The Great War: Chapter 12
A conversation with the Spirit
Samuel steps onto the dais, Devin close behind him.
“He wants to see both of us at the same time?” he asks. Devin, his figure cast in shadow, just shrugs back at him.
Samuel lets out a heavy sigh, and the lightning he has been using as his guiding light fizzles out.
The room is dark, though, as last cycle, he can still see Devin’s form standing next to him. And while not drafty, a wave of cold air rolls over his uncovered arms and legs.
He still doesn’t know what to expect when Korodon comes to talk. He has a lot more trust in his friend than his father, even if Devin has never been the biggest fan of the Spirit of Shadow. He doesn’t want to doubt his friend or the Spirit Himself, either, and yet…
“Devin-” he begins, turning to look at his friend once more. But Devin no longer stands at his side, instead the prince turns to face empty darkness instead. With a frown, he turns to look behind him, then to his left, and finds that heavy black shadows have set in around him, and he stands completely alone in the middle of all of it.
“Devin?” he asks the darkness, his voice echoing into the distance. Lightning begins to spark off his clothes once more, trying to light up the space around him.
Please stay your magic, prince, a voice speaks. His heart can’t help but leap as he spins around, coming face-to-face with… Devin? But it’s not his friend; his eyes glow bright white, and he’s smiling softly, like a parent would to their child. And yet whatever being this is wears Devin’s clothes and has Devin’s face all the same.
Samuel once again stops his lightning per the being’s request, the hairs on his arms bristling with static instead.
“Who are you?” he asks, the question tumbling from his mouth.
The Devin impersonator continues to smile back at him. I am sure you know who I am already.
Samuel is quiet. Deep down, he does know the being that he faces. He just wants to hear it from the being Himself.
Despite the appearance, Samuel is now face-to-face with Korodon, the Spirit of Shadow.
“What did You do with Devin?” is his next question.
The Spirit chuckles, His mouth remaining closed the entire time. Do not worry. I have not possessed him. I thought appearing as him would help ease your distress. Now please, the Spirit waves a hand, and a small table appears between the two, with a bowl of fruit and two chairs, sit.
Samuel, wordlessly, strides over to the table and takes his seat. Korodon does the same, His footsteps soundless and His movements fluid.
He’s sitting with the Spirit. He never thought their meeting would be like this.
Eat if you wish, the Spirit invites.
Samuel eyes the fruit with a skeptical glare. “Thank you… mighty Spirit.” Even with the open invitation, he doesn’t want to come across as disrespectful.
Samuel inhales sharply. “Did my father lie?”
No, the Spirit replies, although he acted sooner than I asked.
“Why?”
Korodon shakes his head. That is not for you to know.
Under the table, Samuel laces his fingers together, and he stares straight into the Spirit’s eyes. Some part of him can’t take the Spirit seriously due to His appearance, and yet he’s still torn between worship and regular royal formality.
I have known your family for many centuries, the Spirit speaks, plucking a piece of fruit from the bowl between them. In fact, it was the very first Storm wizard who established your monarchy. He bites into the fruit and closes His eyes, a small sigh blowing through His nose. But a king is not fit for this conflict.
Samuel can’t help but furrow his brow, and his heart aches as if it has just been stabbed. But… he is going to be the next ruler of the wizards! If they manage to survive this war, that is.
He opens his mouth to argue, but his mind instantly blanks as Korodon’s gaze lifts from the fruit in His hand, offering the prince a sympathetic look. In fairness, I said the same to your father. He… did not take it well.
“I’m not surprised,” Samuel finally speaks, sitting back in his chair. He reaches out for a piece of fruit himself and takes the largest bite he can out of it.
One being cannot fight on their own, Korodon says, not against Asandra and Her army. Samuel, Samuel looks up at the Spirit once more, I wish for you to usher in a new Era.
His mouth still full, Samuel points to himself with a look of confusion. Him, to usher in a new Era, how?
His mind first strays to Asandra, and how She rules through her Guardians. Will Korodon want to do the same as Her? The first two of those seven lines Devin showed him at first light, the prince of lightning and the guard of death, clearly refer to himself and his friend, though what they are to do he doesn’t know just yet. Maybe they’re going to be part of some inner circle for Korodon to control.
Korodon doesn’t speak as Samuel turns his head to the side and spits out his mouthful of fruit, panic swirling within him. The Spirit has been nothing but nice so far, which could be a front to have Samuel lower his guard. Maybe the fruit is just a ploy to gain his favor.
“I’m not just going to bend my knee to You willingly,” he growls through gritted teeth.
You misunderstand, the Spirit replies, I would not stoop to Her level.
“Then what do You want from me?”
You already know what I want. All I ask is for you to bring those wizards to Me.
“From… what You told Devin?”
The Spirit nods, His smile slowly returning to His lips.
“But I don’t know which wizards you want.”
Do not worry, you will find them. I am only here to give Blessings.
Before Samuel can speak, Korodon stands, His chair disappearing into the darkness. A cold blast of magic fills the space, pressing against Samuel’s skin, as Korodon gazes down on Samuel with an sense of timeless grandeur only a Spirit can evoke.
Samuel, prince of the wizards, descendants of the Blessed Seven, Korodon speaks, His voice filling the void around them. His form of Devin begins to waver as He begins to rise before Samuel’s eyes. Samuel can’t tell if He is floating or growing in size as His pale skin darkens to a light grey, and His clothes appear to begin to melt into His body. I grant you a power none else shall harness for an age to come. Use it in My name. The Spirit extends a hand to Samuel. Our time is at an end, so I leave you with this: You face a being who will fight to change the Fabric of Fate. Keep your wits about you, and trust in your judgment. Farewell, Samuel.
The Spirit turns away from him, His form melting with the shadows. The chair he sits on disappears the moment Korodon does, and Samuel finds himself dropping onto the stone ground as he is brought back to reality.
Tch, he spits through his teeth as he picks himself up off the ground. Devin stands next to him, his body rigid and his gaze distant. The blade of his scythe on his back now glows with a lightless white aura.
“Devin?” he asks, his voice breaking the silence of the room. Devin blinks once, bringing himself out of his spell, and he turns to face Samuel with a blank stare. Samuel raises an arm to point at his friend’s weapon. “Your scythe is glowing.”
This makes his friend frown as he reaches behind him for his weapon’s shaft. He gives it a brief twirl and stares at the blade momentarily, his face morphing into confusion.
“No it’s not,” he replies, his voice heavy.
Samuel frowns, looking away from his friend and at the walls of the room. Other auras glow through the dark stones. He can see the outlines of the armor and weapons of the palace guards. He watches some of them move, patrols wandering the extensive halls of the castle. He can even see the clasp of his father’s cape as he sits on his throne, a single small dot in the middle of all the visual noise.
“Metal…” he whispers aloud, staring in awe.
“What?” Devin asks.
“I can see metal,” Samuel mutters back.
“That is what He gave you?”
“Apparently…” Samuel tears his eyes away from the mass of glowing lights above him and turns back to his friend. “You?”
Devin lowers his scythe so that it hangs by his side, and reaches out to Samuel with his free hand. The moment his touches Samuel’s shoulder, the dim dais room turns into Samuel’s bedroom in an instant. Surprised, Samuel takes a step away from Devin, looking around at the space, mouth agape. Yes, this is his bedroom.
“Teleportation,” Devin speaks, turning his head to stare out at the balcony, “but He didn’t tell me the limits.”
“He didn’t tell me about the other wizards He spoke of in your dream, either.”
The two fall silent, Samuel mesmerized by the glow of Devin’s blade as Devin searches the sky outside.
What a way to start the cycle.