The air in the king’s chambers was thick with perfume and sweat. Incense filled the room with smoke and other earthy scents, mixing with the sweet smell of wine and desserts, that swirled into Liandros’s nostrils. He opened his eyes and looked up.
He was surrounded by a mass of naked bodies, men and women, and everything in between, of various ages and variety, were clumped together, sifting through each other in a drunken, sensuous trance. Liandros bit his lip, but slid across the silk mattress toward someone’s smooth backside. A head popped up from between their thighs, and grinned up at the king.
“Hello, Majesty,” she chuckled. She was a beautiful girl, just barely a woman, with soft honey blonde hair and big doey, grey eyes. “Enjoying the view?”
Liandros grinned and played with a stray lock of her hair. “What was your name again, precious?”
“Father calls me ‘Eighty-four,” she said dryly. “But you may call me Duli, your Majesty.”
“Duli, you’re Sirosi; I can see it in your skin. The sun has kissed it just perfectly, and your work has done nothing to age you. You are beautiful, darling. Your genes reek of nobility.”
Duli nodded. “My birth name is Dulira, and my father was the 4th Baron of Colerst-“
“Colerstar. Which would make your eldest brother the 5th. My father’s great-aunt married Indric, 2nd Baron of Colerstar. I believe we’re cousins, my dear,” Liandros droned. “How did you find yourself in this profession?”
Duli shrugged. “Well, our house was never the richest, and father made several poor investments and squandered a large portion of what little we had left. When my father died, my brother took control of our house. I told him that I would work for our house, that the new Baron would have nothing to worry about.”
“And then?”
“He sold me. Outright, for a small sack of gold,” she answered, her face still. Liandros expected a quiver in her jaw, or her eyes to water at the corners, but Duli held her head up and looked directly into his eyes.
He stared back with calculating eyes, then waved a hand out. “Fascinating story, my dear. Our own families are often the first to betray us.”
He slid his body over Duli’s head, and clasped his palms on the backside in front of him, and pulled himself forward. The owner looked back at Liandros with a toothy grin and hazy, dark colored eyes. The king’s blonde locks dropped onto his cropped black hair.
“My king,” he giggled.
Liandros modded. “Yes, I am very much your king...Belaxar?”
“You may call me Bel, my king.”
Duli pulled her way up through Liandros’s thighs and made her way onto his back. “Bel, your majesty,” she said, “is the son of an Iisyrian singer. He has a beautiful voice himself.”
Bel smirked and nudged Duli with his foot. “Mind your business, girl.”
Liandros chuckled. “Don’t be modest,” he said his voice suddenly deep and serious, . “Let me hear.”
Bel cleared his throat and sucked in a deep breathe, then let out a long, beautiful note that filled the air like sweet wine in Liandros’s ears. His voice hopped and danced across notes as he serenaded the King, who sat back into Duli’s arms, watching Bel intently with his deep blue eyes.
Liandros eyed Bel, then turned and looked up at Duli. She was funny enough, with charm, and her noble blood granted her great beauty. There was something in the upturn of her mouth, the childishness of her smile and youth. Bel’s eyes, on the other hand, told Liandros that they had seen much. They were beautiful and tired, but had a happy glint, and there was mystery behind them, some sad past left behind. And this beautiful voice that he was eager to hear.
He stood and shrugged Duli from his back. Then he reached down and pulled her and Bel from the pile of bodies, and walked them to a large cushioned sofa. He laid them down together and led their lips together with a finger on each of their chins.
“Yes,” Liandros said with a small smirk. “Kiss for your king.” He strolled across the room, his eyes rarely leaving Duli and Bel’s embrace. He returned in a thin blue silk robe that he left open, and tossed a purple silk robe at Bel, and a powder blue, lace slip at Duli.
“You two belong to me now,” Liandros proclaimed. He clapped his hands twice, and a squat man with grey hair dressed in a butler's robes wattled in.
“Your Majesty?”
Liandros stared down at Duli and Bel. “Contact Duli and Bel’s handlers. Tell them that they belong to the king now, and pay them each...oh, four hundred gold bricks.”
