Thomas was in his tower, studying. The Ruins of Elent were the ancient capital of the Elenthian people – the first race to exist on Ghomar, the inventors of Elenthir, and creators of magic. He was studying their creator deity, Aelor, who had split itself into twenty shards to empower leaders of the race.
But the statue...it's not just some fancy object, Thomas had eventually learned. It was the fossilized corpse of that deity. He reasoned that, when heroes died, their hero core would return to the deity, and when all twenty were returned, then the next summoning would occur. He also found records of heroes who had fled from their duties, were hunted down, and killed so that the summoning cycle could begin anew.
He had learned from these old records that Aelor's counterpart, Raevan, eventually destroyed the civilization. It frustrated Thomas to no end that he could not figure out why Raevan did that. His best guess was that Raevan was meant to keep the world in check. Ensure that no one gained power to rival the gods. A second, just as plausible theory, was that Raevan was like a system reset. To use a computer analogy, since Thomas was decent at that, Aelor was the person writing the code of creation, and Raevan was his delete button.
Perhaps Aelor was still alive in some capacity, despite the fossilized body that was the statue. Despite splitting itself into twenty hero cores. Thomas could only conjecture.
But here, in the tower, he was at peace. He heard Hector flapping outside and heard his crow of delight as he thudded to the balcony with some prey. Thomas got up, putting aside the tome he was reading through, and went out to scratch his buddy. Life was perfect.
But there was something lingering in the back of his mind. Something about this felt...off. He couldn't put his finger on it. But he was happy.
Giving Hector a few good behind-the-ear scritches, he took out his knife and began to carve up the sheep-like creature his emotional support wyvern had brought. "I'll make us a good meal buddy." Hector purred and nuzzled Thomas' hip, before moving his head to the small stove and packed supplies. "Oh? You want it spicy?" Hector nuzzled Thomas' torso, and the Knowledge hero chuckled. "Okay, anything you want, buddy."
James hated what he had to do. Killing Thomas' pet wyvern was a necessity; he had no clue what it was trained to do. What it could do. The former Knowledge hero was a wild card. James would not take any chances. He wanted to keep it so badly, to ride it through the skies like he had dreamed of when reading dragon-rider fiction...but it wasn't trained by him. It was dangerous. Fuck.
The statue of Aelor was gone. The hero cores, dispersed. And he had no fucking clue what that meant for the state of the world. But he couldn't focus on that; he had a kingdom to protect. Walking through the large doors, he took his seat to the right of King Kristoph. Other Advisors were at the table, but all showed James deference.
Kristoph was a young man, only twenty-one to James' own thirty-four. He had light, blonde hair and piercing, gold eyes. A sign of his royal heritage and right to rule the throne of Khrelardia. "The reports were verified?" he asked James.
James nodded and put the stack of papers on the large conference table. "They are accurate. Only armed personnel were slain by the raiders. The descriptions are on-point as well. They spoke in Shereldian, save for the leader. The description leaves no other possibility." This is going to get me yelled at... "It was Kory, the Berserker hero."
Kristoph took a deep breath, sipped from his cup of wine, and then let out the breath in a smooth exhale. That shocked James – the man had a violent temper, and the Paragon hero often had to keep the man in check. It wasn't difficult, if James had wanted, he could have deposed Kristoph and taken over as monarch; the people would have supported it. But the stresses of rule did not appeal to him.
Kristoph held up a letter, "Cecily Valagonia sent an emissary. Asking if we sent the Berserker hero into her territory."
James furrowed his brow, grabbing the offered letter and reading through it. What the hell is Kory up to? He knew that Cecily was eying expansion. There were several vassal-states in between Khrelardia and Valagonia, and the hodge-podge interlacing of territories was always a point of contention. He looked up at Kristoph, "It could be one of two things, in my opinion. The first is that Cecily is using this as a diversionary tactic while she builds her forces. The other is that she is actually being honest with us."
One of Kristoph's counselors spoke, "We have an agent within her court." The master of whispers pulled out a sheaf of parchment. "A letter with an odd language on the front." He slid the letter to James, "This is your world's language, I believe."
James grabbed the letter and ripped it open. Cecily is planning an invasion. She is having me work on combat stims. James, when you get this. Please, for the love of God. Get me the fuck out of here. I need to get to Trisha and get my junk fixed. Fucking bitch cut it off! Shit, I shouldn't have written that. Okay, look...I'm slow-rolling the production. If you can get me out, I'll help you bring her down. I know things that can damage her reputation. But man, she's like a fucking fantasy dictator. The stuff she's done to the Botan...Please, get me out of here. I'm in her palace. – Brad.
