Chapter 1: Prologue
The devastation of the battle altered inexorably the scenery: the lush radiance of the valley had been replaced by the putrescent miasma of death.
Numerous corpses, or at least part of them, decorated the area, giving the sight an unpleasant feeling.
A small group tried to piece together the remains of the bodies as best as they could; but the conditions of some were so disastrous that they left no choice but to bury the little that remained to give a semblance of dignity.
Only a woman stood still in her place; she was kneeling on the ground and her hand held tenderly that of one of the corpses left in the area. But what stood out most of all was the imposing figure that stood beside her: gigantic, its shape could have been sighted from tens of kilometers away even by the most distracted traveler.
The being was covered with shining scales whose color resembled the most precious platinum. Its features, which resembled those of a large lizard, and its wings made clear the race to which it belonged, the strongest and most frightening in the world: that of dragons
The dragon looked sadly at the girl and the body lying beside her. More than once he tried to open his mouth to try to make a sound, any one to end the silence, but he could not.
In the end it was the girl who spoke first: "It's useless Tsa, Riku has decided to not accept the resurrection. It seems that the weight he carried was too great. At least now I hope he has finally found some peace."
"It's all my fault, Rigrit. If only I had been honest with you from the start none of this would have ever happened. The world has lost one of its greatest protector, and all because of my species. Once again."
The girl could not accept these words: You have nothing to do with what happened here and I'm sure he too would agree with me; "please don't tear your soul apart for what we've seen. That dragon, that filthy being, had nothing in common with you. Yes, you deceived us, and I will not lie to you: nothing would make me more satisfied than filling that puppet you used with kicks, but in times of need you have always been there to guide us. If it hadn't been for the weapons and equipment, you gave us, our adventure would have ended against the first of those damned monsters. I have already lost too many companions today; I will not let another one drown in despair." Tears came out of her eyes; she had always been honest with her emotions and she had never backed down from speaking her mind.
It was a quality that Tsaindorcus Vaison had always admired in her and that more than once he wished it was his.
"Yet Riku and his friend would not have died if it wasn't for my father's lust for power. And not only them, even the 6 Great Gods or the 8 Greed Kings, as hostile as they were to me, perhaps would have had a better fate. Eventually these "players" found themselves catapulted into an unknown place only for the greed of my people. We have contaminated the world first, not them." The regret was evident in his voice
Rigrit did not know what to answer him, she wanted to console him, to tell him that his father's mistakes did not fall on him, but she remained silent.
In the depths of her heart, she had not yet forgiven Tsa for deceiving them, and after learning of the phenomenon called "waves" she could not disagree with his words.
Meanwhile, a slender hooded figure was detached from the other survivors and began to accuse the dragon: "It's your fault that this happened, yours and your damned species. If only you hadn't used that lousy armor and fought in your true form from the very beginning, Leader would still be alive and the souls of others wouldn't be lost forever. Their blood is on your hands. Did you hear me?"
The voice was filled with resentment and anger, anger at herself for not being able to do anything and at having seen most of her friends die. The other survivors had gathered around her, only five of them remained, including Rigrit. The other three, a regal-looking elf, a thick-armored ogre, and a tiger-like woman said nothing, but their gaze made it clear to Tsa that they shared those words.
"Keno is right, there are no reasons that justify my behavior. I can't fix what happened here, but I can at least make sure it doesn't happen again. It's time to put an end to this endless cycle of destruction, I don't know if it will work but let me make amends."
"Tsa, what are you going to do? We are mad with you but we don't want you to hurt yourself. No matter what happens, we are companions to the end, remember? We can't lose you too." Rigrit tried to reason with his old friend and teacher, but by now the decision had been made.
"If there is anything that you all have taught me is to act in accordance with your beliefs, no matter what the consequences. If wild magic has started the advent, wild magic will end it."
"Are you sure of what you say? The cost of souls required should be exorbitant and there is no certainty that it will work." Keno didn't know how to feel about that.
"I just have to hope it works. My friends, I give you one last task: protect Eryuentiu, don't let its weapons fall into the wrong hands. Especially in those of the cardinals. Use the nation I founded, the Republic of Argland, to fight the Theocracy."
"Will we ever meet again?" Rigrit asked.
"Who knows, but deep down in my heart I am relieved to know that I leave this world in your hands. Goodbye my friends, take care of yourself."
And with these words he took off while what remained of the brave heroes remained motionless, in silence, to honor their lost friends for the last time.
CHAPTER 1: A light in the dark
Nazaire descended the numerous stairs that connected the Cathedral of Darkness to the dungeons of the city of Silksuntecks.
Outside the evening was approaching, people were starting to close their shops and businesses, ready to retire to their homes after a hard day's work. The streets were beginning to empty, only the city guards remained in sight: not that they were really needed, the capital of the Theocracy of Slane was the safest place in the world, at least for humans. Crime was non-existent within the city and the possibility that some monster could break through the walls and enter the squares was close to zero.
Because the Theocracy had not instituted the adventurer system as the other human kingdoms had recently done, it had prompted most of the people who discovered they had a talent for combat or magic to join the army. The meritocratic system made it even more advantageous for out-of-the-ordinary men to join the state force: even the humblest of peasants could become a great general or magical seeker if he showed the right attitude.
Yes, her nation was truly the jewel of humanity, the legacy of the gods to men.
No other place was so perfect for humans, no other place devoid of any darkness or imperfection.
