Shadow of the Abyss

It would be a fortnight to the City of Forwind and three days since that slaughter that had killed seven of the Silvermane Guardsman, injuring ten. Ren had yet to wake, but Altair had commanded she be brought to him when she woke. He'd trusted his shadows to do that much.

"She's still young," The Young Lord said, smiling. "She's nearly six, right?" He could still remember himself doing the same on his mother's lap.

Liana nodded, gently brushing her cheeks with the tenderness of a mother. She looked up at Altair. "Why did you change your mind?" She finally asked him. "Surely it's not because I offered to pay you."

"I'd make a wonderful Sellsword." He grinned, snickering at the annoyed expression that reflected through his multicolored eyes. "The Prince who shall burn the world and create it anew." he reflected, lifting his lips into a half smile. "I don't suppose you know what that meant."

"Afraid not. "Liana said comfortably. "Though, I thought you had a woman to find. A young Red Head? Quite the taste. Redheads: from what I know, tend to be witches, devil worshipers, or mad."

"My Father said the same thing. Never trust a bitch with red hair, he'd say." The Prince chuckled. "Although I don't see it. Perhaps I'm lucky."

"Or Blind"

"Probably just lucky."

There was a mischievous glow in Liana's emerald almond-shaped eyes that shone like stars. "Now I know you are smitten. A wife, is she?"

"Not yet, but soon." He assured her. The carriage shook, and Ser Greymort galloped beside the window.

"Riders ahead," he said in a whisper so as not to wake his Lady. "Be prepared." And he was off, racing ahead with seven men on his heel.

As if he could sense her fear, Altair looked calmly at Liana. "It's alright." he comforted. "There probably just merchants."

"You don't know that," Liana hissed softly. She hated the unknown. The taste it brought was one she knew all too well: Fear. For years, she lived in it. Bounded and beaten, whipped, and branded before her father sold her off to a local slave caravan for a few silver. She was seven then.

Altair eyed her deeply, for he did know. The souls of the dead had spoken all he needed to know of this Realm of Yarwin.

"Then shall we make a bet?" He said, lightening the mood, seemingly ignorant of his devilish charm that seemed to hasten the young knight's heart. The Band of the Incubus trembled within his soul, tempting all around him.

Liana felt the embers of fire rise within her. She took a wisp of the air, pulling in the masculine aroma he brought. "What's the bet?" She absentmindedly asked. When Liana came to, she saw Altair pocketing seven bronze coins and just about reddened like a cooked lobster.

"I… Loss.' She muttered, unsure what had come over her. Greymort had returned with good news, and yet she felt so… restrained. Heat swept over the young knight, racing over her cheeks.

'I gambled? I never gamble.' Liana thought. The very thought had reminded her of her father.

"Happens to the best of us." The Prince teased. He looked out the window, enjoying the rustle of winds billowing against his cheek, threading through his hair. 'I still can't remember…' he thought, resisting the urge to frown. He could still recall the mounting aura of the Vale, caressing up his cheek, the cry of the raven and… golden light.

He winced as his head began to ache, and the memory began to fade.

In the days following, ebbing into weeks, Altair did little but cultivate. The Law within the Realm of Yarwin had ensured he could not summon his Dark Moon Blades. Luckily, he found his compulsion worked.

It had been a curious thing to the Prince. His Infernal Lightning had been sealed, but spells weren't. Perhaps it was due to the systematic system they followed. Mana within these lands, while denser than it was in the Serpent's Outreach, seemed fleeting. One minute, it existed the next; it didn't, as if it found it difficult to maintain itself in the material plane.

Such a reason alone had caused destabilization amongst his skills like Infernal Lightning and Dark Moon Blade. And yet, such a restriction didn't exist for his Vale Manipulation.

Sitting beneath the four Moons of Yarwin, Altair bore the small wisp of Vale that felt as heavy as a mountain in the center of his palm. Sheens of sweat glistened above his brow, shrieking down his cheeks like a cutting sword. He groaned and winced, trying with all his might to hold on. Around his neck, webs of thick black veins climbed up his jaw, protruding with vigor before fading.

Altair collapsed onto his back, gasping for air. "Hells. Ten seconds." He grunted through labored breaths, spotting darkness filling his eyes. For a while, he lay there catching his breath, powerless to move.

'My Lord. The Lady is awake.' He heard Kirr communicate.

With a burst of strength, Altair stood up and peered through his Shadows eyes.

Drowsy, she stood, her golden eyes still murky from her long rest. Ren yawned, looking at Kirr. "Rens hungry." She said like a child.

"Typical," Altair muttered. None of his shadows had seemed to know what happened that day, and neither did Ren when he began to question her. All Altair knew was that he must have commanded his Fallen Shadows into Ren's shadow because none of them were with him.

