CHAPTER 5:
The brisk autumn air stung Verion's face as he ascended the mountain, his white beard failing to shield his chin from the winter chill. He raised his gloved hands to his face, exhaling warm breath into them to ward off the cold. Retrieving his embroidered handkerchief from his red blazer, he dabbed his nose before tucking it back into his pocket, continuing his journey through the forest towards the temple of the priestess.
Verion was a peculiar figure, often mistaken for a man in his late 30s or early 40s despite his profound wisdom and wit. His companions regarded him as an old soul, evidenced by his deliberate gait and distinguished demeanor. Adorned in his customary attire of a crimson blazer with two distinct tails, he sported a meticulously crafted black top hat atop his head and wielded a gilded cane, a gift from the king. Though lacking a gold band on his ring finger, he wore an assortment of jewelry, including a curious signet ring adorned with a green ore upon his pinky finger.
Today held special significance for Verion, a rare occasion for him to momentarily set aside his duties as one of Avalion's high lords. With care, he had prepared a special incense as an offering and gathered an array of gems as a gift. While others might view the day as somber, Verion approached it with optimism, always looking ahead to the future and mindful of his sister's aversion to sadness.
A smile graced Verion's lips as the temple came into view, its once-grand structure now marred by time and neglect. Though reduced to rubble, the craftsmanship of a master artisan still shone through the intricate engravings and markings adorning the broken pillars. As Verion prepared to enter the temple, movement caught his eye near the entrance, prompting him to approach with a quizzical expression, cane in hand.
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Grey's descent onto the cold marble floor was met with a resounding thud, his head throbbing from the impact. As he groaned and attempted to rise, a sharp pressure against his side halted his movement. Extracting a stained piece of glass from beneath him, confusion clouded Grey's thoughts as he surveyed his surroundings within the ruined temple.
The once-majestic structure lay in ruins, its crimson carpet leading towards the altar now torn and frayed, while toppled columns littered the pathway. Yet amidst the destruction, Grey found himself drawn to the intricate drawings and tapestries adorning the walls, their beauty captivating him. One tapestry depicted a baby bathed in moonlight, its eyes reflecting a piercing gray hue, while another portrayed a beast-like creature adorned with a golden crown, reminiscent of his father.
Gazing through a hole in the ceiling, Grey observed the moonlight casting its glow upon the exit, prompting him to navigate the rubble towards freedom. As he emerged from the temple, a sudden rush of cold wind greeted him, causing his body to shiver involuntarily. Puzzled by the unexpected chill, Grey ventured towards the road leading away from the temple, only to find himself suddenly under attack by an elderly man wielding a cane.
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Verion observed the boy emerging from the temple with a mixture of suspicion and hostility. "What is a child doing in the temple of the priestess?" he hissed under his breath. "He must be an interloper of some sort." Retreating down the path, Verion concealed himself behind fallen columns, lying in wait for the boy to pass by. As the footsteps drew nearer, he tightened his grip on his cane, preparing to strike. Bursting from his hiding spot, Verion swung his cane towards the boy's head, but the nimble youth evaded the attack with surprising agility. "Drasted criminal," Verion thought, growing increasingly agitated. "He must be a thief. A normal boy wouldn’t have sensed my presence." Brandishing his cane, Verion relentlessly assaulted the boy, aiming blow after blow in an attempt to subdue him.
Despite Verion's relentless assault, the boy evaded each strike with remarkable agility, deftly maneuvering across the grass. Growing frustrated by the boy's evasive tactics, Verion resorted to using a bit of magic.
Grey, recognizing the threat, quickly reacted to avoid the stranger's staff. "What the heck? An enemy? He must be a Kyria!" Anger simmered within Grey, but he knew he stood little chance against his assailant. Dodging the attacks, Grey felt his left leg give way, causing him to collapse to the ground. Shielding his face with his arms, he braced for the impact of the stranger's staff.
Verion continued his assault, demanding answers from the boy amidst the flurry of strikes. "Who are you?" he demanded, striking Grey repeatedly with his cane. Despite Verion's interrogation, the boy responded with unintelligible muttering, further fueling Verion's frustration. Raising his cane higher, Verion prepared to deliver a more forceful blow, only to be caught off guard as the boy's leg shot out, knocking him backward. Seizing the opportunity, Grey quickly regained his footing, preparing to defend himself.
As Grey wiped blood from his mouth, he seethed with anger. "Did I seriously get beat by an old man with a stick?" His mind raced, contemplating the identity of his attacker. "He must be Kyria." Despite his anger, Grey cautiously confronted the stranger. "Who are you?" he growled, wary of the man's intentions. The man's response only deepened Grey's confusion, prompting him to question the stranger's motives.
Verion, intrigued by the boy's defiance, lowered his cane and extended a signet ring towards him. Observing Grey's hesitation, Verion sighed and tossed the ring to him, signaling his intent to communicate.
Grey, initially wary of the gesture, caught the ring and regarded the stranger with suspicion. Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head, shocking him into silence. As the realization dawned upon him, Grey faced the man with a mixture of astonishment and apprehension.
“Can you hear me alright?” Grey looked around in shock, his eyes wide as he processed the unexpected voice in his head. The man chuckled, pointing a finger at himself. “I’m right here.” Grey's mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You can understand me now, right? Speak. I should be able to hear you.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Verion Avalion, 4th lord of the kingdom of Avalion. And who are you?”
“Avalion? That sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. My name is Grey.”
“Just Grey? Do you have a family name, an identification?”
“I don’t have one. It’s just Grey.”
“Are you a spy?”
“A spy? A spy for whom? You attacked me out of nowhere!”
“Hmm. Fair point. How do you know about this place? How did you find it?”
“I woke up here. Are you a Kyria?”
Verion froze, his entire being absorbing the weight of the boy's words. “What did you say?”
Grey’s jaw clenched, his stance becoming defensive. “Are you a Kyria?”
Verion felt a tremor course through him. He hadn’t heard that word in decades, and now, in the midst of the forest, beside an ancient temple, on his sister’s birthday, it echoed in his ears. “How do you know that word?” Verion demanded, his gaze piercing into Grey.
Grey hesitated, unsure how the man would react. “I- I’ve fought them before.”
Verion began to channel his inner mana, preparing for a confrontation. “That’s impossible. Kyria have been dead for centuries.”
Grey was puzzled, sensing the gravity of the situation. “That can’t be. They just attacked my village!”
“Where is your village?”
“In the Crimson Valley, on the banks of the Mystic Rhine! It’s a secluded place on the edge of the world, but—” Grey’s voice trailed off as his body suddenly seized up, immobilized by a mysterious force. Verion approached him, his aura darkening with intensity.
“Who are you, child?” Verion raised his cane, pressing it against Grey's throat, his gaze piercing.
“I’m— I’m Grey, son of the Harbinger of Death, son of Natarra, grandson of the Ravaging Demon.”
Verion’s world seemed to halt. The boy knew his sister's name, and his revelation struck at the very core of Verion's understanding. Natarra, his sister, mentioned by this boy as his mother—it was a revelation that shook Verion to his core.