Kieran’s eyes fluttered open in the near-total darkness of his room. Still mostly caught in the haze of sleep, he could only register howling wind coming from outside, loud enough to drown out any other sound within the building.
Mildly annoyed at the manner of awakening, he went through his usual early morning motions. He put on his robe, lamenting that he still couldn’t get it properly patched up. Then he grabbed his belt and attached his weapon sheaths.
It was when he reached for Last Breath that he noticed something was wrong. Namely, his weapons weren’t there. Assuming he might’ve left them in the common room, Kieran continued his morning routine, first stretching and then checking himself over mentally.
That was when he noticed that the flow of energy within him was gone. Not halted. Not depleted. Just gone. He didn’t even feel cold.
He looked down at his wrist. The gem embedded in his bracelet was clouded with fog.
Now fully awake, Kieran tried to cast Form of Death. He focused on the words and summoned the energy, as he was so used to doing. Nothing happened. He simply couldn’t channel his spell, no matter how hard he focused.
Realizing he was disarmed, both physically and magically, Kieran’s army instincts kicked in. He needed to know if he was alone.
He crept up to the door of his room, cracked it open just an inch, and peeked outside. None of the braziers in the building were lit. Still, what appeared to be the light of dusk cast everything in an ominous hue.
Kieran started going through the building methodically. He peeked around corners and through doors, only entering a room or hallway when he was absolutely certain no enemy awaited him within. He found no trace of Rah’Na, or anyone for that matter.
With nowhere left to check inside, Kieran moved to one of the building’s windows and carefully scanned the street for activity. There was no sign of anyone or anything outside. The howling wind was even louder now, but that wasn’t Kieran’s main concern.
No, what really mattered to Kieran was the sky.
The sky above Eon’s Peak was covered in clouds, like a massive blanket over the world. The only break in the cloud cover was a single perfect hole to allow the fully eclipsed sun to peek through. And the clouds were all ablaze. Ashes fell from them like snow, whipped around by the winds in a dazzling display.
Kieran put his back to the wall right by the window and slid down, his mind spinning.
It’s unlikely this is reality. Rah’Na would’ve come to get me if something was happening, he rationalized, managing to keep himself calm. So the real question is… is this vision the work of the gods, or one of our enemies?
Thinking back to what he had read of the Pale Watchers, Kieran didn’t recall anything to do with invading dreams or pulling victims into other realities. Not to this extent, anyway. Some strong Pale Watchers were capable of creating a demi-plane for brief periods, using it to force a victim into a duel, but those were never larger than a 30-foot circle.
So, not the undead invasion force. This was either the work of another monster commander’s army, or one of the gods. Logic declared that the latter was more likely. After all, Kieran hadn’t pissed off any of the other monster armies yet.
Probably.
Something Rah’Na had said floated to the surface of his memory:
The gods are cruel, but fair.
With a heavy sigh, Kieran stood up and pushed through the door.
The wind stopped almost immediately. The ash continued to fall, forming a thin layer of gray on the ground. Quickly scanning his surroundings, Kieran noticed a beacon of red light rising into the sky, roughly in the direction of Eon’s Vault.
Definitely one of the gods then… he mused. War or Strife, if I had to guess. More likely Strife, considering how all of my offensive and defensive tools have been stripped.
Now that the situation was at least somewhat clear to him, Kieran set off towards the vault without hesitation. If Fahra'Uhn had finally decided to test him, then he would meet their challenge with all he had.
The closer he got to the Vault, Kieran noticed a strange thing. Weapons were scattered on the ash-covered streets around him. Swords, spears and halberds stuck out of the ground. Bows and crossbows lay abandoned on the stones. All manner of weaponry littered his surroundings, badly rusted and rotten, like a forgotten graveyard of all those who had fallen through the ages.
Keen to arm himself, even with a rusty piece of scrap, Kieran approached one sword sticking out of the ground and tried to pull it out. As soon as his hand so much as brushed against the weapon’s hilt, Kieran’s mind filled with vengeful screams. Heat rapidly spread through his body.
He stumbled backwards, away from the weapon.If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
That’s a no-go, then.
Shaking his head, he resumed his trek towards Eon’s Vault.
When the giant stone gate finally came into view, Kieran paused for a moment. A ring of discarded weapons lay around the edge of the Vault’s yard, each sticking out of the ground as a marker of a life lost. In the center of the yard was a singular weapon, a sword in pristine condition. It was from the sword that the beacon of red light rose into the sky.
Beyond the ring of weapons and the beacon, a gigantic figure stood right in front of the gate. Masculine in form, its body was crystalline. But instead of the usual star patterns and nebulae Kieran was used to seeing, the figure seemed to be made of fire, just barely contained within the onyx-like body. Waves of flame flowed intermittently through each limb, illuminating the figure’s surroundings before fading.
The figure wore a long, tattered cloak that fluttered gently in a nonexistent breeze. Their face was featureless aside from a singular spot in the middle of their forehead which burned constantly. It reminded Kieran of a caldera, as if the figure’s brow were a volcano that had erupted and then collapsed.
The figure stood in front of the gate, arms crossed, waiting patiently.
Kieran stepped through the ring of weapons, taking care not to even brush against any of them. When he crossed into the yard proper, the beacon of light ceased. Only Kieran, the weapon, and the figure remained.
