Sage of the Forlorn Path
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Across Eternity: Book 7 - Chapter 17
🕑 Added 2025-08-28 01:58:45 +0000 UTCTHIS STORY CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT AND ADULT THEMES AND SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE UNDER 18.
Fire and Light
Ziradith watched as Ragar’s minions labored, carefully assembling Zyrga’s skeleton. The bones had arrived ahead of schedule, and soon the ritual would begin. It was happening in a fortress near Duravound, built into a cliff overlooking the lake. The original plan had been to perform the ritual in the city, but thanks to Noah’s meddling, anything entering or leaving Duravound was subject to rigorous inspection. The inspectors would not know what to look for, but anyone who saw the bones would instinctively realize that they were not simple remains. They exerted a heavy presence simply by looking at them, each one feeling like a person glaring right back at them.
Even now, Ziradith couldn’t help but shiver as she watched the skeleton come together, feeling like she could hear Zyrga’s excited breathing as he awaited his resurrection. Part of her screamed in her mind that she should be running, that she should have nothing to do with this, and that a horrible fate awaited everyone involved. She couldn’t shake the feeling that even her unborn child was recoiling in her womb, wanting to get away from the evil remains. There was so much power still in those bones, evil and pungent, that made all mortals instinctively cower at the presence of this monster. Yet her soul, burning with endless hate and malice, welcomed the sickening sensation, for it proved her expectations.
Her savior was before her, her messiah, soon to smite her enemies and give her the power to achieve her dreams. That was what she craved; the dark, agonizing death of all life, as punishment for refusing to bow to her. If she could not rule Uther, then it would be annihilated, along with the entire worthless planet. Since arriving at the fortress, she had spent a lot of time in this great hall, fantasizing about the destruction soon to come. This world that had spurred her control, that had cursed her with defective spawn and incompetent minions, that had given her nothing but anger and frustration, would rightfully burn. She didn’t even care if she lived or died, so long as she had a front row seat to watch Zyrga serve as her magnificent Angel of Vengeance.
Helena approached and stood beside her, gazing at Zyrga’s skeleton. He had a body like a gargoyle; bipedal, and vaguely humanoid, but with large taloned feet and matching claws at the end of his long fingers. A spike-lined tail and dragon-like wings made him seem bigger than he was, and the horns atop his head looked ready to gouge his enemies. But the most striking feature was the demonic face. The mouth, filled with sharp fangs, looked like it was fixed into a permanent grin. Instead of a roar, he looked like he’d announce himself with mocking laughter, taking pleasure in suffering and death.
“They say that when Zyrga first arrived, the moon turned black as coal, and the sky looked like an ocean of blood,” said Helena. “Every living thing around him either died or became a subject of the Profane, with hundreds, even thousands of miles of land left cursed and sterilized. The entire Enochian race shared a simultaneous shiver of terror, with the young and the old alike falling deathly ill as his dark power flooded the world.
He was only vanquished because the entire race united and combined their powers. After he was defeated and sealed, they did everything they could to purge the land of his influence, but nothing they did could restore life to where he appeared. The rich, healthy soil became lifeless sand, and the region was called Az Zyr, meaning ‘cursed by Zyrga.’ Over time, that meaning was forgotten, and Az Zyr became Ezeria.”
“Imagine it; a being so grand that it took the might of the entire Enochian race to stop him. A true god descended upon their world, but they chose to keep worshipping the elements and spirits instead.”
“Ragar believes that Zygra is even strong enough to revive the dead. He had hoped that he could bring his daughters back to life.”
“And you? Do you think he could do the same for your girls?”
“Leanne and Duska have both been reduced to ashes. There is nothing to bring back. I have no choice but to settle for vengeance. But I trust Zyrga to make the Wandering Spirit scream in agony like no one else. I will have my satisfaction.”
“Ooh, say that again about him suffering,” Ziradith purred.
Helena chuckled. “Zira, you are a woman after my own heart.”
One of Ragar’s minions approached. “The assembly is going without a single issue. However, we are having problems with the power channel from Duravound.”
“You were supposed to have that finished before we arrived,” Ziradith scolded.
The ghoul scowled at her. “This plan was years in the making. Suddenly changing the site on such short notice is going to cause problems. If you want it done faster, feel free to actually get to work instead of standing around.”
“I AM working, by keeping you little cretins on schedule. Ragar put me in charge, but do not expect me to be as patient and forgiving of your ineptitude as he is. Once he gets here, expect him to want to perform the ritual immediately.”
“Of course, ma’am. I’m happy to serve,” he said sarcastically before walking off.
“Men,” Ziradith scoffed in disgust. “Human, dwarf, or Profane, they’re always more trouble than they’re worth.”
Helena bit her lip and brushed her hand against Ziradith’s. “When you say things like that….”
“Save it. You know I’m not of that persuasion. But who knows? Once I’m turned and the world is ashes, maybe we’ll have a celebratory romp atop Noah’s corpse.”
