by Jason Alan
“How will you fight him?” Vu Verian asked. “With all due respect, are your powers not limited when beyond range of Vren Adiri’s realm? Frankly, I was surprised you were able to reach out and bring us here.”
The angel stepped back, her radiance brightening and expanding. “Yes, it is true: my powers have waned. But it is not I who will fight the necromancer. There is another, someone not of Phate. I will call to the stars, and he will come.”
Vu Verian muttered, “Of whom do you speak?”
“I speak of the ageless defender of the universe, of the last centurion of the stars, of the warrior from before time.”
The sky elf gasped, “A centurion still exists?”
Morigos shook his staff. “He will not come here! With your Gods gone, this world has fallen out of favor. Light and dark, good and evil, we are all imperiled!”
“It is because of this imperilment that he will come!” the Fallen Angel declared. “For we do not just speak of the destruction of this world, but of all worlds! I still have some influence over the heavens. As a star’s light travels, so will my voice. He will hear me, and he will come. I swear it…”
Vu Verian stepped forward. “Even if you can find him, even if he comes, suppose this warrior fails? If Syndreck successfully breaches the dimensional walls, you expect us three to fight the Dark Forever alone?” He motioned to Drinwor and Morigos. “Surassis is mighty in legend, but can it hold off an entire dimension of demons? What chance do we have?”
The angel’s wings unfolded, her arms raised, and the phantom flutes accentuated her words as she said, “You will not fight alone. In the Hall of Voices, you will find not only Drakana, but the spirits of all the dragons who have passed from our world in the last thousand years. Indeed, as I’ve indicated, the forces of light are gathering, and thus the spirit dragons of Phate await you. Go to the hall and see that the light that defends all things is not as weak as you presume.”
“And you will see that the power of the Dark Forever is as endless and undying as the blackness of the universe,” Morigos shot back.
And with that, all fell silent as the mage’s prophetic words echoed to the top of the chamber.
The most lethal words are those that go unspoken.
Slayzian
Spy, Commander of Moorgrey Thake’s Cyclops Slave Riders
The day drew closer to dusk, the coming night lingering like a dark thought in the back of the world’s mind. In Ulith Urn, Syndreck the Brooding continued gathering his strength, reviving his necromantic abilities; while in Vren Adiri, the elder elves’ continued their tireless conversing about…well, about everything (including their misgivings with each other). The Fallen Angel repeatedly reminded them all to have faith, to not kill each other, and to concentrate solely on delivering the Sunsword to the Hall of Voices.
Our dear Drinwor spent the latter half of the day in silence. He just stared at the ceiling, his eyes lost in the clouds while the others chattered around him. He had heard them mention his name a few times, but he hadn’t paid particularly close attention to what was spoken about. His own thoughts had kept him plenty occupied. Sometimes he’d thought about the Sunsword and everything the angel had revealed to him, but mostly he’d spent the afternoon thinking about his father.
His father, gone forever.
It was still sinking in.
It was beyond despair…
Now, outside, evening took hold, and the Sun’s Remembrance dimmed to resemble something like a moon. As the interior clouds darkened and the glint of dragon scales disappeared, Drinwor worried that certain memories of his father were slipping away with the day. He struggled just to see his father’s face in his mind’s eye. After a minute’s concentration, he could only recall one still image of him, as if his father’s portrait had been stamped upon the edges of his memory. In this mental picture, his father was looking aside, his expression serene yet serious, as if he held some hope against the likelihood of doom.
Yes, that one image was all Drinwor could presently see. He deemed his father deserved far better than this, so he strained to fill his mind with as many visions of him as he could.
A short time later, a brightening light appeared right before him, rousing him from his thoughts. It was the Fallen Angel, glowing brilliantly against the duskiness of all else. Drinwor looked around, only then realizing how late it had become. The marble floor was strewn with shadows, and Vu Verian and Morigos were gone.
“Where are the others?” Drinwor asked.