She had released focus on the minor shifting spell she had been using to suppress her draconic appearance, and the claws on both her hands and feet made traversing the terrain easy. She was even able to punch into the trunks of trees to take breathers, digging her claws in and affixing herself when she needed to catch her breath. Endurance is going to need improvement, she thought. There were body enhancing tinctures that could help with that...but nothing beat anaerobic exercise.
Eventually she discovered a clearing and was able to look up into the sky as she took heavy breaths from the exertion of her travel. The twin moons floated in the sky above, and the stars and distant galaxies left nothing but wonder in Lyn's eyes. I wonder if Ghomar is in the same Universe as my Earth, or if this is another reality entirely. She recalled the conversation with Nami, the Spellblade hero, when they sat in a similar glade after clearing their tenth dungeon.
"What do you think is up there? On the moons, I mean?" She had asked Lyn as the two cooked for the rest of the party that set up camp around them.
"Wouldn't it be crazy if there was some type of civilization up there?" Lyn chuckled as she turned the spit and brushed some butter and spices onto the boar they had hunted down and trussed up. "I bet Misty could make a spell to let us look up there and find out."
Nami laughed and laid back on the grass. "There is so much we don't know. I mean, are we even in the same reality as our home?" She raised her hand and held it up as if to grab the stars themselves and rip the answer down from the heavens. "What if Earth is out there, and we're just across the Universe? Or hell, even just across the Galaxy? The Milky Way is freaking huge."
Lyn chuckled, "You can curse, you know."
Nami sat up and stared daggers at Lyn, "If there's one thing I'm going to do here, its keep my morals. I'm not going to be like Cecily – off politicking and backstabbing. And I'm not going to be like Kory."
Lyn nodded as she looked up at the stars. "Who do you think named the moons, anyways?"
Nami shrugged, "Some ancient people." She smiled that gentle smile that could cheer any of the heroes up. "Enough of that, though. When is the food going to be ready?"
Lyn was pulled out of the happy memory by the sound of snapping twigs in the undergrowth. Wheeling towards the noise, she drew Cataclysm, and surged mana into the blade. The lava flowed up first, but then came the wind which wrapped it and extended the reach. But she saw something odd; the blade also surged with a deep, dirt-brown color, coruscating between the blue lava, the green wind, and the earthen strength. I knew it got stronger when it absorbed artifacts, but dungeon cores, too? No...it keys off of my mana cores; Destroyer for lava as a base, since it's the strongest. Scout for wind, and Mountain-Maker for earth. That part made sense to her. What did absorbing Rus'os'glar do? I mean, it's the wind spear-
As if responding to her thoughts, the sword shifted and twisted in her grip until it became a spear – a perfect copy of her old artifact weapon; save for the lava, wind, and earth limning the object. That is fucking badass! She twirled the spear around herself several times, pleased at the familiarity of the weight and grip from her past summoning. If she found more artifact weapons, she could get even more weapon-forms for Cataclysm. Versatility on a battlefield was a huge asset against a thinking opponent, and from the feel of the weapon, she could shift its form at will.
She glanced up at the sky once more to confirm her position. This time of year, with the star cluster to the left of the twin moons, she knew she was in the Southern part of the Valley of the Volcano. Speaking in Arinol, she raised her voice, but allowed the guttural growl of the draconic tone to rip through the air rather than her usual tone. "I am Lady Rivers, the Destroyer, returned. Come out and let us talk about rekindling our alliance."
There was movement, and her eyes darted to a figure who stepped out from the tree line. He was a Newen, one of the lizard-folk. Walking on two legs, with a long tail that slinked along the ground behind him, and a cool, green appearance; his flared frill firmly identified him as a male. "The Demonic Dragon, you have returned?"
Lyn nodded and lowered the spear, "Yes. That is correct." I'm the Destroyer. Façade back on. Keep the mask going. She walked forward slowly, letting the spear shift back into the sword form, as it extended out to her side. "Will you take me to your leaders?"
The Newen nodded, "Strike Commander Slanosh, at your service, your mightiness."
She smirked and put up her blade, socketing the hilt into her hip plate. "Lead the way to your encampment."