Out of Darkness, Part 5

The Knight struck the obsidian floor again. The enchanted blade of Durendal clanged against black stone and sent a tiny splinter of it flying into the dark. A drip of sweat splashed on her gauntlet. The harder she worked, the more pressure the void seemed to exert, weighing down every movement as if she were submerged in mud. Aveline's confidence began to wane. 

“You must let go of your guilt, your anger. Durendal can amplify your will, but if you fight against yourself, there’s no way you’ll break free of this place.” Roland admonished his daughter. When Aveline stabbed downward again with a low growl of frustration, he shook his head. “Circumstances may seem dire, but what are you so afraid of?”

“That I am a monster. That I’ll fail again. That outside this prison awaits nothing but suffering.” The Knight raised her sword and swiped toward her feet. “That I’ll be trapped for eternity, useless and alone.” The sword ineffectually struck the floor again and rattled in her weakened grip. Exhausted, Aveline leaned over, then dropped to one knee, struggling to catch her breath. The gloom of the soul trap pressed ever closer to her as Roland’s aura continued to fade.

For a long time before Roland’s appearance, Aveline imagined that the true horror of the void was the stagnant nothingness. That the whispers in the dark were her own mind’s conjuring and that her comrades who withered or disappeared were taken by madness and decrepitude. But with Roland’s revelation, she knew the place was alive. Sentient and hungry, it preyed on the weakness of those trapped within. With each useless strike, Aveline was reminded of her failure and those doomed to suffer because of it.

“When I was trapped long ago as you are now, I knew not what fate awaited me. All hope had fled. But a void walker came upon my sorry soul and explained that the darkness could bind me only if I allowed it. It seemed so simple. In despair I had imprisoned myself.” Roland stood beside his daughter and put a steady hand on her shoulder. “No man or woman among your comrades would wish you the shame you heap on yourself. Your fears, your guilt… There is much I don’t know, but I can say with certainty they are of no use to you.”

The Knight considered her father’s words and wondered at his past imprisonment. Deep in her heart, a wary hope took hold that she would one day hear his story. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came to her. Why should she survive where others had fallen? And what efforts could possibly satisfy the souls of the lost?

“I’m sorry, but our time together is at an end. If I don’t leave soon, there will be little of me left to greet you on the other side.” Roland offered a melancholy smile. The bright brilliance of his form had faded to a dim translucence. “Beware of Ixiel. The Kingdom is his. Enemies lurk everywhere, but friends can be found if you look for them.”

Fearful of parting, Aveline felt much younger than her nineteen years. “But if I cannot escape this place… What becomes of me? And if I do, what then?” She paused. The Knight could hear the childish anguish in her selfish questions and was ashamed.

“Look to the West. If I yet live, you’ll find me in Mare. You’ll figure out the rest.” Roland grinned, his form now little more than a shadow. Still, his eyes shimmered with pride. Aveline raised herself up, straight and true. “And no matter what happens, Aveline, remember this: Neither fear nor guilt spurred me to search the void for you. I searched because I believe in you. You are my daughter. You are a Knight. I know you will succeed. Farewell.”

Where a moment before the Great Knight had stood, his phantom evaporated into nothing. She looked around her, but even the remaining soldiers had disappeared. Like water rushing into a vacuum, Aveline was quickly filled with a sudden sense of isolation. If she let it, she knew the solitude would transform into despair. Instead, she remembered Roland’s final words, his pride, and his faith. The Knight closed her eyes and breathed deep.

In her hands, Aveline felt the hilt of Durendal, the sword’s familiar weight tensing the muscles in her forearms. Her feet shifted against the obsidian floor until they were as steady as stone beneath her shoulders. Cloak and armor fit close like a second skin, separated from her body by only a thin layer of sweat. The Knight recited the tenants again, spurious bravado this time replaced with solemn resolve.

“Move with purpose. Steel your heart. Guard against injustice.”