While Noah was on their minds, they were far from his. Lying amongst the rubble, he gave a pained laugh as he heard Roc’s demand and remembered the feather, taken from the Uther royal vault. He had offered it to Roc before his fight with Saimallah, but Roc turned him down, choosing instead to face victory or death with his own power, rather than rely on anyone or anything else. However, this fight was about more than just his pride, and Roc had to do whatever he could to win. If Umbra had enhanced himself with the power of a dragon, then he’d have to do the same with a phoenix. His hatred for Umbra and the other Profane was matched only by his hatred for himself, for not thinking of the feather sooner.
With what little strength he had, Noah conjured the sealed feather from his ring and tossed it to him. Roc caught the crystal, and with his hand glowing with mana, he crushed it in his grip, releasing the power inside. Flames surged from the feather and consumed him, burning with such heat and intensity that everyone was forced to back away and shield their eyes. Roc howled in pain and struggled to remain standing as he was burned alive. His life and the power of the phoenix were at odds with each other, struggling to coexist in one form. His body was unsure of whether to attack and reject the foreign power, or to accept it and let itself be overwritten with the infusion of the phoenix’s energy.
“Roc, no!” Lastet screamed, thinking her brother would be reduced to ashes.
However, the fire wasn’t eating away at his body, but the opposite. The flames were actually creating new tissue, healing all of his wounds. The problem was that having flesh grown with fire felt no less excruciating than having it destroyed by fire, but Roc was too furious to let something like pain keep him down. He accepted all of it, allowing the flames deeper into his very essence. The fire coursed through every vein and capillary like an explosive backdraft, burning his weak, mortal cells, only for new, stronger cells to be born from those ashes. His skin, muscles, and bones were all improved by several magnitudes, with his entire body being remade into a suitable vessel for the power of the phoenix.
The feathers on his wings, dark brown like those of a true eagle, glowed red with a shimmering appearance, resembling a bed of coals. His red hair became a maw of fire, and a bird skull appeared atop his head like a helmet, made of compressed ash. The flames finally calmed, revealing his metamorphosis. It seemed like the transformation was complete, but Roc then stepped forward, leaning forward with his left side. He released another howl of pain and rage, and a focused jet of surged from the remnants of his lost arm like a jet engine. He had lost his entire shoulder against Saimallah, but new bone, muscle, and flesh began to grow from the base of the flames. Centimeter by centimeter, his arm restored itself despite his cells burning like thermite as they were born. Within moments, he was once again whole.
With his new hand, Roc pointed at Umbra and growled. Then, in the blink of an eye, he rocketed over, launching himself with such speed that he created a shockwave. He tackled Umbra, grabbing him by the throat, and shot into the air. Flames were shooting from his feathers, propelling him like thousands of rocket thrusters. He pushed Umbra across the sky, soaring over the undead legions, with the fiend trying to overpower Roc and free himself.
As Roc flew, his wings shed their feathers, immediately growing new ones, just to be shed, sending them fluttering down upon Ragar’s armies. Upon hitting a solid surface, each feather exploded in a cascade of majestic flames, enveloping the legions. These flames burned everything they touched, even turning stone to ash, and leaving Ragar’s undead troops burning like a field of matches. He and Umbra soared over Valia and Ragar, still fighting without reprieve, and Ragar couldn’t help but curse as all of his undead amalgamations went up in flames like they were made of birch bark.
Noah and everyone else watched Roc battle with Umbra, but their attention was then drawn by a new burst of energy, this one coming from Seraph. Roc wasn’t the only one mourning Foley, nor was he the only one overwhelmed with rage. But it wasn’t just anger that caused this sudden rush of power; it was inspiration. After seeing what Roc had become, how could he not want to push himself further to catch up with him? They had buried the hatchet, but that wasn’t to say their warrior competitiveness was gone.
He didn’t know exactly how Roc had gained this new power, but it was clear it had been an agonizing, life-threatening gamble. If Seraph wasn’t prepared to take the same risk, how could he ever look Roc in the eye? Though he had just lost one friend, that didn’t mean he was going to sit back and lose to another. Tarnas had warned him about what he was about to do, warned him of the toll it would take, but he was more than ready to make some terrible life choices.
“Light’s Emissary,” he cast.
The light erupting from his body then was then pulled back in, where it gathered and solidified like his wings. It took the form of a suit of golden armor, completely encompassing his body. Most of his power had been solidified to create this new form, but a great deal was radiating from him, washing over everyone and burning away Miasmarda’s clouds. The foul ghoul, observing from a safe distance, had to double his output to keep up and maintain the shroud.
Everyone could feel Seraph’s power like the intensity of the summer sun, skyrocketing past what humans were supposed to be able to accomplish. Noah, Valia, and Shannon had felt this divine power before, at Lumestada, when they bore witness to the power of the angel, with Noah even taking a direct hit, and again when Tarnas fought Scyler. How well Seraph would be able to wield and maintain that power compared to Tarnas had yet to be determined, but Noah had faith.
