“Then you understand your role now. Malstrife, your ancient enemy, is on the brink of returning. You and Arya are the only ones who can stop him for good. The sages cannot help you. I, cannot help you.”
“Why not?” Jaival scorned.
“Because I’ve served my time. We’ve all served our time, Mikael included. We sages have fought Malstrife and his forces in an endless cycle for countless millennia, dating back to long before I was born. Our efforts have only sealed him temporarily. No matter how many times we defeated him, he always came back, ten times stronger. The missing link has always been the same. You and her.”
“Arya.”
“Star World has waited tens of thousands of years for the two of you to be reborn. You cannot run from your destiny. Only you two have the power to stop Malstrife.”
“I have no desire to.” Jaival shot a determined look at Sorata.
“Ha!” The witch laughed. “Truly, it’s adorable that you have such courage, but still, you are not ready. The last time you fought Baldr it did not end so well for you, if I recall.”
Jaival’s shoulders dropped. He felt embarrassed and defeated. All he wanted was another chance.
“What would you have me do?” he submitted.
“Embrace what you are in this lifetime. You are a Twilight, just like me. A bender of both light and dark energies. If you accept this duality – this, positive and negative enigma of yourself and reality around you, then you will find a power so great, you will be unrivaled. It will set you free.”
Jaival paid attention. He was eager to learn from his new teacher.
“We don’t have much time. We’ll have to go with the ole’ quality over quantity for your training. Come, let us begin.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Kingdom in Void
EIRA CITADEL WAS A DIFFERENT PLACE. It wasn’t the rich, noble fortress that once stood tall over the luscious landscapes. It was a dark, brooding place filled with strife, slavery, and oppression. Nidhogg routinely took flight around the fortress; the shadow of his wings serving as a reminder to any who’d dare try to escape. Even if they got past the demonic guards at every entrance, they’d be incinerated within seconds by the great dragon.
Void Order summoners worked night and day creating portals to other dimensions, and through these cursed doorways, mutants from other worlds – demons; the same ones Jaival saw in his visions, came to Star world, deranged and ravenous for blood. Screams of the whipped natives of the kingdom echoed throughout the fortress. Their cries were so distinct – so disturbing, that even high atop the castle in her private quarters, or rather, her gilded cell, Arya could hear them.
The former Princess, now Queen to the Kingdom of Void, stared blankly at her dressing mirror, reflecting over everything happening. Her beauty remained untarnished yet there was a drag; a sadness to Arya’s face. She couldn’t smile. Even if it was for the sake of faking it so that her people would know there is some light at the end of tunnel – Arya simply couldn’t do it. Months of giving her people false hope had driven her to the point of almost breaking and lashing out against the forces that kept her prisoner.
She felt a puppet, forced into a play without end. If Arya was to leave, Baldr would slaughter the people. If she was to rebel, he would also kill their people. She had to play the role of mediator for the sake of the people. Her brother’s savagery knew no end. Women and children weren’t shown any mercy either. If someone stepped out of line, they were either killed or made examples of, through suffering.
The irony of it was that all was not perfect with Baldr either. He constantly had to work to claim his position amongst The Order of the Void. Magnus and other lieutenants became wary of their new, self-appointed King. They still hadn’t retrieved the Starlight Blade and Baldr had command over both Eira forces and the Void Order’s alike, ruling with an iron fist. In addition, Baldr and the Void-Star Blade were becoming attuned. Secrets of ancient powers, techniques and abilities whispered through his mind.
Yet, he was worried. Since the time of his takeover, Baldr had done all he could to avoid direct contact with the Dark Lord. Some had their suspicions, although others assumed he communed with Malstrife behind closed doors. The truth was – Baldr had a plan he hadn’t forgotten. He needed allies, someone to share his vision with. So, with all the mistrust about, Baldr went to the only one he still had some care for.
Knock! Knock! The Queen’s doors banged.
That’s odd, Arya quizzed. Usually they just barge right in.
“Come in?” she called, confused if she could issue such an order anymore.
The doors opened and Baldr walked in. Arya’s excitement for a possible hero quickly died. She rolled her eyes upon seeing her brother and turned back to looking at the mirror to finish her dressing.
“You always looked lovely in that dress.” Baldr said as he stood by the doorway, looking over his sister. She wore an elegant, form fitting, white dress that was used for formal balls. It was a stark contrast to her brother’s garments which were all black, studded and topped by a cape.
“…father would be proud.”
A jolt of irritation bested Arya’s tolerance.
“What father? The one you slew without a moment’s hesitation? What do you want?” she flatly asked.
Baldr cleared his throat.
“I know there is nothing I could say that would fix what I’ve done but all I ask is that you listen to me just this once.”
“Do I have a choice?” Arya sounded defeated.
Baldr bowed his head and nodded with a feint smile.
I suppose her attitude is well warranted.
“Everything I’ve done was for the salvation of our world. I gave up all that I was to do so.” he went on to say, expecting some resistance from his sister. But nothing came. Months under his rule and Arya had already gone through all the intricacies of defiance. She accepted her fate. “There is something I wish to show you. After that, feel free to hate me for all of eternity.”