“They’ve retired for the evening. Vu Verian seemed especially anxious to escape the night’s darkness. After all this time, I’m surprised he is still so bound to sunlight. He assumed cloudform a while ago, and now slumbers over our heads.” The angel pointed to a silvery cloud that hovered halfway up the tower, then swept her arm to the side. “Morigos was shown to a bedchamber. It may be the last time he gets to rest in comfort for quite a while.”
Drinwor smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t even notice them leave.”
“Nevertheless, they both wished Emperor Fang a goodnight, and they look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning. I bid you to retire as well, but first I wanted to tell you something.”
“Oh?”
“I want you to know that I have all the faith in the universe in you.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I do. Within you resides incredible strength and power.”
“I don’t feel strong,” Drinwor whispered.
The angel further brightened. “Oh, but you are! You were created from the universe’s very soul, your spirit molded in the fires of the oldest stars. I tell you, you are stronger than you know. And with the Sunsword Surassis resurrected and in your hands, there is no force of darkness that can defeat you. Believe in yourself, Drinwor Fang. Believe that you can do extraordinary things, and you will.”
“Until this day, I’d never even stepped foot from Areshria, and now I’m the ‘Savior of the Universe.’” Drinwor chuckled, then let out a long, descending whistle. “Me, fighting the Dark Forever. It’s unimaginable.”
“You were created for this. You’re more than capable, you just haven’t discovered your abilities. Your father believed in you, and so do I.”
“My father…” Drinwor exhaled, tilted his head to the side. “I’ve been waiting all day to ask you: why didn’t he say anything?”
The angel’s surging radiance fluxed as she gazed into Drinwor’s pleading eyes. “He meant to, he really did. It’s complicated, difficult to explain exactly why he didn’t say anything, but he just couldn’t bring himself to burden you. He wanted your life to be happy, wanted you to feel safe, to not have to think on any of this for as long as possible. And then it all began—the gauntlets, Warloove, the appearance of the shards…” She sighed. “By then I don’t think he knew how to tell you. Such little time is allotted to mortals…such precious little time.” The angel paused, as she saw the glint of emotion flickering in Drinwor’s eyes. Then she softly said, “He just wanted to protect you, protect your happiness and well-being for as long as he could. He bore so much in his life, so much… Please don’t be angry with him, not now.”
Drinwor sniffled, blinked his eyes, and fought to withhold an ocean of tears. “I’m not angry,” he whispered. “I could never be angry with him. But I’m suffocated by sadness. Somehow, I knew we wouldn’t be together forever, but I just wish he would’ve told me. Told me anything of this. I could have dealt with it, and maybe even helped him.”
“He feared for your life. He didn’t want you to get involved with Warloove.”
Warloove.
With the utterance of that name, grim shadows passed over Drinwor’s face and anger darkened his eyes to near black. Through gritted teeth, he swore: “I’ll kill him. I don’t know how I’ll react to the perils ahead, to the Dark Forever or whatever else is in store; but I swear I will have no fear of that demon or dark elf or whatever he is…”
To this, the angel said nothing.
> Drinwor bowed his head.
As he watched the Fallen Angel’s reflection flicker upon the shiny floor, his mind smoldered with hate. Oh, how the mere mention of the name Warloove riled him! He grumbled incoherently, and slapped his arms to his sides and closed his eyes as if in an effort to escape his rage.
After a short time, he sensed the Fallen Angel’s soothing presence close to him, and his anger subsided. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to see her radiance surrounding him like a heavenly golden cloud.
Drinwor chuckled sardonically. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel or react to any of this, honestly. I’m angry at Warloove, sad about my father, and scared at what lies ahead. I believe you when you tell me what I am; I’ve always known I wasn’t ‘normal.’ But I don’t believe I’m as strong as you think. I just can’t picture defeating Nen… Nenock—whatever in the Dark Forever he’s called! I mean, I’m not completely inept with a sword, but…ah, I don’t know. I just don’t understand how I can possibly do all of this.”