"What the Hell happened? And how did we get here? And are we the only ones here?" The Prince wondered as he began to refine his Mana.

When dawn broke, Altair had broken his fast with Lady Aria before making their way towards the Walls of Forwin, large like mountains, it stood, crusted and black, as if they had faced a recent siege. Two towers stood on each side, nested with archers at the top and a squad below, armed with spears.

Forwin was blistering, consumed with hundreds of humans, elves, demi-humans, and strange creatures Altair had seen only through the memories of those he killed.

"Make way!" Ser Greymort demanded in a roar. "Aria of House Silvermane, Lady of the North, Heir of the Helm, and Chosen of Aidios is approaching! Make way!!!"

"You've quite a bit of titles under your belt, Little Ari," Altair said to her.

Aria flashed him a grin. " Of course, I'm awesome!" she exclaimed, shooting him a wink.

In the seconds that followed, the banner of House Silvermane shone through the skies, along with a hoard of armed knights marching through the streets. Their silver armor glinted off the rays of first light. Commoners and nobles made way, fearing for their lives, as a gallant young blonde-haired man galloped down the cobblestone streets on horseback.

"Sister!" He shouted with a smile.

And for the first time, Altair saw Aria's joyous expression crumble.

"Vanro," she whispered in a hushed tone, receding into her chair like a doll without life.

Altair had never seen her like this as he peeped out the window to the Lordling trotting past the wall.

"A Lord must always smile," Altair said to her, brushing his fingers across her cheek. "Whether it be to family or enemies. We smile, for it hides our weakness."

"My Lady…" Liana muttered.

"Sister!" Vanro shouted, dismounting in a huff. Two guards opened the door to her carriage.

"Greetings, Elder Brother," Aria said with a poised smile that did not seem to fit her young age. It looked forced and clumsy, but it was enough, she at least hoped. "Are you here to escort me to Father for my upcoming rite?" she asked, somehow feeling her words giving her strength. She had no longer felt fear or loathing… Though she wasn't sure why.

But from the moment Aria heard Altair tell her to smile, she felt all her worries fade, almost as if he had compelled away her fears.

"Yes…" Vanro said, taken back. He had half expected her pale and frightened. Not smiling. "I've—" He paused, glancing towards what seemed like a commoner by the rags he wore." Who are you to sit with a Lord?!" He barked, snapping his eyes to Liana. "You, a knight of House Silvermane, allowed my Sister, the Blood of Aidios, to ride with a peasant!"

"A Peasant? Well, that's a first." Altair laughed. "Even your knights thought I was at least a Lordling or a merchant. Aria… do I look like a peasant?"

The little girl's smile brightened. "Of course not! More like a prince who felled the nine-headed hydra!" she exclaimed in her starry blue eyes.

Altair turned to the burning expression of Vanro, stewing fire in his eyes. " See! Even your sister agrees. You can address me as Lord Altair since we are not that close."

So angry he stood, Vanro's voice practically thundered as it rumbled against the stone walls. " Bastard! Have you any idea who I am!" he roared.

'The man who hired a small band of sellswords to kill his sister,' Altair wished to say but held his tongue. "A bastard." He said calmly. " Born of a common whore from what I hear."

Liana turned a grim pale.

"You—"

"A bastard ought to know its place before the true heir." The Prince began with presence in his voice.

Vanro ate his words and staggered back in a panic, shaken by primal instinct. By the time he realized it, his longsword was in his hand, but the Prince was no longer paying him any mind.

"Aria," He said, amused by the awe in her dazzling eyes. "Shall we proceed ahead? We do not need to entertain the whims of a bastard."

"Ser Vanro, if you'll excuse me," Aria said, showing the proper greetings of a lady. She gave the command, and her carriage was off, trotting forward, led away by Silvermane Guardsman. Vanro could only follow, the humiliation thick on his heel.

The carriage was silent for a while before Aria erupted into laughter. Though Liana had found there was nothing to laugh about. She didn't understand how her Lady could laugh. Nor how she gained such courage to speak or smile the way she had.

"My Lady… That was dangerous. Vanro—"

"Is a bastard." Altair finished." And you ought to treat him like one. There should be no reason for her to shake in fear. She is a Lord."

"But the Lord Edwin treats him—"

"Liana." Altair cut in, silencing her. " It matters not what Edwin does or says by her birth rite. Lady Aria is the true heir. I suggest you start treating her like one, or she'll be eaten alive." he said and poked the little girl's nose with a boop as she giggled. "Who knows… Perhaps those 'bandits' that attacked us were all part of Vanro's handy work."

Liana felt a cold sliver of sweat trail down her spine. 'Did Vanro… Did he hire them to kill us?' She wondered, pale as a ghost.