Seraph took off after Roc and Umbra, looking like a shooting star soaring across the sky. He caught up with the two warriors in the blink of an eye and jumped into the fight. Umbra still had the advantage over Roc, possessing beastman powers, dragon powers, and Profane powers, while Roc had only his beastman might and the power of the phoenix, but Seraph helped balance the scales. Umbra had to strengthen his Night Mantle in Seraph’s presence. It was bad enough that Roc was putting out enough heat to ignite the air, but if Umbra’s defenses fell, then Seraph’s divine aura would incinerate him in moments.
He and Roc attacked Umbra simultaneously, hurling punches and kicks so fast that their movements were impossible to follow by onlookers. Umbra was blocking and countering as best as he could, but he had to operate purely on his spiritual senses to keep up. His nose and ears simply couldn’t give him the information fast enough. He was on the defense, with the three of them zipping back and forth across the valley as a trio of gold, red, and black streaks.
The more Umbra blocked their attacks, the more he figured out their patterns, and finally turned the tables, avoiding one of Roc’s kicks and slashing him with his claws. Flames streamed from the cuts instead of blood, then vanished as they healed almost instantly. Both the wound and the healing were agony, but Roc was beyond the point of pain. During that opening, Seraph punched Umbra in the face, knocking him back. He went after him, only to be knocked aside when Umbra spun around and struck him with his tail.
Roc attacked from above, bringing down both his fists upon Umbra’s head and launching him straight down. Umbra crashed like a meteorite, then jumped to the side to dodge a divebomb kick from Roc. He punched Roc in the stomach, sending him flying, only to look up and curse as Seraph rained holy blasts upon him. Their combined explosions burned away at both his dark aura and his mana reserves, but Umbra flapped his wings and took flight. He escaped the barrage, only to receive a head-on kick from Roc. Umbra was sent crashing into a cliff face, but before Roc could attack again, he opened his jaws and released a blast of dragon breath and Profane malice.
The sky became a sea of churning explosions, like a roaring storm of black flames and lightning, only for the unholy tempest to be burned away by the sun Roc formed between his hands. He was creating a massive fireball that illuminated the darkness, then threw it at Umbra. Umbra pulled himself out of the cliff and took flight, dodging the fireball before it hit the cliff, but he could not escape the resulting explosion, setting the mountains and sky itself ablaze.
Wreathed in flames with his body trying to heal, Umbra turned in the air and narrowly blocked a punch from Seraph, then spun around and kicked him aside. Roc swooped down to attack, but Umbra’s tail sent him flying like a baseball. The two fighters didn’t give up, hammering over and over like two blacksmiths striking the same piece of steel. Their relentless attacks eventually broke through Umbra’s guard, and when his defenses fell, they beat him mercilessly. Roc’s flames boiled Umbra’s blood and carbonized his flesh, and Seraph’s light sapped his strength and racked him with pain.
The three continued to battle, with Noah and the others unable to do anything but watch and hope. Even Valia and Ragar, both exhausted and half-dead by their own fighting, paused to observe, realizing they were not the deciding factors in this valley battle anymore. Was this what the last Profane War had been like? These explosions that wrecked the landscape, these shockwaves that shook the sky, this tangible power that fell almost like rain; was this what the participants of the last war experienced? How did these young warriors compare to the heroes of that bygone era? How did Curcio’s masterpiece stack up against the Profane born of limitless venom? Was this new generation just a pale shadow of those that came before, or had they surpassed their predecessors, rivalling even the great Enochians that slew Zyrga himself?
Finally, the three of them separated, each facing their own exhaustion. Umbra had never been pushed so far, and both Roc and Seraph were suffering the consequences of their first transformations. They had all reached their limits and were ready to end this battle. Roc and Seraph exchanged a glance, deciding their next course of action as though communicating telepathically. They opened up some space from Umbra and both began to fly through the air in a circle around their foe, building up speed and power, and producing a brilliant halo of fire and light in the sky above the valley. Their rocketing flight stirred the black storm clouds overhead, with Miasmarda doing everything he could to prevent the shroud from being burned away.
Umbra floated in the center, gathering his strength. He knew what was about to happen, but instead of dodging, he wanted to face it head-on, to prove to his foes and himself that he was the ultimate fighter. Then, with perfect harmonization, Seraph and Roc made sharp right turns and shot themselves at Umbra like a pair of bullets. They attacked from opposite sides in a pincer formation, throwing forth their fists while burning like meteors. Umbra, unleashing all of the dark power within his body, caught their punches and set off a titanic shockwave that shook the valley and nearly knocked everyone off their feet.
The three floated overhead, with Seraph and Roc trying to overpower Umbra, who was desperately trying not to be crushed between them. More than just the strength of their muscles, their powers were grinding like tectonic plates, with the phoenix flames and divine light trying to snuff out the roaring darkness. Umbra, sensing he was at his limit, made a desperate move. He retracted the membrane of his wings, turning the bones into pikes, and with a snarl, lashed out and stabbed both Roc and Seraph through the chest. However, this attack, which would have killed them before, could not best their regeneration abilities. What’s more, Umbra had given them exactly what they wanted; for now, he could not escape them.
