by The Ranger
"Their safety?" Kota repeated, eyeing her warily. "Then, if safety is your concern, does that mean you have not come with a weapon to destroy our enemy?"
She hesitated as she thought of what to say, looking away for a moment to gather her thoughts. It was then that she saw a stray light radiating near them. She turned, and there sat a sight she would never have expected in a library— fire. Seated at the edge of the chamber was a sturdy marble pedestal; its top was coated in the same metal as its larger counterpart, and a decorative brazier held a much smaller variant of the fire she encountered before. There was a strange grayish dust lingering on the floor around it, but it was nothing that seemed especially significant. She stared at the brazier for a moment longer before remembering the High Priest's question.
"Lucian's Sworn Defender has been granted a power— one that might save Azra," she revealed, reluctant to divulge everything she knew. "He's preparing for battle as we speak, but, first, we must safeguard these people."
"Might save Azra?" the cleric at Kota's side repeated.
"Richard…" the High Priest whispered, turning to the man next to him. "We were right to prepare ourselves— the Sworn Defender will not be enough to defeat him. We must continue our work."
Khora's face furrowed into a frown as she watched the two old men whisper to each other. Anger touched her tongue as she began to speak.
"How can you say that when you know nothing of the work we've done simply to return here?" she growled. "Of what Richard has endured, and what he can do! You cannot be so foolish-"
"I know of Richard, and I know of our adversary," Kota interrupted. "He is no match for such a skilled sorcerer. It matters little what 'power' the Ancient may have granted him. He will not defeat our foe in open combat."
She felt insulted for her friend but decided to restrain herself against further argument. She had no intention of debating with the High Priest over Richard's merits.
"If you have such little faith in him, then there is greater reason for these people to leave the temple. If Richard cannot claim victory, we are in danger. You all must leave."
The High Priest stared at her for a moment too long before shaking his head coldly and moving his attention back to the things that laid on the desk.
"We will do no such thing," he muttered, picking up a small box in front of him. "These people must remain here— for the good of the entire kingdom. Perhaps even the entire continent."
"The entire continent?" she repeated, confusion and frustration pulsing through her. "What 'good' does staying here do for anyone?"
Kota did not look up at her again; instead, he opened the box in his hands absent-mindedly.
"Show the girl what she wants to know," he ordered, eyes examining whatever laid inside.
The initiate bowed deeply and shuffled back until he skirted near what Khora thought might be a closet or a storeroom. The door seemed to rustle as the young man approached it, and a stark fear began to crawl across his face. She wondered what might have inspired such an expression when he nudged the door, and it flew open. He jumped back in time to avoid a charging Soul Seeker.
"What are you doing!" she yelled, shoving Edmund behind her defensively.
She backed away from the monster that stood between them, pushing her friend along with herself and preparing to confront it. She wondered which of them it would target first and began to question how the defenseless priests would react if it chose them.
"Watch," Kota told her, seemingly unfazed by the creature's dark presence.
The Seeker scanned them and almost seemed confused for a moment as it stood motionlessly. A few seconds of unease passed before it finally marched towards Khora and Edmund. She raised her spear, prepared to strike it, but the monster continued past her and trudged directly towards the fire. It reached the brazier and raised its hand towards the flickering light, only to burst apart immediately.
She watched cautiously as it fell away to dust and joined the rest of the remains scattered around the pedestal.
"Wait, but why-" Edmund tried.
"Dragonfire is quite a powerful thing," Kota started. "This has always been known to any who have encountered such… a material. However, that is not merely dragonfire…"
The old man hung his hands in front of his stomach, grasping them tightly as he brought his eyes forward and stared at the now-roaring flames near them.
"That is Izkar's fire — Izkar, the Fate-Maker — he who is one of three Primordial dragons. Beings that are as close to godly as any that our people have come to encounter," the High Priest revealed. "And thus, his fire is considerably distinctive compared to that of common dragons, and even the Elder dragons. It is much more than destruction… it is warmth… it is life."
He kept his eyes on the dragonfire as he finished speaking, and Khora turned to do the same. She watched it, staring into the flames and watching them splash across the small brazier. She looked at the dust the Seeker left behind, and then she knew the meaning behind the High Priest's words.
"The fire," she murmured. "The Seekers see it as they would a mortal soul…"
"Yes," the old man confirmed. "That is but one of the great powers it possesses. This is something our most distinguished predecessor, King Levi, discovered— and the reason why he demanded the preservation of this flame. It is what has driven the defense of this kingdom from ghastly spirits and foul creatures of the night. And it is… what will save our home once more."
"But what does that have to do with all the people back there?" Edmund inquired. "How can they… why does…"
"You ask so many questions," the middling man spat. "As if the High Priest owes you any such answers."
"Please, Donnar, I am more than capable of speaking for myself," Kota reassured him. "And, I believe this youth has more than earned his answers."
The old man gestured towards the fire once more, watching it intently before turning his sight back to Edmund.
"Tell me, young man, can you discern a difference between the fire held here and its counterpart?" he asked.
Khora looked towards the young boy and could see his mind was hard at work as he focused on the dragonfire.
