Herald of death

Ethan looks at the sky, noting once again the absence of flying creatures. Extremely large and tall, the towers of the castle loom over them, projecting long shadows. It still seems far, a few hours at least. Ethan's eyes have grown heavy over the last hour, his need for sleep finally catching up.

'Midnight,' Ethan notes, looking at his disconnected phone. Russ sleeps deeply on Ethan's back. He looks around, his gaze falling on an alcove carved in a cliff-sized rock. No human presence is in the area. 'That's the safest spot we've seen thus far. If my body was only ignoring the effects of sleep deprivation, I could soon experience hallucinations. I need to rest.'

'Off,' Ethan orders. Russ raises his head and shakes it. After jumping down, he follows Ethan as he ascends to the alcove. It is deep enough to be called a cavern, offering a single-entry point shelter. Ethan scans it through predator's sight and then stares at the Ether, searching for movements that never come. He sits down, his back against the farthest wall. Exhausted, Russ falls on the side, stretching his legs before closing his eyes.

"I guess I have to take a watch until you wake up from your coma," Ethan mutters. He summons the book he bought in Opal and opens it for the first time. 'The fall of the eternal kingdom: 800 years of Aldorian history.'

Recalling the same symbol from Elowen's sanctuary, Ethan traces his finger on the Wyvern insignia woven onto the cover. The first few chapters detail the early days of Aldoria – a fragmented continent containing Opal.

The current calendar begins at Aldoria’s founding, but the book speaks of events that occurred long before that. Those initial chapters recount the existence of countless small territories ruled by warlords. It was an era of perpetual conflict, where borders shifted with each passing year.

Amid this chaos, a man of no renown emerged from a distant corner of the continent. Aranthor Elarion was barely more than a boy when he slew the warlord who had oppressed him. This first conquest was the first of a long crusade against all Aldoria's rulers. Everywhere he went, he inspired others to join his cause, building an unstoppable force.

In less than a decade, he conquered all of Aldoria, a feat no ruler had ever accomplished. But the hero soon revealed himself to be a tyrant. He chose the most powerful of his army to be the executors of his will — a will bent on controlling everything. He outlawed all religions, burned the temples of every god, and hunted down anyone who prayed in secret. Yet his reign is remembered as the safest period in history, with no notable calamities.

King Elarion remained on the throne for five hundred years until he left on a solitary journey south in search of power and riches. It is believed to have led to his demise. Not long after his disappearance, Orcs surged into Aldoria through portals, conquering it in less time than Aranthor had taken.

After the fall of Kingsreach — then the capital of Aldoria and now the capital of Valloria — the God of War appeared, enabling humanity to fight back. Legend has it that the war itself gave birth to Balthor. With his guidance, new heroes fought back against the green tide, forcing the surviving Orcs to flee to the southern continent of Kharsis.

'The soldiers I fought with gave their lives for a savior that never arrived. At least mankind won in the end,' Ethan thinks. He feels a pull on his mind, a vision that beacons him. He checks the surroundings with predator's sight and lets it swallow his consciousness.

A room appears, stretching wide and high, its stone walls draped in shadows. Torches mounted along the perimeter flicker, creating dim lights. An emerald glow emanates from towering crystal pillars, each holding swirling souls. The sight pinches Ethan's heart. How many people is that? He feels like he could discern thousands of faces.

An astronomical apparatus dominates the core of the room – a labyrinth of interconnected, metal spheres and rings. It moves languidly in ever-shifting orbits around a central altar. A necklace levitates above it – the same complete necklace Ethan's father died for. A surge of hope urges him to approach, and as he does, he sees two figures standing opposite from the altar.

One bears an armor of gold, while the other's is of the darkest blacks. Swords rest at their sides as they talk, their voices barely whispers to Ethan's ears until he reaches them. The armors they wear are airtight, composed of small plates moving on each other in perfect articulation.

"You could have done right by the people the day you slew the last king. But no, you had to continue the cycle and take the throne for yourself!" the black knight accuses. His left arm motions violently as he speaks. "I trusted you, Aranthor, and you betrayed me. You betrayed all of us!"

"You don’t understand," Aranthor says, his sword posed at his side. "I shouldered mankind for centuries, protecting them from–"

Black interrupts, "You call that protecting?! You made them weak, unable to choose for themselves, forever bound to your will. Our armies would have crushed the green skins and brought the fight to their world. But today! They are overwhelmed, on the brink of total defeat. If our enemies of old saw what we became, they would laugh at our weakness."