Arya shot a cold, but curious glare at him.
***
After walking past hallway after hallway filled with Void Order servants and demons, Baldr and Arya arrived at his suite. He gave the order to his guards to leave them in privacy. Inside his decadent quarters, the Void-Star Blade lay dormant on the floor, patiently waiting for its current master to return. Arya stayed at the end of the room while her brother went on to retrieve the sword.
“There are things I’ve had access to that no one would understand,” he said as the Star Blade coursed with energies. “Visions of the past and of a future that would be the inevitable end to Star World as we know it. In request for my service, I sacrificed my call to the light.”
Baldr moved toward his sister, the Void-Star Blade seething with power.
“Take it.” he offered the sword.
Arya hesitated. Is this some sort of trick?
She slowly reached for the hilt of the blade, its weight becoming more apparent as Baldr released his grip. Finally, Arya grabbed the sword. The power was now in her hands. She eyed the fallen hero in front of her. If she wanted, she could cut him down.
“Why are you doing this?” Arya questioned.
“Because I want you to see for yourself. Now, breathe, feel the spirit of the blade consume you. Let it guide you. Become one with its dreams.”
Arya followed her brother’s instruction, curious of where this was going. She closed her eyes and allowed the Star Blade to take control. The world around her shifted. Everything became ethereal. Baldr was no longer there and she was no longer in Eira Citadel, or even Star World. Arya opened her eyes and found herself on another planet.
The skies in this alien world were painted green, torn apart by unnatural science and devious manmade horrors. Great siege machines, some built in the likeliness of man, rose into her foresight, towering over the darkened sky that was dimly lit by a nearby pulsar. Armies of mutated warriors – the type Star World would call demons, ma
rched in the horizon, lining up in military formations. Air machines that resembled metal birds flew across this foreign land. Something was happening here, something big.
‘Now you see what I have seen.’ Baldr’s voice echoed into Arya’s mind. ‘This is but a sliver of my master’s true power. He has hidden it from the rest of his disciples. Only his chosen few and those who dare best what he covers has seen it.’
Arya’s held her mouth and her hair stood on end.
An entire world that evolved for war?
What in Creation was this madness?
How did it come to this?
‘Soon he will bring these armies to our world and other worlds like it. Mikael was right, there would be no stopping it. This world or the next.’
An armored juggernaut stomped behind Arya. The princess fell on her backside and elbows, crawling away in fear. The monstrous abomination looked down at her. Steam rose from its metal-clad body; its razor-sharp claws – ripe to rend flesh.
“Baldr, help!” Arya cried for her brother the same way she did when they were young.
A powerful grip grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her from the foreign world through a portal. Arya opened her eyes, gasping for breath. She dropped the Star Blade on the ground and backed away from it.
“What is the meaning of this madness!” she yelped.
Baldr retrieved the blade and looked over it with a faint smile.
“It is the coming doom no one expected, not even The Order. It is the reason I have sacrificed everything to fight against it.”
Arya tried calming her breathing. For the first time in years, she was beginning to understand some extent of her brother’s actions. Memory of Jaival’s blabbering during their travels came back to her. Maybe there was truth to what Baldr was saying.
“This is why I want to open the portal,” Baldr continued. “I want to destroy The Dark Lord, once and for all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Test of The Twilight
ENORMOUS ARCHAIC DOORS OPENED and Jaival walked into a pitch-black room.
“Some light would be great.” he said aloud.
Seconds later, lines of neon blue light raced across both ground and ceiling, highlighting the structural integrity. It was a spacious chamber. There were monuments, neon lamps, and statues of heroes of old. The walls were etched with hieroglyphics, each telling a story of its own. The air was stuffy. This was a place that hadn’t been used in centuries.
“Welcome to The Chamber of Twilight,” Sorata’s voice echoed throughout the room. “When I was banished, this was the first place I projected my consciousness to. The figures you see in front of you are all failed Twilighters. They were once noble heroes, their names long forgotten due to their affliction.”
Jaival observed the statues as his mentor spoke. There was despair captured in their stone eyes.
“Failed?” The moon elf speculated.
“I should have you know that not all afflicted with the curse succeed in becoming a Twilight. Most die. Then there’s the other option – they become demons. The darkness is too much to bear for most. Only a pure heart can conquer the demonic energies threatening to suffocate them.”
A devious cramp ran through Jaival’s veins. It felt unnatural. Demonic.
“I thought you healed me?!” he gritted his teeth.
“Oh no, why would I do that? I merely halted the transformation and cured the wounds that threatened to take your life. For you to become a Twilight, you must heal yourself.”
Jaival started chuckling. It grew louder and louder until he was guffawing, maniacally.
“What’s so funny?” Sorata quizzed.
Jaival calmed himself.
“You are the last Twilight, right?”
“And hopefully there’ll be another to join me. Why?”
“I’m thinking about what you said. You said only a pure heart can best the demonic transformation to become a Twilight, right?”
“Yes?”
“So, underneath all that allure, and all that uncaringness you emit, there is a good person after all.”
Sorata remained quiet.
“Would you like an award? Perhaps a prize of some sort, for stating the obvious?” she retorted.