"Is it…" he started. "The color? This one looks brighter? Is that the difference?"
"The color?" she repeated questioningly.
"Yes," the old man answered. "Izkar's fire responds to those in its presence; the more that amass around it, the more potent its power can become. That is why this fire is not as dark as its brother."
They were right, she realized; it had not been something she put much attention towards before, but Khora realized it the moment she allowed herself a more attentive look at the rumbling fire. It was barely blue, with subtle white roots— not quite the shadowed sapphire that had laid before them earlier.
"But," Khora said, as she began to think about the High Priest's words. "How do you plan to use the dragonfire to extinguish the Seekers? There are too many of them, and they're scattered throughout the city."
"We're searching for a rune parchment," the young man spoke out, a nervous look crossing his face as Donnar turned to look at him. "We can use it to… to provoke the dragonfire's power even further…"
Rune parchment was something she had a small measure of experience with; it was any parchment that had been engraved ahead of its purported use. It was not as potent as newly drawn runes and lost effectiveness as time passed, but it was an ideal material for those less adept with runemaking. Once prepared, all it needed was a drop of human or elven blood to begin its work. In the Norva, rune parchment was usually used to seal powerful hauntlings and dispel their weaker brethren. However, its applications were infinite, which made Khora fear the remorseful look in the initiate's eyes.
"What… 'provoke' the dragonfire… what does that mean?" Edmund questioned, his voice cracking as he asked.
The initiate turned his eyes to the ground as the question was asked, but the older men demonstrated no such change in demeanor.
"We will lay rune parchment on the brazier," Kota muttered. "It will ignite and increase the flames' power tenfold. Those monsters will have no choice but to seek it out. Whatever happens before the dragonfire destroys them… it will be but a small price to pay… for the preservation of this kingdom and the destruction of our foe's army."
Khora took a step back, away from the priests, and felt horror run through her mind. She looked towards Donnar, who had nodded slowly once his master finished speaking.
"Our enemy has forced our hand and guided it towards violence," the High Priest continued. "But we do not falter because this is our home, and its legacy… its future… is all that matters now."
"You're all sick," she hissed. "I won't let you lay a finger on that brazier!"
Khora stepped forward once more and raised her spear, pointing it towards the priests defiantly. She had no wish to harm them, and even less of a desire to kill them, but there was no reluctance in her mind as she eyed them. She saw it now, clearer than anything she had ever seen up until that moment— concern vanished from the High Priest's eyes, and it was replaced with fanaticism.
"Continue searching for the parchment, Jacob," Donnar ordered, his voice rising as he began to yell. "And you, girl, you would dare to-"
Khora lunged her left foot forward, closing the gap between them and bringing the tip of her spear close enough to his face that it might nearly have shaved him.
"Always," she muttered, attention on his fast-blinking eyes. "Always."
The priest grimaced, his face wrinkling even more than before, and he raised his hand into the air. The sleeve of his robe slid back and revealed his bare arm.
"She is the Prince's companion," Kota murmured. "She will not die by our hand."
"Of course not," he returned, bitterness breaking through his words. "I will simply delay her while we fulfill our duty…"
New energy cracked through the air, and a pink circle of light materialized on Donnar's arm. Within it were three waves of rippling mist obscuring its center; they began to glow brightly as the priest chuckled.
Khora winced when she recognized the dastardly mark on his arm. She knew it to be the Blessing of the Deceiver.
"Edmund!" she shrieked, jumping back. "Stay close to-"
Her world twisted and turned while an illusion surged across her vision, and the ground trembled as the archives dissolved. Time seemed to still as she came to stand in the middle of Azra's throne room. Seats lined the walls and were filled with people— all of them dressed in exquisite clothing and disapproving looks as they observed the young Norfolk girl.
"Edmund!" she screamed out, waving her hand forward as she searched through the illusion.
"I've found it, Donnar," she could hear Kota murmur. "I will proceed with our work… our home will be saved…"
Khora felt someone quickly walk by her, but she was too slow to grab at them before they were gone once more.
"Where are you!" Edmund called out. "I-I don't know where I am!"
She heard him somewhere to her left and trudged towards his voice with her arms stretched out in front of her.
"Keep talking, Ed!" she ordered, spinning around the recreation of Azra's throne room. "I'll find you!"
"You sound close! I think you're-"
"This is neither the time nor the place for shouting."
The words boomed around her, muting Edmund's voice and forcing Khora to freeze when she heard them. All she could do was sheepishly turn to face the speaker, and she regretted that decision the moment it had been made.
"Lu-Lucian-" Khora tried.
"My father has a few things he'd like to say," the Prince scolded. "And I encourage you to listen very carefully."
He seemed so real to her as he stood at King Lacerne's side, so bright and full of life. Except, the imitation's eyes weren't Lucian's— at least not how she had come to know them. There was contempt and revulsion sitting within them, not the trust and respect she remembered. Khora was uncertain of her feelings— unsure if it would be rage or sorrow that spilled out first.
"Listen here, girl," Lacerne began. "You've come to us from afar and traipsed around this place, making demands and extorting our kindness. This ends now. You are not fit for the generosity of my people!"