“Four hundred!” Duli shouted. “My last master sold me for ten copper and a sack of flour.”
Bel giggled and kissed Duli’s neck.
“You are worth much more,” Liandros snapped, a fierce look in his eye. “Much more. If I offered your bumbling masters and their peers a basin of my piss in exchange for their eldest grandchild, they would take it the deal and consider it a gift from the King. Four hundred gold bricks is nothing to me and everything to them, my dear.”
Liandros waited till her servant scampered off and waved a hand toward the door. A tuft of blue smoke, followed by the faint trail of butterflies, pushed the door closed. The smoke drifted around the room and placed three glasses and a bottle of wine on the little butterflies wings, and floated toward them. Liandros twirled his fingers around like a coundictor, guiding the glasses into each of their hands and filling them to the brim with dark, burgundy wine.
“How do you do that?” Duli asked.
Liandros shrugged. “Naturally. Do you remember my mother? Queen Irona? That woman was one powerful witch,” he said, a blank look on his face. “Excuse me, sorceress. I inherited all of her affinity for magic and more. Boosted by the strength of the Arandus clan. That golden blood that runs through....”
Liandros paused and stared into the air. After a beat, Bel leaned forward and asked, “Don’t you love it?”
Liandros stared back down at Bel and caressed his hair. “More than anything…” He bent down and pressed his lips into Bel’s and looked back up.
“I feel such tremendous power coursing through my finger tip at every moment,” Liandros continued. “Begging to escape. Do you know that it takes all of my focus to hold it in? This infinite rage that fuels my magic. It’s hard to stay this composed. My mother’s curse…”
Duli stared up at Liandros, her eyes wide, and nodded. She slid her hand up the king’s hard stomach and chest through his robes, then back down. She leaned forward and kissed just above his belly button.
“Now, now,” Liandros said, his voice pleasant and soft. “Slow down. We have all the time in the world, my dear.”
Just then, a faint sound of fluttering took Liandros’s attention, and he spun around. A purple light shone from across the chambers, and the air vibrates around it.
“Out!” Liandros yelled, his voice suddenly shrill and frantic as he scrambled across the rugs and pillows. “I SAID, GET OUT, YOU WHORES!”
The room shook and blue smoke rose up from the floor and whipped around the room like tendrils.
The prostitutes scrambled, toppled off of the bed and out of the doors of the bed chambers. Duli and Bel pulled their robes closed, and grabbed each other’s hands as they followed the crowd. A wall of blue smoke rose in front of them and solidified, separating them from the scrambling prostitutes. The wall curled around them, and pushed them backward.
“You! Duli, Bel! STAY!”
Duli and Bel stared back at Liandros, wide eyed. Hesitantly, Bel led Duli back to the sofa and pulled her closed, and they watched the blue tendrils of magic fling a furniture toward the doors of the chamber, while the king stomped toward his large, stained oak dresser.
Liandros stared down at a small brooch, in the shape of a moth, with pearl eyes and diamond covered wings. The brooch let off a milky purple light and began to tremble and glow and Liandros yelped in excitement and tapped his feet like a child. The moth rose and began fluttering its wings slowly, until it lilted around gracefully. The blue jewels that made its eyes shone bright and the diamonds on his wings caught every light.
“Hello, Liandros,” the moth brooch chirped with a tiny, funneled voice in the god-tongue. “I see you have been waiting for me.”
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*Author’s note*
~i barely grammar checked this one, i just wanted to get it out so bare with me 🥴
“My head is killing me,” Garu croaked from the corner. He sat up slowly, and rubbed his forehead. “How are you two not miserable?”
“You’re overthinking, half-elf,” Vojamarsi’s smooth voice floated across the wagon. Luwyn didn’t notice him at first, but there he was, perched upon the seat of the wagon. His back was to them, but his head was turned halfway around, smirking. “Relax. You’re extremely uptight.”
Garu huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll relax when we’re on the ground.”
Luwyn blinked. “What do you mean?”
