“It has been seven days, Magus Medulis. When shall our liege be free of this torment? It pains me to imagine the suffering he may be under.” Frezar stood in front of the orb of rotating flames. Only the barrier the Magus had created stopped the heat from turning the surrounding stone to glass and all those that neared into ash.
“I-I don’t know.” Medulis replied. sitting in a state of disheaval. Her auburn hair ran wild and nails bitten through. “There is more at play than even I can decipher. I just don’t know.”
Frezar turned to stare at her hunched form, sitting in his shade on a creaking chair. The orb of flame lit up the room making it useless to bring in lights or torches. To most, it would be far to strong of a light for their eyes, yet all his honor guard were far enough on their Path to endure.
He looked at her with a squint of concern. Something was wrong, the mage was unraveling at the seems. This was something he had not expected, especially from a graduate of the institute of the mad as he was fond of calling it. It was better known as Garn.
“Magus Medulis...you do not seem yourself.”
“W-what? What do you mean?” Medulis looked away. She was unwilling to give him any form of eye contact. it was perfectly clear she was not feeling ok. Something was wrong and she was bound to speak up to him.
“Speak. For I take no chances in any endangering my liege. Even if it means breaking the seal on my power. Especially to the likes of someone as capable as you or Magus Clay. I would not Hesitate to end you or him.”
“I-It it noth-”
“Utter no lies. They may be your last.”
Medulis took a deep breath, her body shaking for a moment. “I-I feel useless!” She jumped to her feet, her eyes burning with heat. “There I said it! Do you feel accomplished, Master of the Dead.”
Frezar’s eyes widened as a hidden blade of bone materialised in his outstretched hand. They slowly narrowed, this time without a hint of the kindness he was so renowned for.
But that was not enough to stop Medulis because she knew more to him. She knew he could not act upon his powers or the world would hunt him day and night. He was already towing the line with drawing a legendary weapon as his from thin air.
“I said it, I feel worthless,” she said in a whisper. “Here I stand raging and I know without a doubt that my liege suffers within that ball of flame. Everyone looks to me to somehow lessen that suffering. What good am I as a researcher if what I have done is of no use? Frezaragoul, Greatest Disaster of Recorded History, servent of the Duke of Flames before and now this boys. What am I to do, when the most I can accomplish is to move our liege into the city and nothing more?”
Frezar stared at her for a moment before he allowed his blade to dematerialize. That cold glint melted away and with it returned that old caring expression he usually carried. Turning around, he didn’t speak to her though he knew she waited for his answer.
“Frezaragoul, I have wracked my brains, yet I’ve only recalled myths and stories about the Old Ones. The most understandable mess between them spoke of beings so powerful they could call continents their domains. That they had arrived from a distant land beyond ours, cultivating our world to become the rich grounds they had been ages ago. In one poem, they called the Karashque not but a child in comparison to those behemoths.”
Frezar chuckled. “You think I would know?”
“Without a doubt.” She didn’t even hesitate for a second.
He laughed. “Yes, I do remember. Though they are memories I wish to never recall.”
“Why? Were they not the beginning of our history. The reason we carry the powers we have today? Were they not the light that brought us out of the darkness of our savagery and into true civilization.”
Frezar swung his head, eyes burning with an amount of hatred that was palpable even to Medulis. In shock she fell back to her seat in suffocation.
“You fools from Garn fail to understand the evils that existed before my age. You’ve forgotten who it was that cleansed the world enough for civilization to exist. My brothers in arms and I fought for centuries to rid us from the yolk of oppression. The sapient existences of this world were nothing more than slaves and cattle to be used and feed upon. The Old Ones were not caring as you seem to clearly believe. Rather, they would split your soul open just for a chance to gain what they want without a single hesitation.
I remember the day the epitome of fire transcended sucking most of the power of the world with him, weakening his Kin in the process. There was no warmth in his actions no kindness in his soul. He was a cold predator that could only see the world in its value to him and his goals. I remember sinking the Domain of Death to the bottom of the ocean and gaining the accursed ability to control their rise and fall.
I remember the evils and pain, the...experiments the epitome of Death had done for his own transcendence. He thought us to unlearned to savage to ever learn. But we did! We made him pay for it!