She thought of Roland, of the men and women to whom she had pledged her life, of the parents she lost before the Great Knight became her only family. They all believed in her, confident in her promise and potential. Their example and guidance had fostered the person she was proud to be. Most were dead and gone, but their memory lived on in her. In that moment, the Knight Aveline knew in her heart that as a daughter, as a leader, as a knight, responsibility demanded her bravery and action.

The Knight breathed in deep again and raised her sword above her head. Beneath the gauntlet on her left hand, the sigil glowed, its soft red light illuminating a peaceful countenance. Relaxed and ready, the trembling tension that suffused her before had dissipated. With a confident shout that rejuvenated her tired soul, Aveline struck the floor again.

The void shattered around her.

In the dark cavern at the center of the Monticolus, an obsidian block exploded violently in a blinding blast of white light. Shards of black stone disintegrated against the smooth, untouched faces of the hundreds of blocks that still stood. The Azure Knight stepped out of the smoldering shadows, transformed and drained. Finally free, Aveline smiled, then collapsed to sleep. 

Out of Darkness, Part 4

Roland’s voice was nearly a whisper, his mouth a halfhearted smile. “The mark you bear is one of demonic origin. It is the Sigil Immortalitas.” He held his daughter’s hand as his face grew more wistful. “Tyrannus’s magic. Aveline, how did you get this?”

“Before he died, before we were swallowed by the dark, Aurleon bestowed it upon me.” Roland’s harried expression worried Aveline. She had seen it only a handful of times before. The hope of his brilliant aura seemed to dim from moment to moment. The withered soldiers drew ever closer, pacified by the red light of the sigil. ”In those last moments, he seemed at peace. Like he had done some good. The truth, father. Please.”

“The Sigil Immortalitas grants the bearer corporeal immortality. As long as you carry it, you cannot be killed by physical injury. But its power comes at a price.” For the first time in their conversation, Roland turned away. A note of trepidation had crept into his voice. He gestured toward the gloom around them as he continued. “This ‘soul trap,’ as I call it – this void was created by Tyrannus. Linked to the obsidian crystals in which you were imprisoned, those here are neither alive nor dead. While their bodies rot in Valerius, their souls suffer here alone in the dark, slowly drained of the spiritual essence on which the primordial demon sustains itself.”

Aveline could barely contain her rage. “I suspected, but hoped to the gods it weren’t true. The people of Monticolus, my comrades… Their noble lives are but food for the fiend?” The Knight clenched her fists so tight her bones were on the verge of breaking. Around her, the shambling remains of those to whom she’d pledged glorious victory moaned incoherently. They had been denied the dignity of death. Melancholy waves of fury washed over Aveline. In that moment she felt more powerless than ever before.  

“Aveline, it gets worse. This is hard for me to say...” Roland turned back toward his daughter, but hesitated. “The sigil you bear is linked to the primordial demon. So long as Tyrannus exists in Valerius, you are immortal.” As the Great Knight watched his words take hold, the weary spark of understanding caught fire and bloomed in his daughter’s eyes. “The truth is that you, too, are sustained by those trapped here.”

The Knight Aveline froze as if stabbed. Her rage vanished suddenly, like a match blown out by the wind. The void warped around her, the darkness beyond the dim lights at once overwhelmingly vast and claustrophobic. She collapsed to her knees, her breath caught in her throat. Silence filled the space between father and daughter.

Roland longed for a means to comfort her, but there were no words to assuage the cruelty of fate. He knew Aveline would need to make peace with this herself. He had tremendous faith in her resilience, but this...

Eyes closed, Aveline spoke. “As I watched them disappear one by one, I wondered ‘Why do I persist?’ Now I have my answer.” The Knight was quiet again, and thought to herself for a long time.