Garu didn’t look at Luwyn, he just pointed down. Luwyn peaked over the edge of the wagon, and saw anything but blue sky underneath them. He panicked gain. He turned back, clenching the sides.
“Why are we so high up?” Luwyn asked, panic shaking his voice.
Vojamarsi shrugged. “The only way to travel this fast is this high up. This wagon moves faster than any vessel in the world. Also...you do know that the Oru’kai is an ancient forest with many, many precautions to not be found?” Vojamarsi asked, an eyebrow raised. “And that it’s guardian, Jorr, can sense when trespassers are even looking for Oru’kai, much less on their way? Do you want to get to Oru’kai in fewer than two decades? Because that was your trajectory. Not to say you’ll survive your visit.”
Garu sunk into the wagon, a sour scowl on his face.
“Wait,” Luwyn said. “Jorr knows were coming?”
Vojamarsi chuckled and nodded. “Well, you know what they say...”
Luwyn shook his head and waited for a response. Vojamarsi leaned back and said nothing. Luwyn looked to Fila and she shrugged.
“Lighten up, Garu,” Fila chimed. “We’re on our way, making incredible time, with a lovely host. And all we have to pay him is a story.”
“Just because you’re flirting with the god of voyages doesn’t mean ours will be any smoother.”
Fila stuck her tongue out at Garu.
Vojamarsi chuckled and looked back at the trio. “You lot are funny,” he said. “Speaking of stories…”
Fila hopped up and clapped. “Yes! Everyone pay attention. This is the story of how Mokur, God of the Sea, met his queen, Imak.” She cleared her throat.
“Long ago, when the waves were young, Mokur Azsar, the Great Seaking, ruled over all the waters of the world. Son of the sea and sky, Az and Ky, Mokur was a spectacle. His blue-black tresses flowed down his back, his skin blue-green like seafoam. He was charged with the protection of the creatures of the deep, sailors and islands. But he was a lonely god, sitting on his throne alone, deep in his beautiful coral palace.”
“Wonderful! My grandfather in all of his glory,” Vojamarsi called out in dry tone.
“Anyway,” Fila continued after a quick glare at Vojamarsi. “One morning, Mokur set out on a routine patrol his kingdom. He woke up early that day, urged by something to search his waters. He spent the entire day patrolling, from to the shallows and beaches to the deepest pits of the ocean.
Mokur ventured to an uninhabited corner of the ocean, when a faint whine echoed through the water. It was pained, and Mokur’s heart began to ache when he heard it. He could smell fear and blood. Mokur followed the trails until he found a dolphin floating in the dark, murky waters. Mokur swam to the creature, and saw the wound in its side and blood streaming out.
A league away, a pair of hungry sea dragons, eels really, eyed the wounded beast. They wanted that kill, and wouldn’t let the Sea King get in their way. They thrashed their teeth at Mokur, a challenge to the god of the waves.
Mokur raised his mighty brow at the beasts and grinned. Soft spoken as always, Mokur swam forward without saying a word, and stared down the sea dragons. Her raised his mighty hands and brought them together. The sound of the clap was faint in the deep, only a muffled thump, but it sent a long, thin, horizontal current of water surfing silently toward the sea drakes.
The dragons snickered and sneered at Mokur. “With that, Azsar?” they mocked. “You will be us with a mere ripple?”
Mokur said nothing. He only grinned and chuckled quietly as he turned away, and swam back to the dolphin’s side.
The current sailed through the water, and the dragons swam to meet it. They rushed closer and closer together, until the current was inches from them. They puffed out their scaley chests to laugh again, when the current sailed through them, and left a red line on their chests.
The dragons did not laugh. They were silent for a moment. Then their bodies split into two pieces each. Their blood spread through the water.
Mokur grinned again, and turned his attention to the dolphin. He laid his hand upon the beast. ‘Be still now, child. I will heal you.’ And he did just that. Mokur pressed his hand onto the dolphin’s wound. It winced back. Mokur then gave the creature a portion of his power, the very thing that made him a god. The dolphin squirmed in his arms, then went still. The wound closed underneath Mokur’s palm.”
