"Shadowchild" - Soilwork
Strutting out from the Festhall fitting room, Danielle would perk slightly as the tenant called her out. “Oi... love. think this is for you.” The colorfully dressed woman would chime, offering an unmarked, folded note to the Fey'ri. “Curious... my thanks though.” Offering politely, before taking the note and striding out to the main corridor. Casually the paper would unfold, revealing the brief message in Dregethan, a language born of the forsaken House Dlardrageth, which was an odd mixture of Elven and Abyssal speak.
Dearest Danielle,
It is me, or rather you. There is need for us to meet again, as an urgent matter has changed the nature of all things. Such will be discussed in person. Meet me by the gateway to darkness, where dead men are damned to walk for all eternity.
~ Alehs'ielle The Grey
A fond smirk came to part the Fey'ri's lips. There was a rare, yet refreshing feeling in such certainty of sincerity in the notice. Few knew the odd runes and curving characters of Dregethan, and even fewer knew her true house name. The meeting would carry out without delay.
Surely enough, the witch would be casually leant to the wall in wait, but as the younger self approached, a warm smile creased her features, a smile only a mother would harbor for their most beloved child. The younger settled the the wall beside her nonchalantly, clicking to the Dregethan speech.
“A letter? Hmm... I dare say this is the first time I've heard of you being discreet as of late.” Spoken with a playful mirth. Such would earn a soft snicker from the Grey as she'd lean in closer to hug her younger self fondly. “There is a great deal to discuss, and despite our tongues, I'd rather not do so in this place in such detail. I was to have fallen in battle, but something unexpected has happened. The course of fate has changed, and a branch of new events are unfolding. Follow me, and remember this place fondly we visit, such will be the place the tide of things shall turn, and it is only by your memory alone it shall be reached.”
Such words made the younger form's eyes widen. Such mastery of that dreaded puzzle-box artifact were at work here, but it was surprising yet that fate denied the flesh the simple courteously of death. Perhaps fate can only be bent so much after all. Confidently, the younger took her guardian's hand, whom used her own artifact to grant passage a place ravaged by the crueler hands. Such would be a place only known in memory, a place to believed to be long dead and defeated.
The two stood in what appeared to be a crumbling keep of sorts. Lulling clouds overcast the sky, raining the faintest kiss of mist upon flesh and features, nearly colorless place. The feeling was familiar to them both, negative energy harnessed before would nearly hiss at their fingertips in its potency of pacted power.
“You stand in the Plane of Shadow twenty years from your time.” The Grey would explain, gesturing the ruined keep with a slow stepping advance along its broken scape. “This is where the Shadowsworn made their last stand, and were slaughtered down to the last clone. This was the last battle before the end, before the Light in the Darkness.”
“The Architects...” The younger acknowledged with some awe, witnessing the damage first hand from the ominous form, coven, being; Such was not known.
“The Shadowsworn are not your enemy, Alehs'ielle, despite our bitter confrontation with them and The Ashen.” The Grey would go on, causing the younger to perk a brow inquisitively. “I was a personal agent of The Shaper, and that is how I was able to reach you all these times. As you know, The Shaper is no more, and a newer, darker power rises in his fall. Such are of powers greater than even The Shaper himself could of ever hoped to be. Such, is the Light in the Darkness.
While I was in your place before, this is where my mentor died in my arms. She told me that we have a final chance, that we mustn't fail. In other dimensions parallel to our own, The Shaper succeeded in destroying the multiverse. One by one each of those possibilities fell, and now ours is all that remains. Or rather... yours.”
Such explanations nearly made the younger chuckle as she shook her head. “Such is the recurring theme of things, what makes this any different?”
“When was your nature to accept what has been, Alehs'ielle? When was it to ever be content? All your life you have been running, seeking for such an answer. Soon you will face enemies that will make The Ashen seem like a fleeting memory, and you will need to be prepared to face them. In order to do this, I have gifts for you. I may have evaded my end for now, but it will eventually come. What is inevitable for me, is not for you.” Staring deeply to her younger self, she'd pad over and lift her chin calmly, meeting her eyes softly. “You mustn't give up hope. Not when your time to shine draws nigh.”
The youth would frown a little in the face of the severity of the situation. Never had she seen the wiser self implore such a thing with urgency. “I'll carry whatever you grant me fondly, all the way to nothing less than certain victory.”
“Good, life as you know it depends on it.” The Grey would add warningly, easing that embrace from the younger woman. “Several things are occuring at this point in time. The Lost Crusade, The Toril Crusade, The Feywar, The Elemental Disruption, and even the Faction Tensions. Many of these small events are building steps for the Architects.”
“With everyone beating themselves, the raven swoops in for the easy pickings.” Seeming to grasp the greater scope of the situation. A part of her started to feel powerful, almost as if a commander assessing a grand war. Little did she know. “Weakening the resolve behind the scenes to strike when all are too weak to fight back.”