Many times, she had felt the weight of command, of responsibility, but this revelation felt larger, more overwhelming, than even the quest to stop Ixiel. The souls of those who perished in this place demanded she act. When Aveline opened her eyes, she stood, and a look of grim determination had transformed her countenance. “Roland, you came here of your own accord. How do I free myself from this prison?” 

“You must know, Aveline… Outside of this place things have changed. Time holds no sway over the void. With Valerius in disarray and your army eliminated, Ixiel assumed control of the Kingdom at the demon’s behest. War rages. Ruthless, violent creatures stalk every domain, preying on the people. Torment beyond reckoning.” Roland grasped his daughter’s shoulders. “Decades have passed. I fear it may be too late to turn the tide.”

For the first time, Aveline saw despair in her father’s eyes. And as his aura continued to dim, the truth of Roland’s appearance was revealed. To her it had been little more than a year since last they’d met, but beneath the light, Roland was old, more battered and venerable than she remembered. The lines around his mouth, always before lifted with a sardonic grin, fell downward in a stony grimace.

“Move with purpose. Steel your heart. Guard against injustice. These are the tenets you taught me.” The young Knight touched her father’s hand. His grip softened as she stepped away, her posture dignified, her eyes flashing with serious purpose. “Tyrannus must be vanquished. Ixiel must pay for what he’s done. The people must be protected. This sigil may be a curse, but if hardship awaits, I could ask for no better a blessing.”

Aveline replaced her gauntlet and tossed her tattered blue cloak behind her shoulder. She clutched Durendal, the gleaming blade, and awaited the Great Knight’s instruction. “Hope is borne of sorrow,’ you said. Tell me, father. What hope did you find in the west?” 

Out of Darkness, Part 3

Roland spoke. “Before you were of an age to care, King Aren – Aurleon’s father and a slothful waste of a man – was assassinated. This extraordinary event sent the sovereign’s administration into hysterics. Aren’s predecessors had transformed the Rite of Authority into a farce, but Aurleon was still too young to legitimately compete and no one was keen to kill the child of a murdered monarch.” The tired, brilliant Knight sighed. “Ixiel persuaded the council that given the unusual circumstances, the burden of ruling should stay with Aurleon and his advisors until he was of age to defend his position. This blatant an inheritance of power was unprecedented.”

“Fate smiles on the fiend,” Aveline muttered sarcastically. The sorcerer’s influence was plain.

“Yes. Apparently Aren had considered this possibility, undoubtedly at the urging of Ixiel himself. And though the King depended on my skills for military success, he resented my personal popularity. Decades on the war fronts gained me a reputation among the soldiers and the people, but little in the way of respect from this man. When he deigned to look at me, I could see fear behind his eyes. It brought me no small measure of joy.” At this, Roland laughed to himself. For a moment, Aveline forgot her mounting anger and smiled at her father.

“Aurleon was six years old – the same age as you when we first crossed paths – and according to the King’s will, Ixiel was charged with the boy’s tutelage. Though I considered Ixiel’s appointment the crowning achievement in the long history of Aren’s mistakes, honor left me no choice but to abide by his wishes.” Roland rose from where he was sitting and paced back and forth, weary to recount what came next.

“As I raised you to knighthood, Ixiel raised that boy to servitude. Before Ixiel assumed control, Aurleon was a vigorous, confident child, who displayed a surprising aptitude for magic. But in each encounter with him since Ixiel became his tutor, it was more and more apparent he was suffering. A marked decrease in energy. A sallow, drained appearance. I had always been skeptical of Ixiel and his meritless appointment to Archwizard, but over the years, as the man gained more unbridled influence, my suspicions grew. I dispatched spies to track the man. The disturbing reports that returned spoke of nights alone and chats in darkened corridors with unseen collaborators in a foreign tongue.

“I tried desperately to counteract the Archwizard’s foul influence by tutoring Aurleon myself when I could, requesting his presence on the field whenever possible. But my duties as Great Knight called me far away from the capitol. There were military campaigns to manage and you to train.