Fila leaned in, her eyes wide. “Then something amazing happened; the dolphin began to glow with a bright light that filled the depths. The light flickered out and Mokur uncovered his eyes to see the beautiful figure of a woman, complete with the marvous, colorful tail and fin. Her skin and eyes were pale blue, and her indigo hair rippled around her body.
‘Hello, Azsar,’ she whispered. Mokur floated in the water, his mouth agape. He was captivated by her beauty.
She swam toward Mokur, and held her delicate hands out for his. ‘You saved my life. Not only that,’ she said, grasped his large hands. ‘but, you have also given me a piece of your life. Life everlasting...will I need a new name, my king?’
Mokur shook his head. ‘Whatever you wish to be called, I would sing it from the deepest pits of the ocean, so that the monsters of the Void could hear me,’ he whispered.
‘I had a name...in my former life. Imak…’ she said.
Mokur nodded and spun her around. ‘And Imak you shall be!” the great god of the sea bellowed.
Mokur hoisted Imak in his arms, and took her back to his coral palace, and married Imak in front of every creature of the sea. Quiet Mokur has never been jollyer since meeting his bride.
Fila turned and grinned at Vojamarsi. The god of travelers nodded back from the front of the wagon and waved lazily.
“Beautiful,” he said. “Truly. My maternal grandparents’ story is a lovely, lovely tale. Did you know how my paternal grandparents story? The living black pit above us birthed the sky and the earth, and they popped out my father, Sofos. Romantic!” Vojamarsi chuckled and slapped his knee.
Fila shot a confused look at Luwyn. Luwyn only shrugged and grinned.
Garu clapped slowly. “Terrific story, Fila. Quite long. I did enjoy Vojamarsi’s quick tale, however, it was so wonderfully brief.”
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The gods, known as the Isanar, are divided into four groups or generations. The three major groups are the Ise, the Isani, and the Isanuse; the fourth, lesser, group is the Isanushar.
Īse, meaning “first” (the Shapers, The First Ones, The Elements): The first five bings and shapers of the world. The are the personifications of the different primal aspects or realms that make up the world. The Isani, Isanuse, Isanushar are all descendent from the Īse.
Ky, the Sky
Īma, the Earth
Az, the Sea
Īmnar, the Underworld
Mon’oni, the Great Void (space)
Isani, meaning “divine” or “holy” (Children of the Shapers, The Old Gods, The Divines): The Isani are the direct spawn of the Īse, parents to most of the Isanuse and progenitors of the Isanushar and man. They rule over the world the shapers created, the elders usually holding dominion over a realm.
Solandus, Isanisaris or First King of The Gods, Heir of the Shapers, “Ruler of All Below Him, God and Man”, First Fallen, God of The Sun, Kings, Warriors, Justice and Fire.
Anwe, Queen of The Gods, Goddess of the Moon, Peace, Family, Motherhood and Compassion.
Oni, The Usurper, Isanisarnath or Last King of The Gods, God of the Void and Envy.
Sofos, God of Widsom, Scholars and the Arts.
Mokur, God of The Sea and Water, Azsar or Sea King.
Amala- Goddess and Guardian of Beasts.
Urmis- God of Harvest and Agriculture
Dosubran- Goddess of Death and Guider of Souls.
Okadis- God of The Underworld, Death, Blacksmiths and Stone.
Isanuse, meaning “children of the divines” (The New Gods, Children of The Divines): The Isanuse are the children of Isani, and other Isanuse with Isani. They make up the bulk of the pantheon and are either the parents or ancestors of the Isanushar.
Arandus, (Solandus + Anwe) God of War, Fortune and Thieves, Conquerer of Siros, Heir of Solandus and Shapers.