“You have made impressive strides during your short time in Lyruna, Contender.” A voice washed over Kieran’s mind like steady pressure against his skull. “But you have seen nothing of the Strife our beautiful world has to offer.”
Stopping right before the pristine sword, Kieran looked up at the figure’s face. He met the god’s burning volcanic eye without blinking. “Fahra’Uhn, I assume?”
“You are correct, Contender. But let us not waste any more time on words than we have to,” the god demanded, gesturing with a massive hand at the weapon in front of Kieran. “Arm yourself. Prove to me that you can survive our Lyruna without the paltry gifts others have given you.”
Kieran considered the sword beefore him. The blade was longer than Defiant Aphelion and curved slightly. It reminded him somewhat of cavalry sabers, armguard and all. He gingerly grasped the weapon’s hilt, half expecting another mental assault, but none came.
Lifting the blade, he gave it a flourish, getting used to the weight. It was lighter than Defiant Aphelion, particularly fit for slashing attacks. Kieran also appreciated the armguard. It would make parrying much easier.
“Good. Now…” The god’s voice deepened. It seemed to rumble through the earth itself, crashing against Kieran’s mind like a destructive current of volcanic ash. “Rise, Fahn’Ir, first of my Chosen. Test this whelp, that he may know true Strife.”
The ground in front of Kieran erupted into flame, then quickly formed into a humanoid shape. It was a statue of ashes resembling a woman, roughly Kieran’s height and with muscles that would make most body builders envious. A moment later, the ash fell away, revealing the woman beneath.
With bronze skin and platinum blonde hair, wearing only a linen tunic and pants, she looked at Kieran with fire-filled eyes.
Before Kieran had time to say a word, Fahn’Ir struck her fists together and dropped into what looked like a boxing stance. Raising his weapon, Kieran stepped backwards and took on a defensive position.
Fahn’Ir made the first move. Dropping even lower, she lunged forward with an uppercut. Kieran dodged to the side, spinning on his heel to avoid the attack and swinging his blade towards his opponent’s legs at the same time.
Fahn’Ir readjusted swiftly. She kicked towards Kieran’s wrist and knocked his attack off course. Then she continued her offensive, stepping backwards and sending an elbow full-force at Kieran’s jaw.
Continuing the momentum off his spin, Kieran dropped into a half-crouch and darted forward. He dodged under Fahn’Ir’s raised elbow and positioned himself behind her. Then he aimed a strike at the small of her back, hoping to end the fight with a decisive blow. Fahn’Ir, anticipating the counter once again, dashed forward and out of reach of Kieran’s blade.
Both fighters took the chance to refocus. Kieran flourished his sword and held it to the side while Fahn’Ir stretched theatrically. This was a battle of wits as much as a battle of skill, and both fighters knew it.
They circled slowly, looking for the opportunity to attack while each studied the other. Kieran paid particular attention to his foe’s movements. She moved with the grace and confidence of a seasoned fighter, no energy wasted and incredibly light on her feet. Her blazing eyes were devoid of fear.
The clash resumed with a dash from Fahn’Ir, closing the distance in the fraction of a second and launching a combo attack at Kieran. First a pair of jabs, both at chest level. Kieran dodged to the side, but he was a bit too slow. While one fist went over his shoulder, the other caught him in the side. A wave of pain surged through his ribs.
Before Kieran could adjust, Fahn’Ir followed up with a haymaker. The blow sent Kieran sprawling to the ground, all the wind knocked out of him. His world went white with pain as he landed.
Almost immediately, he felt pressure on his chest. When his vision cleared, Kieran looked up to see Fahn’Ir straddling him. Both her fists were raised and ready to drop in a hammer strike.
Barely reacting in time, Kieran moved his head out of the way. He heard the ground crack beside his ear, fractured by the sheer force of Fahn’Ir’s fist.
Kieran desperately twisted his body around, hoping to throw his opponent off of him. But it was useless. Fahn’Ir pinned him to the ground with all her weight, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Fahn’Ir sent another series of jabs at Kieran’s head. He barely managed to dodge. With every strike, he felt the air shift, displaced by force and fury.
Running swiftly out of options, Kieran curled his legs inward and drove his knees into Fahn’Ir’s back with all his might.
The gambit was just surprising enough to knock her off-balance. Seizing the opportunity, Kieran drove his fist into the woman’s ribs and threw his weight to the side in the same motion. Fahn’Ir tumbled over, finally releasing Kieran from under her.
Kieran rose to his feet and grabbed his blade. The duel was about to reset again. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
Taking a calculated risk, he dropped low and launched himself forward, aiming to tackle Fahn’Ir.
His opponent failed to anticipate such a reckless and desperate attack. Kieran drove his shoulder into her chest, using the full weight of his body to knock her even further off-balance. Then he followed up by uncurling his arm upwards, slashing with his weapon.
The strike landed true. The blade cut through Fahn’Ir’s stomach, up her chest, and finally across her neck. The warrior fell to her knees and then slumped onto the ground. Her body crumbled to ashes in seconds.
For a moment, Kieran’s heavy breathing was the only sound that broke the silence. Then Fahra’Uhn spoke once again.
“Well done, Worthy Contender. Meet me at Eon’s Vault, in your reality. Your reward awaits.”
And with those words washing over Kieran’s mind like a fire’s warm aura, his world turned to black.