Roc and Seraph grabbed his wings and pulled themselves closer to Umbra, each holding him in a bear hug. Before he could react, they roared in exertion and released every last bit of power in their bodies like twin stars going supernova. The fire and the light burned Umbra from both sides, leaving him unable to break free or defend himself. His dragon scales and Profane body, so powerful and resilient, were reduced to ash, with Umbra unable to contain his howl of agony as he was incinerated cell by cell.
Noah and the others were forced to look away, lest they be blinded by the burning torrent of energy, growing in intensity with each second. The power was unleashed in an atomic-level blast, with all of Miasmarda’s clouds being burned from the sky and tidal waves of fire pouring down into the valley. Miasmarda and his mount were annihilated by the blast, while below, Valia and Ragar had to dive for cover to avoid meeting the same fate. Cynatas, badly burned but still alive, held out her hands and conjured the strongest wind barrier she could, protecting Noah’s group and the eagle tribe members from the flaming shockwave.
Finally, the blast faded, and the sunlight shone down upon the ravaged landscape, with any Profane or undead still standing being destroyed. Ragar, badly scorched on one side of his body, screamed in anguish. Under the sunlight, his ability to summon and control the undead was waning, and his wounds were just getting worse, but that wasn’t the source of his pain. In front of him were the remains of his skeletal daughters, both of them cremated by the blast and reduced to just a few shards of bone and burned scraps of cloth. As his flesh continued to char and blacken under the sun, he scooped up their ashes, letting them fall from between their fingers. Nearby, Valia crawled out of a blast crater, barely alive after everything that had just happened, but she and Ragar glared at each other.
“You may have won this round, but mark my words, the Profane will rule this world,” Ragar hissed.
Then, with the last of his strength and what little magical control he still had, he wrapped himself in bones, creating a worm-like golem suit, then burrowed into the ground, escaping both Valia and the sun. As he tunneled away, Valia looked up, seeing Roc and Seraph both in freefall, practically comatose and drained of all strength. But before they could fall to their deaths, two wind barriers, courtesy of Cynatas, caught them both. Valia sighed in relief and collapsed.
“Go ahead and run, Ragar. It’s only a matter of time.”
The battle was over, and all was silent, save for the crackling of scattered fires. Noah, Shannon, Alexis, Sophia, Daniel, Cyrilo, and Cynatas gathered around Foley’s ashes. A good friend had met his demise, and their group would never be the same. Noah crouched down and picked up the gem from Foley’s shield. It was all that remained, and after everything it had just been subjected to, it had transformed into a magical item of indescribable power. Foley’s last act didn’t just save everyone and stop Gradius; he had created something of supreme value in this war, and Noah wasn’t going to let his sacrifice go to waste.
“Of all of the deaths I have seen, studied, and experienced… that was a damn good one.”
Coming from Noah, that was some of the highest praise someone could receive.
“Noah, do you have a jar or something? We should collect the ashes for his family,” said Daniel.
“Hold on,” said Cyrilo, conjuring a large bottle from her ring. It had seeds in the bottom, likely some kind of potion or runecraft ingredient, which she emptied onto the ground to make room. Cynatas then gave a flick of her wrist, and a gust of wind swirled in the center of the group, picking up all of the ashes. Cyrilo held out the bottle, and the wind deposited it inside.
With Foley’s remains collected, they went off in search of Roc and Seraph, who had fallen somewhere in the center of the valley. They first had to cross the new Paleon Channels carved into the landscape by Gradius’s death. At the moment, they were empty, but they would soon fill up with seawater. As they searched, they encountered Valia, who was left in a bad state by her fight with Ragar and everything else that had happened. She hugged Noah and Shannon with tears in her eyes, grateful beyond words that they were still alive.
“Ragar got away. I couldn’t stop him,” she said bitterly.
“It doesn’t matter. We can worry about all that later,” said Noah. “Right now, let’s just be glad with what we have, and try to pick up the pieces of what we lost.”
They continued searching, eventually finding the two warriors, saved from a fatal landing by Cynatas, barely alive and badly hurt. They had both suffered severe burns from the explosion, and their stab wounds weren’t healing. They had expended so much power that they were left comatose, and there was no telling when or even if they would wake up. Sophia went to work healing their wounds, but she had her work cut out for her, and there were plenty more people in need of help. Cynatas also needed her attention, still suffering from the Profane burns she had received from Gradius. Sophia worked herself to the bone, trying to undo the damage they had suffered. The sweat dripping off her forehead projected the effort she was expending, but healing them would take a great deal of time.
Now that the fighting was over, they also had to tend to everyone else who had been injured in the conflict. It wasn’t just Noah’s group that suffered wounds and casualties; many members of the eagle tribe gave their lives protecting their loved ones from the Profane. Potions were distributed where needed, but there weren’t enough to go around. Until her three patients were stabilized, Sophia couldn’t spare the mana to heal anyone else, so plenty of makeshift bandages and splints were utilized for those who would have to wait.
With heavy hearts and grim expectations, they all returned to the village. The entire valley had been scorched, shattered, and leveled by the battle, with not a single tree or animal left behind. Outside of the valley, huge blast craters blanketed the landscape from Gradius’s fury. The mountains had all crumbled, including the one on which the village was built. Fortunately, the upper half of the mountain, severed from the base, did not completely break apart when the two portions were reunited. The ground beneath the village remained mostly intact, so the village itself was not completely destroyed. The trees used to build their homes were remarkably sturdy, but where the trees stood, countless bodies lay, killed by Miasmarda’s poison gas.