Torsu, (Solandus + Anwe) God of Love, Beauty and Compassion
Iaasa, (Solandus + Anwe) God of Mischeif and Magic
Luwyn, (Solandus + Anwe) God of the Wind and Luck
Jorr, (Oni + Anwe) the Hunter-Goddess and Guardian of Oru’kai
Bulugoba, (Oni + Anwe) Goddess of Chaos
Nyror, (Oni + Anwe) God of Sorrow & War
Rosiag, (Okadis + Dosubran) Goddess of Tortured Souls
Esna, (Okadis + Dosubran) Goddess of Just Souls
Supan, (Oni + Dosubran) God of Dreams
Rossu, (Sofos + Rosiag) God of Peace, The Red God
Vojamarsi, (Sofos + Wyna) God of Travelers and Freedom
Urlya, (Urmis + Amala) Goddess of Nature, Flowers, Insects and Spring
Usimar, (Urmis + Amala) God of Nature, Fruit and Wine, and Autumn
Urn, (Urmis + Amala) God of Nature, Trees, Birds and Summer
Ukirus, (Urmis + Amala) God of Nature, Winter, The Frost God
Imak, (consort of Mokur) Queen of the Sea (mermaid) (but she was actually an injured dolphin that Mokur saved, don’t worry you’ll def get that scene)
Alon, (Mokur + Imak) God of Sea Storms and Sailors.
Alek, (Mokur + Imak) God of the Deep and It’s Monsters (a kracken)
Wyna, (Mokur + Imak) Goddess of the Shallows, Rivers and Lakes.
Olnran, (Oni + Amala) King of Beasts, the “All-Alpha” (giant black lion)
Wochi, (Oni + Esna) Goddess of Illusions and Memories
Leli, (Oni + Esna) A giant golem
Isanushar, meaning “divine future” (Half-Gods, Demigods, Magic Beings): The Isanushar consist not of gods, but beings descendant of the gods with power greater than that of man. Magic users like the elves, those with god/human parentage, and extremely powerful sorcerers who have been diefied. Technically Luwyn and his family can be considered Isanushar.
Arandus gripped his axe, Nazul. It’s golden eye peeked up at him through cracks in the bark near the blade. A slab of gold from the sun, bathed in the light of his mother, the moon. Arandus forged it just as his father had forged him so long ago. In his rage, Arandus named the axe Nazul, or “Wrath”. That was the beginning of this war. He didn’t feel so wrathful right now, just tired.
Arandus looked to his cousin. Rossu stood next to him, his chest rose and fell steadily. His crimson red hair and skin glistened with divine sweat, his armor peeled away, and his arms and shoulder bare. He held his giant saber in his hands. The blade was huge, as wide as the god’s muscled leg, and longer than he was tall. The metal gleamed scarlet, forged from the innards of a volcano, and bathed in the magma. He named it Efir o’Rossu, “Rossu’s Fire.”
Arandus remembered a time when they were young gods, hair barely on their chins, batting together in the name of justice. There was the rare occasion when peace god Rossu, would clean up the squabbles his war god cousin would start. Now they stood together on the battlefield that might be their last.
Arandus sighed. He missed his home in the heavens, Orthu, and his brothers. His family. Each night, he looked up into the sky and stared at his mother until morning.
“Rossu.”
The Red God grunted a response.
“How many times have we done this?”
Rossu blinked, a clear sign that he was thinking, quite deeply. “Somewhere around five billion, seventeen thousand, three hundred and fifty five. Plus that skirmish with my mother.” He shivered.
Arandus bellowed laughter, the hearty sound echoed across the field. “Leave it to the son of the Sofos the Wise to remember all of our battles, to fear of Rosiag, Torturer of Souls.” He paused.
The horde of vile monsters of the Void waited across the battlefield. They slashed their claws and flashed vicious fangs at Arandus and Rossu, eyes burning with black fire. Their hideous shadowy bodies writhed and hummed with anger. They stood around Oni, several times even the old god’s size, who towered over his nephews. He held a hand in the air, holding his army in place.
Oni’s black mane flowed in the wind, his ruddy grey skin glistening with his power stolen from the sun. His armor was black and gold, emblazoned with runes exclaiming his grace and strength. Oni twirled his spear in his other hand, the golden blade long and wicked. Arandus huffed and glared into his uncle’s onyx eyes.