Those words would cause The Grey to smirk to herself with an approving nod. “You understand well, I am glad to see my influences have not gone to waste. Eavesdropping on those Dlardrageth generals paid off did it not?” Nearly snickering, perhaps recalling the youth's expression of immense boredom when she was indeed merely child in the safety of that hidden keep.
Such was swept away quickly though as she drew one of the first gifts, a curiously forged bastard sword, a mythed Felblade that shimmered with runes of ancient wisdom from hand to hand it passed. It was the Grey's personal blade, passed down from cycle to cycle, carrying the essence of the Witch's infinite being. “Take this Felblade, forged and liberated from the depths of Abyss. It has never failed me, nor did it ever fail the those before us. I feel that it may be a key to your success here.”
The young woman took the blade with a firm grip. Practice would be needed to handle the new wargear, but that was no unfamiliar feeling to her when it came to felling foes in the abyss. She'd draw the blade from the scabbard, examining the blade with a curious grin of appreciation for the craft, her abyssal axe was more of a sentimental ceremonial thing, but this blade brimmed with practical power. Knowledge is power, and this blade granted that and more. “My success here?” She'd ask, holding the blade still.
“Indeed. You'll need an able fighting force of sorts to face off the Light in the Darkness. So I grant you a gift more mighty than even that blade, more powerful and dangerous than any Agent of the Architects, if nurtured and looked after well. The Leadership of the Shadowsworn, falls to me, but it will not be me who leads them. They need a strong, young, powerful leader.” Amongst the ruins, glowing eyes would start to form, glaring down at the pair, approaching slowly in every horrifying shape they came. Experiments, creatures, beings lost with the fall of their creator. Their god. “I grant you everything that The Shaper had, for what you have experienced with The Ashen, you know both the merits, and dangers of such technology.”
The youth would spin around warily as the eyes draw nearer and those shapes came out. There was a faint sympathy for them. They were damned from the start, much like those failed children of Dlardrageth, twisted and deformed as blood wouldn't settle. Abominations with will, damned to their own disfigured and blistering mind. “You give me an army?”
“The Shadowsworn are weak, crippled since our last attempt to assassinate Anastaria. It will be a long road to recovery, and while there are few in numbers, I give you machines and technology far beyond your time, and the means to deploy them in this backward time line." The Grey would hold out a key and insistently press it to her youthful self, clasping her fingers over it urgently. "This keep, its men, and weapons are yours to command to the cause. You must seek out allies, and be wary of foes, unlikely as they may be.
That key though, grants you the most powerful weapons in the universe. Surely you recall the infamous, Aegis? The Harmonium currently control the debris around it, but if they were removed, what remains of its shipyard might still be salvageable. But to remove them demands subtlety, or blunt victory with an army. The Shadowsworn may be formidable, but they cannot retake what is ours with such force, not yet. A diversion, or even infiltration to the place may prove a more effective tactic.
There is Zilvai of the Bleak Cabal, a young woman who has studied deep into the power of the Shadowsworn. She has a talented knack for invention and turning some of the blueprints here to reality. The Dustmen themselves carry with them the Stone of Utopia, an ancient relic that held the world of The Shaper together.” She peered over the desolate timeless realm, with a forlorn face.
"But I saw the stone destroyed by The Shaper himself in a vision he offered. I saw it ripped asunder by deceit." Tilting her head lightly, seeming to drink in her wiser form's words.
“There is a darker truth. It was not destroyed, but corrupted heavily. The Shaper's past incarnation somehow managed to salvage the heart of Utopia for himself, an unforeseen twist in The Shaper's own memory. The stone is corrupt, Alehs'ielle. It drove even Hildmor D'Kridis mad in a simple touch, despite his formidable knowledge of the Shadow-Weave. The stone is kept by the Dustmen now. Earn their trust, and find a means to redeem the Heart's Power... as The Shaper said.” Wincing a little in confusion from those vague words.
“Perhaps I'll pay him a visit and ask specifically.” Grinning coyly, patting that puzzle-box bound in chains, as it hung from the youth's belt. A dark brow would lift from the Witch upon such suggestion, offering a nod of approval. “Clever Alehs'ielle, you're learning the device quite quickly."
Looking back to her youth a lingering moment, the witch would continue on. “You must also befriend the one known as Phoenix within the Anarchists. He will not trust you right away, certainly not after The Shaper ruined his forces. His nature is wild, and driven to bring revolution. You share a common goal, rebuilding fallen nations, use that wisely.
Finally, your bitter enemies, the Doomguard must play a part within this too. You know well that they'd welcome the Light in the Darkness with the end they'd bring, but you can manipulate them into a crusade, a campaign even to drive back The Architects, and explore the ruinous void they've left in their wake. No less, their armory and master weapon-craft will be invaluable to equip the men and manufacture the war machines if more are needed.”
The youth would scoff at such a suggestion, wincing with distaste. “You drive fine points about them. If I must I will, grudgingly mind you.” The Witch would let out a low snicker at the youth's sour expressions. “That matters not, so long as it comes to pass.