Where the sounds of battle filled the morning, wails of anguish filled the afternoon, with the slain being mourned by their loved ones. Men, women, and children had all lost their lives, and Lupin looked around with a heavy heart.
“This is my fault, isn’t it? They knew we would come here because of those damn lilies that Andromeda used to poison me. We led the Profane here, and these people were made to suffer for it. They cured me, they saved my life, and this is their reward,” he muttered.
“It’s not your fault,” said Noah. “Imagine if I had possessed a potion that could have healed you from the effects of the lilies, or if Sophia could have saved you with holy magic, or Cynatas somehow using her wind power to restore your lungs, and this whole detour was avoided. The Profane still would have come here, looking for you, expecting you to be here, and they would have exterminated or wiped out the eagle tribe just for the fun of it. Their fate was sealed the moment those lilies were used against you. None of it was your fault.”
Lupin gave a bitter laugh. “Funny, isn’t it? How we accept blame for things that we had no say in the matter? All for that desperate need for control. It’s easier to argue about what we could have done and should have done, and kick ourselves for not doing it, than to simply accept that we were too helpless to change things. How much of the guilt we feel is simply due to narcissism?”
Noah turned and looked out across the ravaged valley. “That’s something I’ve wondered for a long time. In situations like this, it’s hard not to grasp at any illusions of autonomy and control. But really, we just have to accept our own insignificance and keep pushing forward, making do with what we have.”
Once the dead were collected and identified, huge pyres were built, and the mass funeral was held. By the light of the setting sun, the flames burned radiant and pure, cremating the fallen. According to the elders, cremation was always preferred over burial for members of the eagle tribe. They believed the flames helped sever the earthly restraints that weighed down the spirits of the dead, and just as the smoke rose and was carried off into the breeze, the freed souls were released to become one with the sky, to fly among the clouds without need of wings.
That night, Noah and his friends returned to their campsite beside Roc’s home, sitting around the campfire. Nothing was said, as everyone was too exhausted from fighting and grief. Roc and Seraph were still unconscious, but Cynatas had joined them. Although her burns had not been fully healed, soothing ointment and bandages had been applied, and some morphine pills from Noah were helping with the pain.
“So, what now?” Daniel finally asked.
“We continue with our original plan,” said Noah. “Lupin still needs more time to heal, as does Seraph and Roc. Once they’re fit for travel, we’ll return to Duravound and let them know what happened.”
“What happened? I thought you left a harkonen orb with King Geord so you could remain in contact with him,” Alexis interjected.
“I haven’t been able to since the dwarvish temple. I’m cut off from the orb. It must be in some kind of container that blocks the signal from reaching. My thinking is that either Geord or his retainers put it in some kind of vault for safekeeping, not understanding how it works, or Ragar has minions in Duravound who stole it to keep us separated.”
“Didn’t that assassin you doped with truth serum say there was some kind of plan in the works for the city?” Cyrilo asked.
“Yeah, something was supposed to arrive in another month or so. A weapon, perhaps.”
“All the horses were gassed to death. How are we supposed to get there without them?” Daniel asked.
“Poor you, having to walk on your own two feet,” Shannon muttered.
“We have plenty of time to get back to Duravound before the Profane can go through with whatever they’re planning. For now, let’s just focus on recovering and helping the eagle tribe get back on their feet.”
“And after Duravound, then what? Back to Colbrand?” Sophia asked.
“That’s right.”
“What about Foley? We need to take him back to his family,” said Alexis.
“There will be time for that, but after. Perhaps Roc can make the trip and deliver the ashes. He knew Foley the best, and has yet to meet his family.”
Everyone eyed the empty spot beside the fire where they imagined Foley would sit.
“He was a foul-mouthed smartass, but he was a good friend,” said Alexis.
“Do we have anything to drink in his honor? Anything to toast with?” Daniel asked.
“Once we get back to Duravound, then we’ll do something for him. For now, what’s most important is that we rest our minds and our bodies,” said Noah.
Everyone went to sleep that night, digesting yet another bittersweet victory. The next day, the village was abuzz with activity as the damaged was assessed. However, instead of repairing their ravaged homes, they were taking them apart.
“You’re leaving?” Noah asked as he approached the elders’ yurt, watching it being dismantled by the men and women of the village.
“This valley has been ruined by the fighting. The trees are gone, and so too are the animals. Even with the blessings of the spirits, it will be quite a while before this place can sustain us,” said Hadat.
His words were accurate. Summoning circles—the magic of the spirits that kept the populations of various species in balance—stopped working if the environment around them was too inhospitable. Eventually, new trees would sprout from the ashes of the fallen, and animals would wander in, but it would take years, even decades, for the valley to return to its lush and vibrant form.
“How long have your people lived in this valley?”
“Since before my great, great, grandfather was born.”