Arandus chuckled. “We may die here today, Cousin,” he said. Rossu nodded. The God of Peace was never wasteful with his words.
“Shall we make it worth it?”
Rossu nodded again. He swung Efir around his head and slammed it into the ground. The earth separated at his feat, magma bubbling to the surface. The magma rose and morphed, and dryed into the shape of red molten rock warriors, each equipped with swords and axes, maces and spears. They let out guttural sounds that boomed across the field, then charged, hooping and flaying their weapons.
Oni raised his spear, gesturing for his monsters to charge in return, a devilish wrapped grin across his face.
Arandus took a deep breath, then he and Rossu lunged, weapons raised high. They let out a battle cry and crashed through the army of monsters, moving for Oni.
“You took my father from me,” Arandus yelled, sliding underneath a large wolf shaped creature, slashing the length of its belly with his axe. “You took my mother, my home.”
Arandus hopped up and spun, slicing off the head of a tall shadowy figure behind him. He grabbed the limp body and slammed it into another monster. He hacked at the ground, and Nazul’s blade gouged into the soil. He propelled himself through the frey, his eyes locked into Oni.
“For that, Oni, you will feel my wrath!”
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this is the roughest sketch ever, but this is how I picture Nazul, the mythical axe forged and wielded by Luwyn’s ancestor and the God of War, Arandus.
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Arandus Solandusiir, God of War, Fortune and Thieves, 1st King of Siros
“I want to show you what happened the day Arandus snuck into Oru’kai and stole a branch to complete the great axe he forged, nazul,” Jorr said. “I will show you here.”
She waved her hand, and the air in front of them started to turn in on itself. The leaves dulled in color and the sky glowed any eerie grey.
In front of them, instantly, was Jorr. She was mounted atop a huge green elk covered in moss and mushrooms. Luwyn faintly recognized it from her camp. Jorr looked young and less worn. The white of her skin shone like moonlight and her emerald eyes glinted with anger. She had a huge, knocked arrow aimed at Arandus.
This was no statue, no painting or drawing. This was what Luwyn’s ancestor looked like and he took all of him in. Luwyn first noticed how beautiful he was. His appearance didn’t differ much from the statue in his temple or in Siros; his golden skin shimmered in the faint light. His curls bounced like gold chain links whenever he spoke. His eyes were like pools of amber and his jaw was strong and square. Though he knelt before Jorr, Luwyn could tell that Arandus was much larger than her, and maybe two heads taller. His muscles bulged in thick straps under a gold and bronze leather tunic. He was clad in heavy gold boots and gold tights; a casual outfit, not suited for battle. A dozen arrows with red tips stuck out from all over his body. His golden blood trickled down and stained the grass.
“Having the same enemy doesn’t make us friends, allies or comrades,” the past Jorr said, annoyed. Her huge green eyes were dim and peered down at Arandus with an incredible amount of disinterest. Her mount shifted beneath her.
Arandus shuffled his foot. “Jorr—sister—your brothers and I need your help. We must find a home. Should I remind you whose father it was that killed our father, took our home at Orthu and took our own mother as his prize?”
Jorr’s eyes flashed with anger. “We’re only have siblings.”
Arandus continued, “Oni. The Void, The Ursuper, Isanisarnath, masquerading as the Sun. Your father. You know that he raped her, our mother. I’m not sure if that is how you came about, little sister, but Bulugoba, definitely—”
“Enough!” Jorr interrupted. With a wave of her hand, her elk thrusted her sharp, foliage ridden antlers at Arandus’s throat. “You do not speak of my mother that way. You do not speak of Oni here. Not in this forest, not in any.”
“Anwe was my mother first, and will always be,” Arandus barked, though he stayed eerily calm. “Don’t you know that I am chiseled from gold, sister? You can never really cut me.”
His shoulder began to shake and writhe, the divine bones shifting underneath his golden skin. Arandus looked Jorr in her eyes as a solid gold hilt jutted from somewhere near his neck. Arandus grasped the handle and pulled until a giant, solid gold axe appeared. The blade was as large as his head and had a wicked curve. Nazul. The arrows popped out of his body and his wounds healed instantly. Arandus stretched his large muscles and swung nazul around, extending it towards Jorr.