Jaival shook his head and grinned.
“That won’t be necessary. I just find it ironic. Many have been led to believe you as a power-hungry, demon-loving witch. Who would’ve thought you would be the one with a pure heart.” Jaival thought on everything he’d been through with Sorata. She had saved him multiple times at this point, there was no denying it.
“…thank you, Sorata.”
Sorata blushed. It was the first time anyone had said something like that to her in centuries.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “Now let’s get on with your training. There isn’t much time left and flowers won’t buy you out of your state. You must master control over the inner demon to best it, and use it for good.”
Two of the statues twitched. Their eyes turned blue and their stone bodies sprung to life.
They jumped in front of Jaival, each holding a pair of double-bladed glaives.
“You are aware you sent me in without weapons, again?!” Jaival blurted.
“That’s the point. This time, you won’t be able to solely rely on physical assets. You’ll need to look deep within yourself, unlock the fluidal powers that course in your body.”
I always thought she was a nutcase, but this-
“Are you listening to me, boy? There is a well of primal energy that all things originated from. Like droplets in an endless sea, we come from it and one day, we return to it. This Primal Power of Creation courses through everything – living or dead. Its energies run through you. We are all indefinitely connected to it. And this energy is neutral. It can be harnessed for good or evil. The choice is up to us.”
Jaival paid close attention to the witch’s wisdom, though it’d be a fable if he said the impending danger didn’t have him wary.
“Like the sun and moon, night and day, up and down, male and female – light and dark are inherent to each other. They are manifested forces of the Primal Power. As Twilighters, we are the balance to the equation. The equalizer of forces. We draw upon both negative and positive energies to create a harmonized balance. One that can be used for good or evil.”
“That’s all well and good Sorata,” Jaival flinched as the failed Twilighters angled their swords. “But I have two glaive-wielding maniacs in front of me!”
Sorata furrowed her eyebrows.
Did he not listen to a word I said?!
“Find the balance and you will unlock a power that no weapon could ever match. Good luck.” her voice faded.
Jaival’s foes drew closer, their blades hungry for action. The moon elf closed his eyes.
“Find the balance, find the balance.” he meditated.
A devious swipe aimed for his neck. He narrowly avoided it by rolling to the side.
Okay, that didn’t work.
The failed Twilighters charged once more, forcing Jaival to rapidly lose ground. Through a series of dodges, and using other statues and ornaments as diversions, Jaival was cutting it close. Too close. He needed a better plan. The failed Twilighters weren’t keen to chase him. At a certain point, they stood back and charged their blades – two filled with shadow energies, the other two, light.
A whiff of hot, white and black plasma raced for the moon elf. He leapt out of harm’s way, an explosive blast tearing apart the walls behind him. The Twilighters were ready to charge again, and then, Jaival felt a demonic surge in his body, faltering him to one knee.
Find balance, Sorata’s words echoed in his head as the void energies swirled in him.
The failed Twilighters leapt once more, blades drawn. Jaival gnashed his teeth, trying to focus the savage force of the demonic power, and combined it with the will to save his other half. The moon elf extended his palm with a ferocious yell. A barrier of white and black formed in fro
nt of him, halting the Twilighters’ blades.
Is this the balance?
Jaival utilized his newfound power and emitted a blast that sent his foes flying.
He looked at his hands, shocked from what he did.
Twilight power, huh?
Seeing his enemies floored, he used the opportunity to scurry towards one of the other statues and grab its glaive. The failed Twilighters got back to their feet and leapt for him again. Jaival met them halfway, their blades clashing against his. The fight quickly became uneven. It seemed the more Jaival attacked with his newfound weapon, the more the Twilighters adapted, and the more dangerous they became. It came to the point where the moon elf could keep up no longer – they disarmed him of his weapon and forced him to retreat.
Jaival flipped back, dazed by the madness he was facing.
It seemed as if he was in more danger using a weapon than he was without.
Alright Sorata, he thought to himself, you win.
The demonic urge flared up again, this time stronger than ever. Jaival didn’t know if he’d be able to contain it. His foes however, couldn’t care less. They leapt for him once more. The moon elf gave into the urge, allowing himself to be overtaken by its savagery, while he fought to keep the one part of himself he knew no darkness could ever touch. The same part that would travel across stars for his other half.
Unbeknownst to him, Jaival’s eyes became illuminated with pure light and he grew a pair of spectral wings and horns. His body pulsed with white and black light, the energy tattoos on his body continuously swapping hues. He grew bulkier and veined. It was intoxicating, what he unleashed. The deeper he tapped into this potential, the more he felt his ancient self-returning.
The moon elf flew into the air to meet his opponents and speared one of them through the wall. A bare-knuckled punch knocked the reawakened Twilighter out cold. The other swooped in from behind, hoping to get the jump on the moon elf. Jaival turned about, raised his palm, and fired a scorching blast that tore the other statue to ashes. He rose to his feet, panting as his power waned. The spectral appendages disappeared, as suddenly as they had appeared. His eyes returned to their normal state and his body became slender once more.
Xenosaber: Fury of the Stars Page 16