“My condolences for the loss of your ancestral home. I hope you don’t regret our arrival.”
“There are many in the tribe who do, the young and the brash, but the rest of us understand what this was. You and Roc warned us about the Profane, about how they were a threat to all life. Still, in our cowardice and laziness, we chose to bet everything on the safety of isolation, hoping we would be ignored, and our valley would be a bastion of peace in a world at war, but such things cannot be. I know now that this was inevitable. Whatever their specific goal was, inevitably, the Profane would find their way here. I just thank the spirits that Roc has such good friends who helped keep us safe.”
Hadat extended his hand, and Noah shook it.
“Any idea where you’ll go?”
“The Ashok Mountains are a vast sea of cliffs and valleys. I’m sure there is plenty of room for us. Finding a place not already occupied by another tribe might take some time, but the spirits did not give us wings so that we could remain in one place forever. We’ll set out the day after tomorrow or so.”
“There’s always Duravound,” Noah said in jest.
Hadat laughed. “Sometimes, beggars CAN be choosers. You really think we’d bunk with the dwarves, packed up tight under their mountain? It’s probably overcrowded with refugees like us already.”
Hadat departed to resume helping dismantle the yurt, leaving Noah deep in thought. The old man’s words stuck out to him. The Profane’s invasion from the north, burning down the forests and villages, all suddenly made sense. The whole reason why there were so many survivors and refugees was because the Profane weren’t trying to wipe the dwarves out, but drive them out, sending them fleeing towards Duravound.
Duska said that the Profane had a plan to resurrect Zyrga, but she couldn’t find the exact details. It was only a guess, but Noah theorized that the method involved sacrificing everyone in the city. The Profane were trying to corral as many sacrifices as they could into Duravound. The way the city was designed made for a perfect holding pen. The Profane didn’t bother attacking the Ashok Mountains because they knew that the beastman tribes wouldn’t go to Duravound looking for shelter like the dwarves would. If Duska’s timetable was accurate, then Zyrga’s remains wouldn’t reach Duravound for quite some time, but Noah still felt a chill, telling him that it would be better to return sooner rather than later.
“Excuse me, Hadat,” said Noah, stepping into the yurt as it was pulled apart.
“Yes?”
“Before your tribe leaves to find a new home, might I request the aid of some of your members?”
As Noah hashed out the group’s travel plans, back at the campsite, Roc began to stir, groaning in pain. He opened his eyes, recognizing his tent. He was utterly exhausted and sorer than he had ever been in his life. It reminded him of when he was locked in Colbrand’s dungeon after getting beaten by Aithorn, but even that was a sweet bliss compared to this. His pained grunting woke up Cynatas at his side.
“Hey, you’re finally back,” she said with eyes filled with relief.
“Where… where am I?” he asked weakly.
“Back at the village. The battle is over. It’s the day after. How do you feel?”
“Like a piece of metal that spent a whole week getting scorched in a forge and beaten with hammers. Was I burned at the stake?”
“Hold on, I’ll get Sophia.”
Cynatas left the tent, with Roc continuing to lie there and groan in misery until she returned.
“Hey, how are you doing?” Sophia asked as she began applying her healing magic, trying to alleviate his pain.
“Badly. I’ve never been in so much pain in my life.”
“Noah told us about the phoenix feather. Your body is probably still adjusting to its power within you. I suggest you not do anything strenuous or magical until you feel back to normal. You and Seraph managed to defeat that winged fiend and win the battle for us, though you were on the edge of death when we found you.”
“Is Seraph still alive?”
“He’s in the next tent, still unconscious, though I imagine he’ll wake up in much the same state as you.”
Sophia did what she could to heal the lingering damage and alleviate Roc’s pain, using both her magic and a healing potion, with some morphine pills from Noah thrown in. Roc was aching to feel the sunlight and see the valley, so Sophia and Cynatas helped him to his feet, though his steps were like a decrepit old man missing his walker. They got outside, and Roc breathed deep of the fresh air, now beginning to feel a bit better. Then he opened his eyes and looked out over the valley, and his heart sank.
“By the spirits,” he gasped, seeing the width and breadth of the destruction, and realizing how much of it he was responsible for.
“Don’t blame yourself. Colbrand was left in the same state after the Profane attacked. This is just the cost of war,” said Sophia.
“My family, are they safe?”
“Your brothers and sister made it without harm, don’t worry,” said Cynatas. “There were many casualties in the tribe, but the tribe itself will live on.”
Her words were a massive weight off his shoulders, and Roc carefully pulled himself away from Sophia and Cynatas, wanting to stand on his own. He was shaky, but able to do it. Daniel, walking by, stopped in awe.
“Dude, Roc! You’re looking bulked up!”
Roc studied himself, seeing what Daniel meant. He had the physique of a martial artist before, but now, his body had grown far more powerful. His muscles had increased in mass, and his skeleton had changed as well, making him a few inches taller. His body had evolved to become a suitable vessel for the power of the phoenix. He then paused, looking at his left hand, finally realizing that it had been restored.