“I am Arandus Solandusiir, the god of war and bounty and fortune, eldest son of the old god Solandus, Isanisaris, the real Sun. You cannot fight me and win, Huntress, especially not while I wield nazul. You will not stop me. I will cut down every forest, ravage every plane, and drain every ocean to make a home for my brothers and I if I must. But I do not want to. Spawn of Oni or not, you are still a child of Anwe. And you hate your father as much as I do. Help me, sister. Do not fight me.”
Jorr waved her hand again and the elk relaxed. She ran her long fingers across her bald, moss covered head, and shot Arandus a challenging, inquisitive glare.
“Arandus reminded me of her, faintly,” present Jorr said to Luwyn. “My mother, Anwe. Supplant her pale, white gold hair with his gold laden curls and she could very clearing see the resemblance. But in the end, Arandus shared a face with the old god I’ve never met, his father.”
“We all look like our fathers, in some way, don’t we?” present Jorr asked no one in the god-tongue, staring at the imagine thoughtfully.
Luwyn looked back to the past Arandus and Jorr.
Arandus lowered nazul slowly, and planted its hilt into the ground. “We cannot do this alone. I made this weapon to defeat Oni, which means through it, you will have also be responsible for bringing the Usurper to his demise. Help us, please.”
The image faded away and Jorr turned to Luwyn.
“I let him have the branch, partly because he already took it. But mostly, because I knew it was the right thing to do. I hate Oni,” Jorr said, her voice shaking. “I hate that I have no choice but to think of him as my father. Do you know why Jorr the Huntress is bald? I saw my father too much in that black hair I was born with. So I cut it.” She rubbed her hand over her smooth, shiny head.
“I wanted Arandus to strike him down. I prayed to my mother for it. They day I heard that Arandus had fallen, was the only day I have cried in this long life. I felt like I let him down. Should I have picked a better branch? Should I have left this damned forest to aid him in battle? I will never know. But I do know that I can help you. I will stand by your side on the battlefield if you would have me.”
She knelt down so that their faces were close. “I need you now, Luwyn Arandus.”
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“You know,” Luwyn started. “Your magic is beautiful and incredible. A bit scary sometimes, but beautiful nonetheless. How do you do all of those amazing things? Controlling the mud and dirt, creating a prophecy out of demonic rotten hair and bear claws and green fire, healing me and yourself. How do you do it?”
Fila shrugged. “It’s beyond my comprehension. I am gifted and blessed and I do not take this gift for granted. I appreciate my power, so maybe it just appreciates me back,” she replied with a giggled. Luwyn chuckled back.
Fila stared blankly into the distance for a moment, then asked, “Would you like to hear how magic came about? The true origin of all the magic in the world?”
Luwyn quickly sat up so that Fila’s head was in his lap and he looked down at her. “Go for it,” he said, truly intrigued.
“Ok, ok. Long ago there was a god named Iassa. He was the third of the old sun god, Solandus’s, four sons. You know of his brothers, Arandus, Torsu...”
Luwyn nodded quickly. “And Luwyn. I’m named for him, apparently.”
Fila’s eyes opened wide. “Interesting! Anyway, Iassa was a trickster god, and enjoyed mischief and games. After Solandus was cut down, and his sons chased out of the heavens, Iassa grew cynical and closed off from the world, even his brothers. Iassa eventually left his kin, and travelled the world alone.”
“During his travels, he learned to apply his power and condense it, and channel it through words and movements. Iassa learned that he could harness the power of the old gods, the elements themselves and much more. He labeled this new power mak’ia. Overtime, Iassa recorded and collected his many, many accomplishments and findings into thousands of grimoires. Eventually, mankind caught wind of Iassa’s research and sought offer his guidance. At first, Iassa refused, but after he met a beautiful woman named Osera, he gave in and taught her and many others mak’ia. Iassa has to give a little bit of his power, a bit of himself every time he taught someone mak’ia. It drained him, but at the same time, it fulfilled him. Iassa loved giving himself and helping others with his power and enlightening others. The more he gave of himself, the more it diluted his divinity and immortality.”
