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Czeron awoke to a cacophony of pounding on his door. He stirred about
restlessly, wiping the sleep from his eyes. The rapping on his door
subsided, almost cut off. Quiet murmuring came from the door. He got
up and walked to his door. Arcane symbols were burned into the door,
long ago remnants of warding magic having failed. Yanking the door
open, Czeron saw his friend Saet, his face the mask of grief, and next
to him, a young female initiate of the Order of the Blood, somewhere
around sixteen or seventeen years of age.
Czeron looked at the two, and a chill entered his bones. Saet had
recently been crying. Tear stains lined his worried face. There was a
noticeable slump in his back, as if he carried a terrible burden. Such
strength carried in such a weak shell. His tired eyes had not slept in
days.
The girl's orange eyes were strangely out of place in contrast with
those of Saet. They were bright, lively, but also hollow, empty. Full
of life, and devoid of any feeling at the same time. A fearful
dichotomy. Her black hair was long, down to the middle of her back,
and was braided from the nape of her neck. Her black robe was crumpled
and worn, and looked to have not been changed in several days. Saet
spoke.
"Czeron, this is Lya. I found her among the hills this morning while I
traveled back from my search. She was off down near the ocean searching
for Anais. It was by chance encounter that I saw her within the trees.
She brings some terrible news."
She looked at Czeron, and tears distorted her vision. "I've seen what I believe to be your fiancé."
The chill in his bones iced his blood. Her voice itself resonated in
meanings that transcended words. But it was not her statement of
finding his fiancé that frightened him. The visions that he had held so
dear most of his life, that were a part of him even when he loathed
them, when he loved them, when he lacked them, were failing. Changing.
His visions were those of his wife dying. Now, he would never wed his
fiancé, never need to have his wife die, for she had died too soon. Lya
continued.
"I walked down to the Isar Ocean, following a trail that was often
difficult to find. It was at least three days old when I found it. I
walked the path for another day and a half until the ocean came into
view. The trail went straight into the ocean. Carnage was everywhere.
Blood oozed up from the sand when the tide rolled in. I saw blood,
skin, clothing. No body. Her..." Lya's voice faltered. She choked
back a sob. "Her head was stuck upon a post in the ground. I brought
it back with me as proof."
This sudden change in events affected him deeply. He could never
believe that his visions were the complete truth. Up to that point in
time, his visions had been flawless. Perfectly accurate in every
possible detail that he could think of. The death of his fiancé was
unexpected. He now doubted his very choice in joining the Order of the
Blood. He could not doubt one of his own order, but elected to see the
"proof" Lya had brought back with her.
"Czeron, would you please reconsider? I've seen...it...for myself.
Anais is dead. It is not a pleasant thing to look upon anymore. Her
face..." Saet tried to dissuade his friend, but was not effective.
"Saet, I must do this, not for my love of her, but for myself. She
spoke odd things to me last I saw her. Her death was too soon,
according to my visions." Saet stared at Czeron and his haunted words.
"I do this to re-evaluate who I am. To evaluate my need to be here.
I am here because of certain visions I was shown. Those visions have
been called now into question, and I must analyze what this means. Take
me to see her, one last time? Please?"
Lya and Saet nodded, more out of fear for their friend than out of their grief over the tragic loss of Anais. Czeron pulled on his soft
boots and followed the two out of his room and into the cold, early
morning halls of Ceros Draio.
They walked for a long while, traveling to the large Ivory Tower near
the Cathedral of Blood. The word of Anais' death had spread throughout
the community of the Order of the Blood. Women wept openly in the
streets, and men came over to give their condolences to Czeron. Anais
had been an upstanding member of the community, devout in her worship of
Ceros Draio and her upholding of his teachings. She had been a high
priestess of Ceros Draio, and her formal title was Illuminated Mistress,
but even so she never acted as if she were better than anyone else. In
fact, the decision she made that had been debated over for months was to
have everyone call her by her name, not her formal title. It meant a
lot to her, and the others acquiesced eventually to her request.
Walking to the tower seemed like an eternity. Czeron dreaded going
there as much as he forced himself to recognize that it meant a lot to
him. Each small delay both made the journey harder to bear but easier
to endure. Small glimpses that he didn't need to be there immediately
eased his sorrow somewhat, taking his mind off of things, but the
knowledge that he would have to get there eventually overcast the
occasions of halt.
His mind was tired, weary. A search had begun days ago, after Anais
disappeared. Members of the Order had spread out far from their
comfortable little hilly valley to find her. Searches ended with
nothing found, or despair from the searchers. A few, like Lya and Saet,
had traveled out farther than the rest, beyond the boundaries of their
territory, which stretched for some twenty miles around the valley.
Unfortunately, it was Lya who bore the grim tidings, among other things.
Czeron could feel the hatred turned towards Lya by those who greeted
him, and those who kept their distance from the little group. A few
people followed timidly behind, but Lya received many glaring stares.
On more than one occasion, objects were thrown her direction, but she
deftly dodged them. Such a little girl to be so hated at a young
age, thought Czeron.
They reached the Ivory Tower little more than two hours after they had
left Czeron's home, a mere twenty minutes away. It was a newer
addition, built long after Ceros Draio's death. The primary building
material was actually white marble, but it was called the Ivory Tower
because of the numerous ivory idols that members of the Order had
collected in their many travels and their many attempts to further the
knowledge of magic.