He clutched it, shedding tears of joy to have it back. He had come to define himself by that injury, wondering how others perceived him, wondering if he’d ever reach his full potential. During the fighting tournament, he had tried to break free of his doubts, proving to himself and the audience that he would not let the loss of his arm hold him back or limit his strength, but the fact remained that the damage it had inflicted on his pride was as significant as the wound itself. Finally, he was whole again.
Cynatas embraced him from behind. “You really have gotten bigger, and you’re so much warmer to the touch. I feel like a cat sunning itself on a warm rock,” she said softly.
Roc turned around and embraced her, happy beyond words that she was still with him. When Umbra pulled him away during their fight with Miasmarda, he had felt sick with worry, hoping she’d be all right without him. For her to have survived was a true blessing, and to finally hold her with both arms was something he thought was a dream that would never come true. His family was safe, his tribe had endured, his lover was by his side, and his arm was restored. At the moment, the destruction of the valley lost all weight.
Seraph woke up several hours later, and as Sophia predicted, he was in much the same condition as Roc, cursed with full-body pain and overbearing fatigue. Fully unleashing his power as Light’s Emissary had done a great deal of damage to his body, and it would take some time before he’d be able to summon even a spark of mana. Roc and Seraph shared gripes like a pair of old men, with everyone letting them indulge in a bit of self-pity. Seeing the two weary fighters, Valia couldn’t help but chuckle. After running all the way from Welindar to Colbrand, she knew exactly what that level of pain and exhaustion felt like.
That night, they sat around the campfire and had dinner. Now that Roc and Seraph were awake, they felt like they could truly mourn for Foley and share stories. Noah was fairly quiet, keeping his revelation about Zyrga to himself and not wanting to ruin the mood. Once everyone had finished eating, Cynatas turned to Roc.
“By the way, I found something in the valley that you might find interesting. Come on.”
She pulled Roc to his feet and pulled him off into the darkness. The evening was bright, and they could both see quite well.
“I’m not sure I’m in any condition to fly,” said Roc.
“Just leave it to me,” Cynatas replied. She cast her magic upon him, wrapping Roc in an aura of enchanted air that rendered him light as a feather. “Now come on.”
She flew down into the valley with Roc following her. With his weight reduced, so too was the strain on his wings taken care of. That said, flying suddenly became a bit tricky, as he now felt like a dandelion seed floating on the breeze. They dropped down into the valley, landing among the fallen trees.
“Right over here,” she said.
“What did you find?”
“I didn’t really find anything. I actually lost something.” She pushed her white dress off her shoulders and let it fall to her ankles. “See? I lost my dress,” she said coyly, making Roc smile. “I hope you have enough strength for this.”
“Oh, I will FIND the strength. Don’t you worry.”
Cynatas snapped her fingers, and a dome of enchanted air swirled around them. It was a trick that Noah taught her, using a wind barrier to block sound. She never could have fooled around with Roc in his family’s yurt without it. Casting off her undergarments, she floated over to Roc and the two of them shared a passionate kiss. His wings twitched in excitement, and he retracted them so they wouldn’t get out of the way. After letting their lips and tongues get reacquainted, Cynatas pulled back.
“I know you’re still tired, so don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. You just lie back and relax.” She hit him with a pulse of air, and Roc stepped back, bumping against a fallen tree. He did as she instructed and lay back with a grin, watching Cynatas float over to him like an erotic fairy. She helped him remove his pants, and her eyes widened as his member sprang forth. “My, my, I see everything about you has grown bigger. I can barely wrap my fingers around it.”
She stroked him while biting her lip, loving the look on his face. She then lowered her head, her eyes never leaving his as she dragged her tongue up the shaft. After Roc woke up in their tent, he washed off all the filth that clung to him from the battle, glad that there was no excess sweat or dirt that would offend Cynatas’s sense of taste as she took his cock in her mouth. Still, his natural musk was more than enough to send shivers up her spine in building excitement.
“You taste a bit different now, Roc.”
“What do you mean?”
“You remind me of the spicy chicken from that inn. That phoenix power really does make you hot, hot, hot,” she giggled.
She continued sucking him off, trying to get used to his new size in her mouth. Try as she might to get him down her throat, he completely plugged up her airway. Still, she worked diligently, with Roc breathing heavily in bliss. Though they hadn’t been together very long, Cynatas had quickly figured out how to best pleasure Roc, using her tongue to playfully tease every nerve ending, while she pampered the head of his cock with the softness of her cheeks. As always, his reaction was her reward, making her want to toy with him until the end of time, but eventually, it wasn’t enough. After applying one last layer of spit for added lubrication, she sat up and moved onto his lap.
“Come here, love,” she whispered.
She lowered herself onto his cock, immediately realizing that this might be too much for her. She thought she had gotten used to his size, but after taking on the power of the phoenix, her endurance was being pushed to its limits. Roc, sensing her discomfort, tried to stop her, but Cynatas, refusing to quit, bore with the pain and took his cock all the way to the base. She winced in pain, feeling like she had lost her virginity all over again.
“Cy, are you all right?” Roc asked.