“And then what?” Luwyn asked.
“Then, he became mortal,” Fila said, shrugging.
“His life was long, longer than any natural mortal being, but he sacrificed it for his passion. He met the love of his life through mak’ia and created a purpose for himself. When Iassa died, his body faded into mist and it sparked into every crack in the earth, every wind current and wave and some living creatures. Through mak’ia, Iassa is responsible for all of the mystical, wonderous and terrifying creatures and beasts that walk the earth, like dragons and demons and elves and ogres. It was passed down and inherited, mutated nature and created beautiful and terrifying and mystical things and became what we now call magic.”
“So,” Luwyn started, pondering. “Magic is just Iassa’s life force?”
Fila laughed and sat up, making it hard for Luwyn to look her in the eye. “In layman's terms, yes.”
She rolled off of the bed and strolled across the room. She barely pulled on her robes, so that her bare torso was fully exposed and grabbed a large package next to the doorway. It was wrapped in canvas and twine.
“Here is your meat,” Fila chimed. “It would be best if you go now, though. I have more work to do and must be left alone.”
Luwyn was surprised by her shortness. He crawled to edge of the bed and grabbed her hand. “What do you mean? You don’t want me to stay?”
“Not particularly, no,” Fila replied, a small smile still on her face.
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The mud marionettes stopped battling and felt back to the ground. Fila was panting as soon as she finished her story.
Garu clapped sarcastically. “That was wonderful—oof!”
An arrow zipped through the air and nailed Garu in his shoulder so hard he flew back. The arrow was large and made of dark, burgundy wood, with a purple stone arrowhead. Blood ran down Garu’s arm and he tried to stand, but the right side of his body was completely limp. His eyelid sagged shut and the corner of his mouth hung. His arm and leg were useless noodles and he struggled to hold himself up. He tried to speak but his voice came out in gurgles and grunts.
Another arrow struck Fila in her thigh, this time with a blue arrowhead. Fila waited for herself to go limp, but it never happened. A spell snapped from her lips and she waved her hand their attacker’s direction. Nothing happened. She tried another spell and hand movement, and still nothing worked. Fila looked back at Luwyn, her eyes wide and frantic with fear.
“My magic is gone!” she wailed, tears falling down her cheeks.
An arrow flew by Luwyn’s ear, but he ducked and rolled down a small hill, out of the way. He stood and crawled back up the ridge to see someone looming over Garu and Fila.
He couldn’t tell if it were a man or woman; they were bald and their facial features were severe, yet soft and beautiful. They were inhumanly tall and, nearly twice Luwyn’s height and their body wrapped with thin muscle. They wore layers of green and brown furs and leaves and their dazzling, marble white face was hooded and painted with mud and moss. They used a log strapped to their back as a quiver and carried a bundle of human length arrows. The attacker knelt down and examined them. They ripped the arrows from Garu and Fila’s flesh, and threw a large net made of vines over them.
“I am Jorr, the Huntress,” she said. “You are trespassing on hallowed and scared land.” Jorr’s voice was booming and mesmerizing. She sniffed and looked it into the trees.
“There is a third,” Jorr said finally. “I will return for you! You have no business being here. You may try to retrieve your friends, but god’s help you if you do.” Jorr galloped into the trees and disappeared.
Luwyn hopped out of his hiding space and drew his dagger.
“I’ll cut you free,” he said. But every time he managed to break the surprisingly tough vine, it sewed itself back together. There was a loud whistle that echoed through the forest. The long vine at the end of the net started to reel in, until it pulled taut and the net tightened around Garu and Fila and they were dragged away into the forest.
Luwyn tried to keep up with them, but whatever was pulling them went at speeds he couldn’t think of keeping up with. He peered past the net and saw the bald attacker riding away on what looked like a giant green elk, but he wasn’t sure, it was too dark.
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