Be mindful to know your enemies now though. Anastaria is Factor of the Athar, Saint Anastaria to her peers. She has bought the friendship of many, including your own comrade, Fargul Bernadotte. Her influence is dangerous, and will only serves to damage what little unity there is within the ring.
The lawyer, Hildmor D'Kridis is another you mustn't trust, for he has sold himself to The Light in the Darkness, another puppet like so many. He would sell the Cage itself if he could, if it meant securing rule over it. Even a flawed man can learn from his mistakes, in time perhaps, he might be redeemable, or simply easier to manipulate.
Lastly, there is the young and ambitious fool, Kain, from the mists of Ravenloft. The architects have him on a leash while he possesses the Book of Utopia. The book itself is sacred text of their forbidden works, sentient, hypnotic, and with proper use, dangerous. With the book, Kain may be your greatest enemy, likely to become a rival even beyond the Architect's defeat."
The Witch would be aware of the wealth of knowledge passing from her lips, perking a brow lightly to her younger self inquisitively. The youth would find herself pensive, drinking in the wealth of information to her memory. "Is anything so far difficult to follow? Have you any questions my dear?"
"No, it is all just..." She thought back to her family back on the Cage, Lyra, Darramar, Ymerion, Isonade and others. A sickly feeling started to rise from her belly, that miserable feeling of doubt sinking in for a moment. She had to separate herself from them, if for a short while. She drew in a sharp breath, swallowing such doubt to snuff it out. "No, I understand clearly." She had to separate for a short while, otherwise all would be lost.
The young woman would rise that Fel blade high and address the peering figures still surrounding them, all well aware if their purpose with The Witch's words, but there was still doubt in them. These tourtured souls shared with her the same pains, the same suffering, she saw it in their eyes as refelction of her own. They too had been victims, experiments, playthings of others. It was only fitting, someone who could relate to all that pain could also bring them out of it. "Hear me then, all of you. Let us be the dark then. We'll snuff out this alleged 'Light' in this darkness. We shall meet this alleged 'power' the true meaning of Dark! They will pay for their deeds with their blood! Vengeance for the pain, sorrow, and suffering wrought upon us. They shall burn with the fury they've fed to our hearts! They shall die by our hand, and be cast out of history, forgotten! Now then, all of you, comrades, fellow shades and afflicted, gather your things. Let us make something of this blasted place, our Sanctuary of Shadow."
The Witch nodded in approval to the youth's words. Those fiery words stirred the hearts in the Lost surrounding them, The Shadowsworn had lifted their arms and gurgled cheers and wild shouts, calling for blood! "You heard your leader. You heard the command of The Shaper, Alehs'ielle Alen'danyth!" The festering creatures dispersed, hammering and shifting ruins toward the keep. The title "Shaper" made the youth buzz with a powerful high deep in her belly. Finally, an means to let her boiling blood act on something purposeful. That infernal blood would take no more, and punish those responsible to every physical extent.
The Witch's hands would rest to her youth's shoulders, pressing a reassuring squeeze as she'd rest her forehead to the back of her head lightly. “I am sorry to place such a burden upon you, Alehs'ielle, but you must be the one to rally these people. The quietest spark of hope, is always the one that will bring fire to the torch.” They'd both smile in the closeness, the youth leaning back to the Witch's frame. ”The Shaper has done all this to prepare you for what is to come. You are ready, I can see clearly.” Hesitation came to The Witch's words. “And soon, I must leave forever.” Those hands would smooth downward and join with her youth's, smiling sadly. “When all this is over, you will be left to walk your own path freely, whether that means you choose a content life, or strive like many of your former selves, for perfection, that choice will be in your hands soon. You are the first to have truly outlasted us... and that makes the difference. For now, I must deliver a few more warnings before meeting my peace.
The Youth would squeeze those hands fondly, relishing in that hold, that affectionate gesture so rare. “Gone, but never forgotten.” Looking to meet the tired Witch's eyes. “You shall never truly die. In whatever peril you face ahead of your dutiful end...” She'd offer a reassuring smile. “You are immortalized in my memory, and thus undying.”
The Witch would feel a stray tear shed against her will at those words as her lip twitched in uncomfortable pain, before a happier sniff and nod, hugging her youth closely to herself. “I'm so proud of you.” She'd utter out in a soft, barely contained whimper. “So proud.” Sighing out sadly, before reluctantly drawing away, stepping backward as she so grudgingly, like a mother leaving their child to their own. “Farewell, my love.” She'd murmur quietly, only to vanish in a fading glow of light from a temporal gate.
The young Alehs'ielle took a sharp intake of breath, cletching that blade in her hand with a greater vindication. Those words stirring within her. “They will pay for this... they won't know what hit them.” She'd swear upon herself, containing her welled eyes as she'd start grimly to the dark horizon of the shadow plane with that blade's tip pressed to the earth.