“I hoped the King was not beyond reason. Ixiel was subtle and determined in his corruption, but his pupil had not yet been fully compromised. For this Aurleon had his kind-hearted sisters to thank. After more than a decade of waiting for the right opportunity, a chance finally presented itself. An empty attempt at diplomacy called Ixiel away and a voracious storm had delayed his return. I thought the fates smiled on my endeavor. We talked long into the night, me espousing tales of war, him asking after you.” Roland grinned at Aveline.

She blushed and looked away. “Get on with it, old man.” Roland sat back down, only a few feet from his daughter. When he spoke again, his voice was possessed with vehemence.

“I told the King I was troubled by a sensitive topic. A skilled magician in his own right, Aurleon assured me our conversation was safe from observation. Even so, we spoke in quiet, conspiratorial tones. I told him that I believed Ixiel was possessed of dark magic, and that after countless hours of observation, I suspected the primordial demon Tyrannus was Ixiel’s benefactor. I feared dismissal, but to my surprise, Aurleon responded in earnest. He confided that although he had learned much from the Archwizard, he also wondered about Ixiel’s intentions of late.

“Suddenly, Aurleon stopped talking. His mouth hanged open and his eyes were dark. A voice issued forth from frozen, motionless lips.” Roland paused. He thought for a moment, then shook his head and continued. “The voice was Ixiel’s. A grating laugh was followed by a cryptic warning: ‘Step lightly, Great Knight.’ I’d heard whispers of powerful magics, but this was a realm apart. Ixiel relinquished his control and Aurleon returned to himself. In that moment, it was clear: Aurleon’s rule had come to an end. Ixiel now controlled the fate of Valerius.”

Roland spoke rapidly, clearly distressed. “Despite his protests, I took my leave of the young King and fled the city. I knew there was nothing more I could do in Valerius. My hands were tied by my position. Uncertain of what time remained before catastrophe, I made arrangements to travel west immediately, where I hoped I would uncover a means to thwart the Archwizard. Unfortunately, this meant leaving you on the war front.”

Aveline interrupted. “I didn’t know what had happened to you. When Durendal arrived by messenger, I feared you were dead.”

“After years of training you, watching you grow into a formidable Knight, I had absolute faith in your abilities. You are the best I’ve ever seen. Perhaps even better than myself, unbelievable as that is.” Roland chuckled, saw Aveline was not amused, and cleared his throat. “I knew the weapon would serve you better than it would me.”

The Knight Aveline was overwhelmed by emotion. Betrayal, shame, and resentment flushed her cheeks and rushed her heart. “But why didn’t you explain? Alert me to the danger? Surely I could have helped you! When the King informed me of your disappearance, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that you would flee when we needed you most.”

“I had no idea what Ixiel was capable of, only that his power was surely beyond us. I feared for your safety and thought the less you knew of Ixiel’s machinations, the less of a threat you might be. I never anticipated you would be chosen to pursue the betrayer and lead the army. I’m uncertain if the choice was even Aurleon’s or Ixiel’s.”

“You suspect my command was orchestrated, perhaps as retaliation against you?”

“I don’t know. It’s easy to imagine the puppet master’s meddling – his long fingers reaching out to corrupt everything with their touch. Luring an army of thousands into a hopeless trap would be an inarguably effective means of clearing a path to unchallenged control. When word spread of your defeat, Aveline, I was devastated.”

“I tried to do what you would have. Be who you were – a legend, a hero.” At this, Aveline grew pensive. “And look where those efforts left us.” She looked around her, but there was little to see in the darkness. The few remaining soldiers muttered to themselves, distraught over everything they heard. Aveline could barely recognize them. It wouldn’t be long before they faded into oblivion like the rest. She wondered what fate awaited her, and whether Roland had a plan.

“I’m sorry, Aveline.”

The two knights fell silent. Aveline cast her gaze down at the floor between her boots. She absentmindedly traced the hilt of her sword with her fingertips. Roland sat cross-legged, watching Aveline.

