who destroyed the Old World.
Draven knew that wasn't a gap hexion alone could overcome, but today he would take the first step to true power. With a steady and determined heart, he allowed his will to envelop his soul.