“You will understand,” the Fallen Angel assured, “when you learn more about yourself. With experience will come wisdom, and from that wisdom will come confidence. I know you are grieving, and I know you have doubts, but for now, take comfort in this: you are capable of anything you set your heart to, I promise you.”
“My heart…” Drinwor clutched at the space before his chest. “My heart was lost the moment Vu Verian told me about my father.”
“You will find it again, and you will mend, when the grief settles.”
“Will it ever settle?” Drinwor stared at her with desperate eyes.
“It will…it will.”
Drinwor’s mouth spread into a sad little smile. “It doesn’t feel like it.” He ran his hand through his hair, perhaps in an effort to smooth away all the conflicting feelings that battled for dominance in the forefront of his mind. If only it was that easy. He took a deep breath, considered for a moment, then steered the conversation toward something else.
“Earlier you spoke of help in the coming conflict, of spirit dragons in waiting; but I must ask: where are all the wizards and warriors of the world? Aren’t there any armies to battle the Dark Forever? I’ve seen so little of Phate, but what I have seen seems so empty. In a way, it all reminds me of the halls of my home.”
The Fallen Angel nodded. “The world is empty. It is from the effects of war, war and time. I shall tell you more about this, more about Phate.” She stretched her wings to their full extension and lifted into the air, suspending herself many feet from the floor. Ripples of golden light radiated from her as she loosed these melodious words: “Once, long ago, Phate was the most wondrous place in all the universe. Constructed by the galaxy’s most powerful sorcerers, this world gleamed in the eyes of the Gods. It was a world of hope and imagination, a world of endless possibilities, where dragons and dreams were tightly intertwined. Many ages passed with prosperity, and all beings flourished in peace.
“But alas, such goodness and grace cannot forever go unchallenged, for the darkest things go after that which is most bright. One day, Phate was infiltrated by evil. Sinister minds arose from the most serene places. Demons came from other dimensions. Aliens visited their afflictions upon the residents of this planet, and the burdens of mistrust and hate weighed upon all. Over time, peace unraveled. Beings once unified were divided, and all suffered with the outbreak of countless wars. These dark times took their toll. Phate’s beauty and wonder were lost.
“And worst of all, hope became a thing remembered, not a thing realized…” With this, the angel paused.
“And then what happened?” Drinwor was transfixed, fascinated, for he so desperately wanted to know more about the world his father had hidden from him.
“And then, a mere thousand years ago, the final war came, the last conflict with the Dark Forever, when what was left of the great civilizations was totally destroyed. Where are the armies, the warriors, you wonder? When the Dark Forever came, the Ironskull dwarves disappeared, their silver forges purged from the Mountains of Might. The shadowlight elves, with their invisible wizards and flights of translucent dragons, were driven from their crystal forests and wiped into extinction. Vu Verian’s people, the sky elves, defeated and reeling, abandoned Phate for the stars, seeking solace on some distant world. And the deep elves, their minds over time delving into darkness as their cities sank into the seas, forsook the light that birthed them and claimed allegiance to the demon lords. Now they are as good as gone…
“Yes, Drinwor, Phate’s history is a story of tremendous loss. It’s a terrible shame. So many civilizations, so many cities…crumbled like the pages of the books that held their accounts.”
With a thoughtful look on his face, Drinwor asked, “If the destruction was so complete, then how come the Dark Forever isn’t here? I mean…it sounds like they won.”
The angel seemed to exhale as if with mortal breath. “Just as defeat was imminent, Drakana, the One Life, unleashed the full power of the One Sword. A great blast issued forth, countless millions of demons were slain, and what was left of the Devil King’s army was forced back into the Dark Forever. But, as the fates would have it, when Surassis expelled its energy, the Devil King himself had not yet fully stepped into the primary universe. He was wounded and banished, but not destroyed. And thus, the bane of the universe endures.” She took a moment, moaned as if in pain. “The One Life used the power too soon, but it was not his fault. He had no choice, for Phate was all but lost.”