Without explanation, the Knight removed her gauntlet and showed Roland the back of her hand. The mark bestowed by Aurleon glowed more brightly than ever, as if determined not to be outshone by Roland’s incandescence. The withered soldiers shuffled back toward the warm, familiar red light. “And this mark. What do you make of it?”

Roland’s collected demeanor was undone with a gasp. He grabbed Aveline’s hand, examined the symbol, then peered deep into his daughter’s eyes. His face was transformed by emotion, his melancholy tone abruptly infused with energy. Roland smiled and said, “Hope is borne from sorrow, young Aveline.”

Out of Darkness, Part 2

It was almost impossible to look at Roland given how much time Aveline had spent in the gloom. His radiance drove back the dark. Aveline’s eyes took time to adjust and after an impatient moment of waiting, she managed to look at the figure. The strange circumstances aside, she had never been so pleased to see her father.

“Hello, Aveline. It’s been… too long.” Roland’s voice sounded hollow and far away. As if heard across the distance of a lake, it lacked the forceful warmth with which Aveline had once been so familiar. The apparition returned her smile with his lips, but his eyes were impassive and expressionless. The Knight worried her father’s appearance was some new torment, specially crafted by Ixiel to magnify her suffering.

Roland towered over Aveline, and though he carried himself with his usual confidence, she could see his once resplendent armor was battered and torn in places. He looked tired, worn out. But here, in her lowest moment of shame, she wanted nothing more than to impress him and hide her failure. She struggled to maintain her smile and match Roland’s presence, but as the shock of his appearance subsided, she found her elation crumbling to embarrassment. A thousand questions raced through Aveline’s head. It was difficult to start.

“How is this possible?” Aveline moved closer to Roland and held out a hand. Roland grasped it firmly. Tears welled in Aveline’s eyes. The Knight struggled to regain her composure. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. “Seeing you here, I can hardly believe it. Your presence revives me.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Years of wandering this soul trap fearing the worst, and I finally find you healthy and whole. A welcome surprise. ” Roland’s grin expanded across his face and he chuckled. “Thanks to an excellent teacher, no doubt.”

“I don’t understand. So much has happened. Ixiel, the crystals, Aurleon…” Aveline stepped away from Roland and turned her back to him. She looked at the few soldiers who still remained, huddled together in the dark. They seemed on the brink of madness. A cold weight pressed down on the Knight’s heart. She knew she may soon be alone in this place. “I’ve failed, Roland.” She admitted this with a forlorn sigh of frustration.

“Where did you go? Why did you leave us? Leave me?” Aveline’s voice wavered with accusation.

“I know the hardships you’ve suffered. I’m sorry.” The Great Knight Roland stepped behind Aveline and touched her shoulder. His smile disappeared, his voice lowered almost to a whisper. “There is much you must know. Much still left to do. Please, let’s sit and talk like we used to.” He gestured to the obsidian floor and crossed his legs as he sat. Aveline looked again at her withering comrades. For their sake, she hoped this was not some foul deception. Trembling fingers wiped water away from her weary eyes. She would shed no tears in front of this man. The Knight turned and lowered to the floor within striking distance of the apparition. Durendal, unsheathed and ready, lay close by her side.

The two sat in silence for a time, before Roland finally began. “I see my sword has served you well.”

Aveline reached out and touched Durendal’s hilt. “How do I know you are who you appear to be?”

Roland thought for a moment. “Soon after I became your guardian, you woke me late one night. I swatted you away, exhausted by the day. Before long, you returned, and told me you couldn’t remember the faces of your father and mother. I looked into your bloodshot eyes. You were too young to be so racked with torment and guilt. I was a knight, not a parent. But I searched desperately for the right words and settled on these: ‘Aveline, time has made memories of many, but you won’t be one of them. Wherever you go, I will always be with you.’ I hugged you then. I’d never had cause to hug anyone before.” Roland paused, chuckled, and added, “And, well, here I am.”