Each idol was catalogued and given a specific number to identify them,
but they were marked mystically, not physically. Simply an enchantment
of identification. To mark the surface of the idols would be to destroy
their magical potency. Several of the idols had been animated at one
time or another by magi seeking to understand the purpose of these
idols. The idols were found all over the planet, but none knew where
they came from. All that was known was that the Ivory Tower contained
the most powerful artifacts in the world. None could enter the
tower and remain unchanged.
Lya led the other two into the tower, knowing intimately every twist
and turn. They followed her around corners, up stairs, down well-lit
hallways. Czeron was quickly lost in the winding labyrinth Lya pulled
him into. Saet said nothing and followed last.
She stopped before a door with the body of a leopard carved upon it.
She pulled the door open and led the others in. Snapping her fingers, a
soft glow filled the room. Soon, the vast room was completely bathed in
light. There, sitting on a pedestal, carefully preserved in a prison of
amber, was the head of Czeron's fiancé, Anais.
Ceros Draio slept deep within the Cathedral of Blood. Rather, he
unslept, being one of the undead. He had retreated to the lower
catacombs and crypts of the cathedral after his return to life. It
will take time to become accustomed to this body, he reasoned. It
had been five days since his resurrection. None knew where he was
hidden, but they knew he was somewhere in the catacombs.
Catacombs he had built. Put his life into. Knew even after
dying and returning to life. Hidden paths, silent halls, he knew them
all. No, the mortals wouldn't find him here.
Ceros was afraid. Much had changed in his long absence. Times had
changed, his people had changed. He had hoped to return to a world with
an army of willing followers, but instead found that they followed
different precepts than the ones he once taught. How could he take
control, lead these people? He could not. They were no longer
his people. Those had died long millenia ago.
He was an anachronism, out of place in such times as these. A long
dead planeswalker. His powers had been great at that time, but now he
was in a physical shell incapable of channeling such power. He was
hardly better than the mortals who "worshiped" him. His only real
advantage was that he was already dead. No matter. He had found at
least one person who would serve him well.
Anais' head was savaged by the elements. Deep scratches and cuts
covered her face, which had long ago ceased to contain blood. Its
paleness made the face disappear in the warm glow of the vast room.
Half of her lower jaw was missing, as was her right ear. Her eyes were
gone. It was desecrated by more than the elements, her head was
violated by the chewing maws of violent creatures. Decay had set in,
overwhelming the smell of sea water. Even in the amber prison, the
pungency leaked through.
Lya stared at it coldly, dispassionately. Saet refused to look. He'd
seen such as this on the battlefield, often when the carnage was days
old. He knew what he'd see, and did not wish to. Czeron fell to the
floor and wept. A chill wind blew through the room.
Czeron wanted to die. He wished he'd never seen his beloved's head. He
wished that Lya and Saet had been better able to persuade him against
this course of action. But he had not allowed them to. Here was Anais'
head, shorn of a body that could not be found.
Lya placed her hand on Czeron's shoulder, and knelt next to him, trying
to comfort him. She pushed back the hair from his forehead and lightly
kissed him there. He fell against her shoulder and let the sobs take
him.
"I looked everywhere, but found no body. I'm sorry, Czeron, that
things turned out this way," Lya said.
"I'm sorry to, Lya," Czeron replied. "I've been gifted, or cursed,
with the ability to see the future. This was not the future I foresaw.
I'm so confused now. This...thing...shouldn't have happened. I...I
knew she was to die, but...this is too soon. It was not her time. Not
yet. She was to have died as my wife, not before. I...I don't know
what is going on in my life. Every action that I have taken has been
preordained, and now everything is unfamiliar. I don't know what to
do." The sadness, the despair, the confusion, all were mirrored in his
voice. What he had perceived as a gentle balance, now was over-weighed
on one side. He could no longer tell which side this was.
Lya cradled him in her arms. Her warm, smooth arms.
"It's all right. I see how you can be so confused. It must be like
waking up to find yourself in a strange house, far from any recognizable
landmarks," she said. "I'm here for you."
"Yes, that's it exactly. I can't find my way home." He grabbed her
hand and squeezed lightly. She stood up, and pulled him up with her.
He took a final look at his wife-to-be's head.
"Burn it," he said, his eyes filling with tears.
Without a backward glance, he left the room, Lya and Saet followed.
Later that night, after the funereal rights had been said, the amber
prison was cracked open, and Anais' remains were incinerated. The ashes
were mixed into a thick paste, which Czeron consumed. It was rather
bland, sooty. He had trouble swallowing the first few bites, more out
of sadness than loathing.
"This is not the way I would have had our souls combined, but it is the
best I can do under the circumstances," he was heard to remark. No one
really knows the veracity of this statement.
Czeron went to sleep that night with much on his mind. The day had in
no way been easier, and was made even harder by his spiritual meal. He
wished to seek comfort in his visions, to find some reason for what had
happened, but feared that he would be betrayed yet again. He found that
he longed to be in someone's embrace, to be loved, now that his own had
failed. His thoughts turned to the mysterious girl with the orange
eyes, Lya.
She was so compassionate during the day, a wall of support for him to
lean on almost from the moment he first saw her. She was there to
comfort him when she showed him Anais' remains, she was there when the
remains were incinerated, she sat next to him and held his hand until he
began to eat the ash mixture. She was so easy to be around.
His visions didn't allow him to sleep that night.
Yes, Anais was now Ceros Draio's perfect pawn.