She blinked awkwardly as she fought against the farce that played on all sides. It was difficult not to sink into Donnar's magic.
"T-this is not real, and I can't be convinced otherwise! I have faced far worse venoms and far greater adversaries!"
She pointed her spear towards King Lacerne and stared him down as she continued speaking.
"And I know the true king would play no part in this!" she added. "For all the viciousness he may have sown and all the neglect that's brought us here— I do not believe he would sacrifice his people, and he would not let a poor-man's-magician like you walk free!"
King Lacerne's face melted away to reveal the priest's, who began to laugh at Khora's accusations.
"The man you speak of is not here to witness this defense, but I assure you— you think too highly of him," Donnar hissed. "For all his proclamations and his decrees, he overlooked Azra's last wizard. Every day I waited for that lout Uros to burn my Blessing, but he never did. And I managed to continue our Temple's greatest tradition… though, you'd know nothing of our culture."
Donnar faded once more, replaced again by the King, who looked as if not a moment had passed since his previous words.
"It matters not the services you may have provided my kingdom," he began again. "You are an uncivilized beast and deserve no place in a country like this one."
"Crude!" one of the people in the seats yelled out.
"Stupid!" another cried, throwing a stone towards Khora.
"Dirty!" a third pointed.
"Yes, I do agree," Prince Lucian sighed. "If only this could have been avoided. If only you'd have died before arriving at our gates."
Khora watched her friend as he raised his finger to point at her before smiling and opening his mouth.
"Back to the mud-huts with you!" he ordered, a crooked grin growing across his face.
The stones beneath her feet cracked and caved as they fell away, and she fell with them through a swirling passage of dirt and sand.
She hit the ground, and though it sported the appearance of a vast desert, it felt like the archives' wood flooring. Donnar had answered her question without her needing to ask it: he was a wizard practicing in secret. Even without that confirmation, it was easy to see that the illusion that enveloped her was of lesser quality— not at all the fantasy created by the dreamweaver nor the false environment Torfir had so adeptly weaved.
"Does this remind you of home?" Donnar asked. "Of where you belong?"
Khora stared at the emptiness all around her. It was a vast, golden-sand desert; there were few plants, even fewer people, and a lone goat with not enough flesh to feed a child. It was not representative of the Norva at all, and she thought of saying as much. However, she remembered that even though she could no longer see the archives, that is where they were.
She gathered saliva in her mouth before spitting on the ground, and an infuriated Donnar cried out when she did so.
"You insolent-" the priest shrieked. "You know nothing of respect!"
She took a tentative step to her right and stopped abruptly before inching forward once more.
"I may know nothing, but you know even less, you stupid, gangly old man…"
"You impudent woman!" he yelled back, anger cracking his voice.
"I'm surprised you know what a woman is. None would ever let you lay with them, I'm sure."
"Yo-you disrespectful bitc-" he tried.
Khora leapt in the direction of his voice and thrust her spear forward. The priest yelped, and for a moment, the illusion crumbled around her. She had failed to strike him, though, and found she had instead lodged her spear in 'Whispers of the Fifteenth.'
She pulled her spear back and tugged the book off of
it as Donnar's magic swept across the room once more, returning her to the desert.
"You really tried to kill me!" the priest screamed, this time his voice reverberating all around her.
"You still don't understand," she countered. "I won't let you hurt these people. I won't let another disaster befall Azra. I will protect my home!"
She whipped around as she yelled the last word, hoping to find either Donnar or Jacob within her grasp, but it was no use. It was impossible to tell where they were while the priest's magic was affecting her. She knew Kota would soon fulfill his objective if he had not already done so.
"You sound determined," Donnar murmured. "Desperate too, I believe. Fine. I will grant you one opportunity."
The sands shifted once again and transformed into a golden mist— the mist floated upwards to reveal Khora had been returned to Azra's archives. However, the large chamber was empty now; all the bookcases, shelves, and tables were empty, and it was devoid of even the individuals it had hosted just moments earlier. That changed an instant later when Donnar materialized directly in front of her, and at his side stood an exact replica of him. They were indistinguishable from one another, and when one opened his mouth, the other did too.
"Now, here is my proposal," they both began. "You have been presented with the opportunity to put that spear of yours to use. However… only one of us is a respectable priest of Azra. The other is that… short little cretin you bumbled in with. His Greatness did not want either of you harmed, but… as long as I do not enact this killing myself…"
Sweat fell from Khora's face, and she stared at the pair before her. She knew there would be no other way to escape the illusion, not before Kota set his plan in action, but she was reluctant to strike. She had lost enough friends already.
"Damn you," she whispered, only for the pair of old men to chuckle wickedly. "You are a servant to this kingdom; don't you realize what you're doing is wrong?"
"Now, now, girl, do not concern yourself with our decisions," they both replied, scowling at her. "Worry about… your decision."
Khora grimaced as they fell silent and fixed their eyes on her. They were watching her expectantly. She raised her spear and scanned them both. She searched for any sign that might reveal which one of them was genuinely Donnar and which was her dear friend. Yet, there were no clues to be found.