'So, he was still alive when the Orcs were attacking,' Ethan notes. As expected, he should copiously doubt anything he reads about their history.

"It's not too late!" Aranthor booms. He circles the altar, the black knight answering at the same pace. "If you stop this madness, we will drive the Orcs off our world! There is no need to destroy theirs or even invade it. Close the gates! With the both of us, exterminating those who remain will be over before dusk."

The black knight aims his blade at Aranthor. "I will not allow your reign to endure."

"The people you seek to save from me are dying because of your actions," Aranthor accuses. "You are a hypocrite and a fool."

"The strong will survive," the black knight retorts. "There's no point in talking any further. History will decide who's right."

"I don't care who thinks I'm right," Aranthor mutters. He bursts forward, swinging his blade as he passes the levitating pendant. Black deflects his attack and answers with a downward slash.

Aranthor kicks black in the back. He moved with a speed Ethan couldn't perceive. He didn't make a sound, didn't create a blur, and didn't move the air. Black flies through the room to crash into the opposite wall.

"You are holding back," black growls. He jumps down to the ground. "Why? Do you hope that you can spare the last person that remembers you as anything else than a tyrant?"

"You've been by my side in the darkest hours of our lives. Caelum, you are a brother to me," Aranthor says. "I understand how it seems, but if you trust me, I can promise you that our dream, your dream, will come true."

"Then make me trust you!" Caelum orders. "How could I, after all this time, after all you've done, when you keep your so-called plans to yourself?! There was a part of me who yearned to believe you, an ember of trust; but you snuffed it out."

Howling souls escape the crystal pillars and seep into the medallion. It shines with a blinding light, Ether so dense it manifests to the naked eye. Aranthor bursts forward to swing at the pendant. Caelum does the same, parrying Aranthor's blade before it reaches its target.

The air splits between them, their auras fighting against each other's. Sparks fly off their blades as they maneuver to create an opening. Caelum says, "Even now you restrain yourself. If they really mattered to you, you'd have killed me by now; I know you could."

The medallion spins, the light it emits turning into thin threads coalescing into a crystal shard. Aranthor hurls his left hand at the medallion, urging Caelum to do the same. Their gauntlets close around the pendant, twisting its light as their auras clash with a thundering crack. Bringing new lights to the room, tears form in the space around them, showing an endless void akin to outer space.

Blinding light fills Ethan's sight, vanishing along the two knights, the tears, and the pendant. The crystal shard the medallion was forming breaks into dust that falls onto the altar. Its fragments melt the stone, turning into specks of lava.

'I saw this exact shard in my vision,' Ethan thinks. He climbs the stairs to the altar. Could it be that this medallion is the one that found its way to Earth? Ethan glances everywhere, trying to find a clue as to where he is.

A shiver travels through his spine as if something were watching him. The shadows of the room spread, throwing it into darkness as the torches die and the souls dim.

"A pity," a voice mutters from the darkness. It is deep, commanding, and carries a sinister edge.

Noise grows in Ethan's ears, blended with thousands of foreign whispers. His sight darkens, and his heart races. His body reacts as if the entity were an immediate danger to his life. Is it? Can this thing wound his body or his soul through a vision? Forcefully closing his eyes, Ethan tries to wake himself up.

A pair of red eyes shine in Ethan's sight, carved into his eyelids. The voice appears above the noise, silencing it with theatrical arrogance. "All this power turned into specks of dust. Ho, how wrathful would you be seeing yourself? The thought alone delights me. Now, shall we return you home?"

Leaping to his feet and gasping for air, Ethan returns to the present. The book fell in his abrupt movement, losing the page he was at. Russ lifts his head; he stares at Ethan with a look begging to rest longer.

"Don't worry, we aren't going anywhere," Ethan says. His heart still races, and his body sweats profusely, pearling onto the cavern's ground. He grabs the book and closes it. The images of his vision flash in his mind as he tries to commit every detail to memory. Anger sparks as he thinks, 'If the medallion found his way to Earth, then one of them could be Hayes, and the other my father's killer.'

Ethan replays their dialog in his mind, hoping to trigger Maelor's memory. The only thing he feels is the exhaustion that washes over him as the adrenaline recedes. He sits back down and places the book into his inventory. Russ seems rested enough to both sleep and watch; Ethan closes his eyes.

'It's getting complicated,' Ethan thinks. Frustration takes him. He's undeniably getting closer, but each step forward, each question answered, asks several more. His mind grows dull, and he lets himself go, falling into slumber.