Chapter 1345 - Into Blackest Night (Part 1)

Chapter 1345 - Into Blackest Night (Part 1)

’That f.u.c.ker. How could Fallmug be so cruel toward his own children after naming them after himself? I wish that the Blackest Day really made the boundaries of the spirit world thinner so that I could send my Demons to torture his soul.’ Lith thought.

’Are we talking about Fallmug or Ezio?’ Solus asked.

’Both.’ The memory of Lith’s Earth father overlapped with that of Zinya’s late husband, hitting close to home.

’They are gone now and their ghosts can hurt you only if you allow them to. Don’t let them ruin this night for any of us.’ She said.

After pondering her words, Lith bought Frey and Filia anything they stared at for more than five seconds until they found the courage to tell him what they really liked or disliked.

Then, he took them with him in the air, flying slowly through the starry sky above Lutia to show them that dreams could come true and that not all a.d.u.l.ts extended their hands out of violence.

At first, the kids held to Lith’s arms with all of their strength, but soon wonder replaced fear and they loosened their grip, trusting that he would never let them go. He brought them down only when the fireworks were about to start.

"Lark sure made it big for the fair this year." Raaz said while staring at the Emperor Beast-shaped lights in the sky. "I hope he makes his appearance soon so that I can get a bit of rest."

The Ruler of the County always took part in Lutia’s Blackest Day. Lark usually arrived when the celebrations reached the zenith and he had a special table set up for him by the village elders.

It was the only not crowded place so that Lark could get in and out quickly, leaving him enough time to chit-chat before moving to the next village. The Count would always welcome Raaz as an honorable guest and after bouncing around like a pinball, he could use a chair.

Lark Household, that very moment.

During all of his life, Trequill Lark had always considered magic as the source of the amazing marvels and of the awe-inspiring miracles that happened in every corner of Mogar, even in his small, irrelevant fief.

Until that night, he had never understood how truly terrifying the other side of that coin was.

His beautiful garden was on fire and the statue of the first Count Lark that for centuries had stood sentry over the very home he had built was now in shambles. An earth blade had cut Pontus, the old butler, in half, filling the air with the stench of guts, piss, and shit.

Hilya, the head chef, had been burned alive by some kind of heat ray and her corpse smelled like overcooked pork. She had annoyed Lark for years with her obsession for Raaz being his son and now the Count would never hear her petulant voice again.

The left and the right wings of the mansion had been destroyed by the same rain of spells that had killed the members of the Queen’s Corps that, unbeknownst to Lark, had been assigned to his protection.

They had fought valiantly, but the air sealing array surrounding the Lark household had kept them from Blinking, flying, and even from calling reinforcements before it was too late.

The Count couldn’t stop crying at the thought that the greatest demonstration of magic he had ever seen would also be the last. All because of one man, dr.a.p.ed in the deep blue robe of an Archmage that now flapped in the chilly wind of the night.

"How could you do that? Killing so many innocent people?" Lark looked at the ruins of his house, wondering how many were buried under the rubble. Maybe they were still alive, but not for long.

"After all this Country has done for you, how could you betray it? How could you betray your oath to protect it?" Lark stood tall, unwilling to die on his knees in front of a filthy traitor.

"I’ve given all my life to this shithole and what have I gotten in return? Nothing." His voice was coarse, filled with the poison of deep-seated hatred and grudge. "The Kingdom has taken everything from me, it’s only right that I take it back."

The man pointed a slender finger, conjuring an ice shard that pierced Lark’s head and another that blew a hole where his heart was. The Lord of L.u.s.tria County died painlessly, his eyes closed only after the light had already disappeared from them.

"I did warn you, Lark. You should have listened." The man dispelled the array and took flight.

It took him only a few words and gestures of his hands to make so that the corpses and the rubble formed one word: Past.

***

Village of Lutia, that very moment.

"Thanks for allowing me to spend some time with the kids before going to the Flying Griffon." Kalla said while mowing down the crowd with the grace of an elephant.

She looked like a woman in her thirties, about 1.75 meters (5’9") tall, with cold blue eyes, shoulder-length raven black hair, and a lithe frame. Yet she still had the mass of her Wight form and no hesitation to use it to force people to move away from her path.

Many turned around, ready to curse at her and her ancestors, but her stern expression and the odd way the shadows of the lamps seemed to avoid her made the odd woman look like something straight out of a ghost story.

"Don’t mention it." Scarlett had her human appearance as well.

She looked like a villager in her thirties, about 1.67 meters (5’7") tall. Her shoulder-length ashen gold hair had red streaks all over and she wore a gold-rimmed pince-nez on her nose.

The body Scarlett had shapeshifted into was pretty enough to get hefty discounts for the huge amounts of food that she bought from the stalls that caught her nose’s attention, but not gorgeous enough to cause her problems.

The Scorpicore had even shapeshifted Nok into a burly and hairy young man, over 2 meters (7’) tall. Most citizens of Lutia had wardrobes smaller than him which coupled with his raven-black long hair and beard made people think twice before approaching the odd group.

Nok didn’t like standing on two legs and even less wearing clothes. To make matters worse, Scarlett used him as a porter, forcing him to keep several huge plates filled with local delicacies on his head, shoulders, arms, and even on his forearms.

He looked like something in between a professional waiter and a juggler. The Scorpicore occasionally throwing food in his mouth to keep him from running away made the scene even more absurd.

"Don’t you think that your children are a bit old to enjoy the Blackest Day?" Faluel asked.

"I never brought them to any fair, so no. Besides, Nyka should learn to appreciate the traditions established by the Red Mother." Kalla said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Today is actually the Black Dawn, the moment when the undead can spend more time outside than the living. Ghosts have nothing to do with the celebration, it’s just the way the humans teach their children to be afraid of strangers they might meet in the dark." Kalla replied.