Ashan 108, Arc 718
"I saw something, back there, upon those rocks. Only... it wasn't real. I don't -- I don't think it was, at least. Might have been Mirage."
"What did it look like?"
"A hundred... bodies, conjoined into one; a mangled, plethora of corpses. A lump-sum of meat tied together to make the torso... a blob, at best. And then... dozens of arms crawling out from it, with only two legs. Faces, everywhere, gnawing and moaning; crying out. For death? For liberty? To be separated from the mass? I can't imagine their cries mean anything. They're undead, surely, so--"
"I think we can wager on that thing... not being real."
"Can we?" he asked.
Dimly lit, as always. The studded wood walls of Kaelserad encircled them, as the two lounged about... Alistair upon his fanciful leather chair, and Damien on the burgundy love seat at the edge of the room, hugging the walls. The night prior, they had gone out to the coast... to spy on the Coven. Though their information was far from solid, they had heard tale of mages moving about, shifting their energies from the Willow Woods into the interior of the land - Ne'haer's settlements, suburbs, and others.
They found mages, without great difficulty, as they knew the methodology of magi in hiding. Staring from the top of the cliffs, they witnessed them fluctuate from the cove, a den for them to hide in... burrowing like ants. All mages needed to hide, and build pits for themselves and their allies. But the Coven did so not because of their magic, but instead, their crimes. They were many, and varied, and gruesome - each action from every mage. They made... the world around them so much darker.
"I want to fight them," he said.
"The Coven?" Damien questioned.
"Yeah. But we are unable to do so, regardless of my whims. I know. They leave us alone because we leave them alone. But Acadia will become their target if we continue to agitate them. I... know." Alistair preempted everything that Damien would have said, knowing how ridiculous his antsy desire to fight back against the Coven was. It was foolish to poke at them, and prod. They needed patience. Ellasin had built her structures of power for over a hundred years, and no matter how strong they were individually, Alistair and Damien could not thwart her in a fortnight.
But he wondered. Would she even allow him to grow? What if Acadia became a true threat? She must've known, somehow, what he really wanted. To end her life. He'd never said as much, and he'd never made it obvious... but she had a sense for these things. She must have known.
"Damien," he whispered under his breath, clearing his throat. "I met Ellasin when she was... little. Before the magic, before the Lichdom. A hundred and fifty arcs ago," he claimed, staring precariously at the other mage. He knew that he would not be believed.
The Lich merely stared at him with confusion, his brow quirking. "Have you gone mad, Alistair?" Damien asked, narrowing his brows into his eyes.
Of late, every indication seemed to point to that conclusion. Damien had begun to lose faith in his apprentice, knowing that Fridgar's loss had taken a considerable toll. Each trial, he said another ridiculous, babbling thing. His mind was filled with skittering dreams.
"I saw something, back there, upon those rocks. Only... it wasn't real. I don't -- I don't think it was, at least. Might have been Mirage."
"What did it look like?"
"A hundred... bodies, conjoined into one; a mangled, plethora of corpses. A lump-sum of meat tied together to make the torso... a blob, at best. And then... dozens of arms crawling out from it, with only two legs. Faces, everywhere, gnawing and moaning; crying out. For death? For liberty? To be separated from the mass? I can't imagine their cries mean anything. They're undead, surely, so--"
"I think we can wager on that thing... not being real."
"Can we?" he asked.
Dimly lit, as always. The studded wood walls of Kaelserad encircled them, as the two lounged about... Alistair upon his fanciful leather chair, and Damien on the burgundy love seat at the edge of the room, hugging the walls. The night prior, they had gone out to the coast... to spy on the Coven. Though their information was far from solid, they had heard tale of mages moving about, shifting their energies from the Willow Woods into the interior of the land - Ne'haer's settlements, suburbs, and others.
They found mages, without great difficulty, as they knew the methodology of magi in hiding. Staring from the top of the cliffs, they witnessed them fluctuate from the cove, a den for them to hide in... burrowing like ants. All mages needed to hide, and build pits for themselves and their allies. But the Coven did so not because of their magic, but instead, their crimes. They were many, and varied, and gruesome - each action from every mage. They made... the world around them so much darker.
"I want to fight them," he said.
"The Coven?" Damien questioned.
"Yeah. But we are unable to do so, regardless of my whims. I know. They leave us alone because we leave them alone. But Acadia will become their target if we continue to agitate them. I... know." Alistair preempted everything that Damien would have said, knowing how ridiculous his antsy desire to fight back against the Coven was. It was foolish to poke at them, and prod. They needed patience. Ellasin had built her structures of power for over a hundred years, and no matter how strong they were individually, Alistair and Damien could not thwart her in a fortnight.
But he wondered. Would she even allow him to grow? What if Acadia became a true threat? She must've known, somehow, what he really wanted. To end her life. He'd never said as much, and he'd never made it obvious... but she had a sense for these things. She must have known.
"Damien," he whispered under his breath, clearing his throat. "I met Ellasin when she was... little. Before the magic, before the Lichdom. A hundred and fifty arcs ago," he claimed, staring precariously at the other mage. He knew that he would not be believed.
The Lich merely stared at him with confusion, his brow quirking. "Have you gone mad, Alistair?" Damien asked, narrowing his brows into his eyes.
Of late, every indication seemed to point to that conclusion. Damien had begun to lose faith in his apprentice, knowing that Fridgar's loss had taken a considerable toll. Each trial, he said another ridiculous, babbling thing. His mind was filled with skittering dreams.