“I’m fine. Just… give me a moment.” Once she had caught her breath, she began to gently ride him. “See? And now we can hold both hands.” She interlaced her fingers with his, giving her the balance she needed to start bouncing on his cock.
She moaned as she rose and fell, leaving Roc amazed that her tiny body could take in his mass. He could see a bulge in her stomach appear every time she dropped down as his cock tried to make room. He felt as if he went any deeper in her, he’d end up poking the bottom of her heart. She was so tight, but pulling out was almost harder than going in, as if her pussy didn’t want to let him go. Tight, but so soft and wet, gripping him like a powerful hug.
Regardless of the mechanics and size difference, Cynatas was getting used to the overwhelming fullness, bouncing with more vigor. Her voice kept rising, and her visage of control and coy superiority fell away as her mind gave in to pleasure. The look on her face was mesmerizing for Roc. She was so beautiful, yet looked so fragile, as if tears were about to start running down her cheeks. She was so small compared to him, like a sweet songbird he could cradle in the palm of his hand. Part of him wanted to hold her close, to protect this diminutive goddess from anything that might harm her, but the rest of him wanted to prey upon her.
His strength, which was close to zero not long ago, was suddenly returning, and Roc could no longer just lie there while Cynatas did everything. Instead of holding her hands, he grabbed her waist to lift her up and began bucking his hips. Cynatas’s voice reached a new pitch and squeaked in rapid pulses as Roc took control, fucking her harder than ever before. It was a good thing her wind barrier was holding, or else her lewd cries would echo throughout the valley. His cock was barreling into her so fast and forcefully that she felt like Roc was going to send her flying.
After a few minutes, they shared a simultaneous orgasm, with Cynatas moaning like an opera singer in happiness and Roc grunting as he pumped her full of seed. It felt so hot inside her, almost like she was going to be burned. She expected Roc to be tired, but he sat up and passionately kissed her, and instead of going soft, he remained firm inside her. With his arms around her, he sat up and stepped off the tree.
Now standing, he continued fucking her, even faster than before. It wasn’t just his feelings or his new strength that drove him. Now that he had both his arms, he could hold her properly, and her light weight and compact frame made her easy to move as he saw fit. Though he loved her with all his heart, he now fucked her like a toy he was dead set on breaking, with Cynatas moaning as she tried to endure his vigor. Enduring was all she could do, held in this embrace like this.
The look on his face was one she didn’t recognize. He was normally so gentle with her, putting aside the title of warrior to be her lover instead, but he could see that savage lust in his eyes, the inner barbarian that drove man to conquer and claim. She liked that look. If she told him to stop, she was certain he would, but she wanted to see how much farther he’d go, and wanted to know for herself if she could handle it. Roc continued fucking her like a toy in his grip, delivering Cynatas to ultimate euphoria two more times before stopping and once more emptying himself inside her. It felt like the volume was even greater than before, filling her up with warmth.
Still not done, Roc, without pulling out, laid her out on the tree trunk, nearly pushing her ankles past her ears. His thrusts were hard and rapid, punishing Cynatas’s pussy like he was trying to hollow her out. The two could not break eye contact, both biting their lips as Cynatas dared Roc to go harder and Roc dared her to take it. This was not the gentle, loving missionary they usually performed. This was raw carnality, vulgar and depraved, with Cynatas wanting to be crushed beneath Roc. She couldn’t even moan, feeling like her lungs were being compressed and forcing her to rapidly squeak in bliss that bordered on the masochistic.
After ejaculating for the third time, Roc finally pulled out, sending a waterfall of semen pouring out of Cynatas and leaving her gasping for air. Was he done at last? Her spirit was willing, but her small body was nearing the limit of the abuse it could take. But then Roc flipped her over onto her stomach, grabbed her by the hips, and took her from behind like a savage beast. Cynatas cried out as he hammered her, with his speed and force seemingly doubling. Was this simply because of the change in positions, or had he just been holding back until now? Looking at her, seeing the muscles in Cynatas’s back tremble and stretch, seeing the way her raven hair swayed with each thrust, hearing her whimpers and moans, and smelling her arousal, there was no way he could resist unleashing all of his lust on her. He wanted to hear her admit it was too much, that she couldn’t bear his strength, but she held on.
Bent over the tree, she felt like a piece of meat wrapped around Roc’s manhood. Her feet weren’t even touching the ground. Roc was holding her waist and letting her legs dangle as he had his way with her. All she could do was cling to the tree and wait for him to run out of strength. There was no telling how long they went at it, but for Cynatas, it felt unending. Again and again, he made her climax, and again and again, she felt him pump him full of semen, but not for a moment did he stop. Considering the healing powers Roc had received, she couldn’t help but wonder if his reserves were being replenished the same way blood would be.
Finally, after what could have been hours, they shared a simultaneous orgasm. Roc leaned against Cynatas, the two of them gasping for breath. He hadn’t yet pulled out of her, but she could feel him going soft at least. A mixture of seed and nectar ran down her legs, dripping off her curled toes onto the ground. They rested there for a few moments until finally, Roc spoke.
“How’s that for spicy chicken?”
Cynatas gave an unladylike snort and went on to laugh harder than ever in her life.
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