Drinwor’s eyes glittered with visions of what it must have been like, so long ago. He whispered: “And now?”
“And now, when the Dark Forever again threatens to return and destroy all creation, it has come down to us, just we few beings stranded in the darkest region of the universe, with nearly no one to aid us but the spirits of those who have already sacrificed.”
“Already sacrificed…” Drinwor echoed.
The Fallen Angel floated back down to the floor, and continued with, “What we will we do? Will we let the fires of hatred that seem to burn in the hearts of reckless beings consume us all? Will we let all the worlds, all the galaxies, all the histories, and all those who have lived and loved and died for something beyond themselves perish in flames? No…never. Should one being of light stand against a billion dark foes, then let him stand strong, with faith and hope in one hand—”
“And the Sunsword Surassis in the other,” Drinwor finished for her, his gaze wandering to his hand whose fingers clenched as if around an invisible hilt.
“One Life, One Soul, One Sword,” the Fallen Angel said.
“One Life…I am that One Life,” Drinwor murmured.
“Yes, it is you, the Son and Savior of the Stars, the One Life, meant to wield the One Sword. You are the hope for us all.”
At that moment, the phantom flutes rose up and the spirit elves began to sing. Dragon cries filtered down from the chamber’s upper reaches and the angel’s light shone as brightly as ever. Drinwor’s face was washed with warmth. His eyes glistened and he felt a burning inside, a wanting to unleash all those feelings, old and new, that had him so unsettled. Unmistakably, the angel’s words had awakened something within him and, in that moment, he felt a small inkling of his potential power.
He looked to her and said, “I do have a yearning I never understood. Perhaps it is the desire to help, but I feel so alone now. So alone...”
“No, Drinwor, you will never be alone!” the angel avowed. “I promised your father, and I will promise you now—you will never be alone. And that’s the one final thing I wanted to tell you…a companion awaits you.”
Drinwor perked up. “Companion?”
“Oh, yes, for what is the Emperor of the Sky without a dragon?”
“A dragon?”
Although her face had no features, Drinwor had the distinct impression the Fallen Angel was smiling when she said, “Yes, Emperor. The universe has provided you a dragon of your own, and a glorious one at that.
Tomorrow morning, when you awaken, you will meet. And I must say, of all the dragons I have ever seen, there are none greater than yours. She is truly special. She knows about you, and she’s anxious to meet you.”
“She?”
“You shall see.” The angel slowly leaned her head back, and looked straight up. “Find the soul of the sword, Drinwor, and you will find yourself. Worry not about the chaos around you, just conquer the uncertainty within, and all will be resolved as light has dictated since the beginning of time.”
Suddenly, the Sun’s Remembrance lit like an explosion, issuing brilliant shafts of golden light that were much brighter than the ones it had emitted before. They shot down through the darkness and converged on the Fallen Angel, immersing her in a final surge of borrowed power.
Drinwor backed away, and the angel, glittering in the jewel’s spectacular radiance, began to transform. Her outline sizzled, bloomed outward, and she fell to all fours. Her limbs lengthened, her wings expanded, and a tail extended from her hind quarters. She soon grew to be so large, she took up a sizable portion of the expansive floor.
When the transformation was complete, she had metamorphosed into something even the fantastical world of Phate had never seen. The light from the Sun’s Remembrance waned, the shafts dimmed, but the bottom of the chamber was aglow with the blazing visage of a Greater Angelic Dragon.
Drinwor was astounded.
To him she looked like a dragon composed of heavenly white fire—and that’s exactly what she was now: a dragon of sunlight, a dragon of faith, and, most importantly, a dragon of unimaginable speed. She curled her shining head down to him and said, “And now, Drinwor Fang, I must bid you farewell, for it is time for me to fulfill my part in things, and find help amongst the stars. Remember, believe in yourself, have faith in the universe, and you will never be alone.”
“Thank you, Blessed Angel,” the dusk elf stammered, “I will remember.”