Aveline lowered her head, as if meditating on his words. She wondered then if this were her own madness given shape, but shook her head and dismissed the thought, caught up for the moment in the memory of a time long past. Fingers crossed in front of her, she looked at Roland. A somber smile lifted her lips. “Tell me everything.” 

Out of Darkness, Part 1

The Knight Aveline sat alone in the void. A vast plane of darkness stretched out endlessly on every side. Within that darkness, Aveline could hear the cries and lamentations of all those soldiers imprisoned within the black stones of Ixiel.

They had failed. She had failed. And together they had been exiled to a listless fate, cast into the gloom to waste away. From this prison, there appeared to be no escape.

Whatever hope Aurleon had bid the Knight in his final moments, it had been in vain. To think of the King and his death racked Aveline with guilt. She wanted to say something to those who suffered in the dark with her, but bold words would not come. She thought of her pledge to the army, before their assault on Ixiel’s stronghold. Blind arrogance had doomed them all and it seemed that the Archwizard was right. The Azure Knight was not worthy of legend. Despondent and silent, she closed her eyes and pulled her legs to her chest. The magic sword, Durendal, lay abandoned beside her.

After a time, Aveline felt a cold, burning sensation on the back of her left hand. She opened her eyes, and to her surprise, was able to see a soft glow emanating from beneath her gauntlet. She removed the armor, then her glove, and gasped. There, emblazoned on her skin, was the same sigil the once immortal King Aurleon had brandished on his hand. The demonic symbol glowed brightly in the darkness.

For those who held onto their sanity, Aveline became a beacon, a keeper of the light. Her sigil lit the darkness and restored some small measure of hope. Like moths, the weary soldiers gathered around and pressed together in the dark. When one would succumb to depression and leave the circle to sit alone, others would move in close, all to find a way to the light. They swapped stories of times gone by, of those who had departed. Despite her guilt, she resolved to lead them for as long as she could. She hoped her fortitude would give them strength.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. The demonic brand pulsed red, illuminating the faces of those nearest to her. She struggled to find the words of encouragement, but again she came up short. Optimism seemed disingenuous in the oppressive vastness of the void. The best she could offer was a respite from fear.

But the soldiers’ spirits were broken. Whatever magic made this prison, it altered the natural flow of things and suspended the reign of time. Men need not eat, but wasted away all the same. Some lost their sanity and disappeared raving into the dark, while many others simply expired, waiting for their time to run out. All semblance of hope having fled, their bodies withered. Only Aveline remained young and strong, as fixed a pillar of outward fortitude as she had been when first confined.

An immeasurable stretch of time passed. The number of survivors began to dwindle and with their sanity, the bonds of fellowship slowly evaporated. Their fleeting victory against the shadow beast of Aurleon faded in their memory. None called the man “King.” All that remained was the bitter disappointment of defeat and wild speculation over the fate of Valerius, the land they’d loved. With the combined forces of Valerius defeated, what would become of the people? Who would oppose Ixiel and his foul scheme? The soldiers cursed themselves, cursed Ixiel, cursed the gods and even sometimes cursed the Knight Aveline.

Soon, only a handful of soldiers remained. They had been the most stalwart in life, among the Knight’s most trusted and reliable warriors. A solemn calm had descended on them all as they waited to disappear. Aveline wondered what would become of her once the last had withered away and she was left alone.

Out of the darkness, an incandescent figure bathed in white light appeared, only steps away from Aveline. Its armor resembled her own, but the man was unarmed. The tall man exuded confidence and were it not for the harsh light, his presence may have been reassuring. Despite their courage, the remaining soldiers were frightened and withdrew, their mouths agape. Having seen abominable horrors, they expected the worst.

The Knight Aveline stood and replaced her gauntlet. For the first time in a very long time, she smiled.

“Hello, father.”