Or so she thought in the past, before she was given the task for which she now walked through those narrow corridors connected to other narrow corridors, connected in turn to other narrow corridors.
When she started, 30 years ago, she had been assigned an expert guide to navigate the gigantic network of tunnels that lurked beneath the capital.
Only after a couple of years she had managed to memorize the route to take without the help of anybody.
Now she knew the way perfectly and would have wagered that she would be able to complete it even with her eyes closed, after repeating it so many times.
The point of arrival had always remained the same over these long years.
One of the bifurcations led to a small underground arena, tradition had it that it was built by Imirduo, God of the earth, to train the first generation of Scriptures to fight the demihumans.
Now the training of the scriptures was entrusted to other, more equipped facilities, and the arena housed only two individuals, at least since she began serving.
She was not surprised to find herself in front of the same scene she had become accustomed to.
A woman with long black hair was fighting with a peculiar-looking child.
Her hair was perfectly divided into two colors: the left side was white while the right one a dark black that matched the other woman's hair color. The pupils also had the same color symmetry, one white, the other black.
The girl was out of breath, her face a pool of blood; with her left arm she was holding the other arm, probably broken, and it was evident that she was barely standing.
The situation would have prompted anyone to rush to the child and get her to safety, which Nazaire, the first time she saw the scene, had foolishly done.
But the torturer, Faine, was not as indulgent as she was and throw her away with such force and speed that the woman almost thought she was going to die.
Eventually she got away with little and after a couple of weeks had already stopped using crutches.
She had since then realized that when Faine was training her daughter, there was no one who could get in the way. In reality, more than training it would have been better to say slaughtering, in all that time she had never explained anything to her about the art of fighting, nor had she given her any advice on how to move on the battlefield. She just threw her in the ring and beat her until she thought it was enough.
More than once Nazaire had begged her to stop the training, warning her that she ran the risk of killing the girl.
"If she dies, I will always be able to resurrect her." The coldness with which she said it always left her amazed.
"Again" she said to the girl.
She was always surprised at how that little girl always managed to keep fighting despite her injuries and fatigue. Not that it made any difference: her every blow was easily neutralized and her mother's reaction became more and more violent.
At least today she just used her fists and no weapons, you could see she was in a good mood.
Faine was strong, strong like no one else in the Theocracy. As captain of the Black Scriptures, she stood as the defender of humanity from any threat, and her skills had earned her recognition as a trump weapon by her superiors.
"Again" she repeated with the same calm intonation of voice.
Being able to take her shots showed how exceptional her daughter was too.
Antilene, that was her name, even though Nazaire and Cassius were the only ones to call her that.
Cassius, cardinal of the earth and her direct superior, had told her about the unhappy circumstances of her birth: it was the result of a physical violence that the king of the elves, once their ally, had perpetrated against Faine. Her ancestry explained why she had barely changed over the past 30 years as her mother and Nazaire grew older. A long-life span could have been considered a gift in many cases, but forced into grueling workouts and never being able to see sunlight felt more like a curse.
"That's enough." Exclaimed the long-haired warrior after throwing Antilene to the ground for the umpteenth time. "From tomorrow I will be on a mission, I expect to see some results when I return."
And with these words she left without even greeting her daughter or Nazaire.
The housekeeper sighed, now accustomed to the scene, and began with her work. She took the child on her shoulders and walked to one of the rooms that served as her apartment. It was not very big and the first time she saw it she marveled at how spartan it was: only a small bed, a poorly stocked kitchen, a shelf, that was periodically filled with provisions and potions, and a small table to eat, adorned the room. Her everyday clothes consisted only of a tailored suit of armor and a woolen shirt paired with dark trousers and a pair of good quality shoes. Adjacent to the room a bathroom had been set up for her personal needs.
Now the room had taken on a livelier aspect thanks to the gifts Nazaire had given her over the years: there was no longer a single ensemble but enough clothes to fill a small closet she had given her for her birthday.
She had also managed to get hold of some disused toys that had become the most precious treasures for little Antilene, in particular a soldier with long hair showed more signs of use than the others.
After treating her wounds, the older woman began to prepare dinner while the child took the opportunity to rest.
Whenever they dined together, the youngest asked all the questions she could put together about the outside world.
"Tell me Nazaire, is the story of the battle of Fort Quarto true? Did the goddess of fire Ragusa really burn alive 10,000 demihumans who had dared to try to devour her followers?"
"And how do you know? It doesn't seem to me that that was present in the material I gave you to study this week." Among her duties, Nazaire also had that of providing for her education; she knew that story, one of the most famous and gory concerning the goddess of fire, but she believed that the girl was still too young to know it.
"It was in the book that Uncle Cassius gave me the last time he came to see me. It's called "6 great stories about the 6 great gods" Antilene said with eyes full of enthusiasm. She loved stories about the great heroes of the past, especially those involving the patron deities of the Theocracy.
"Now I understand, well, if the cardinal thought it appropriate to give you this gift, who am I to contradict him? Let's see, according to tradition, the goddess Ragusa used such powerful magic that the flames did not go out for weeks. Even today many pilgrims go to the place where the battle is believed to have taken place."
"Wow that's incredible." She exclaimed in wonder. In a moment, however, her expression darkened. "Do you think one day I will be able to see it too? Maybe we could go me, you and mom."
"Of course, I don't see why not." Nazaire lied. Who knows maybe one day she would be able to convince the cardinals to let Antilene out into the outside world, but she strongly doubted that Faine would join them.
"In the book there was also another story that I liked a lot." the half-elf resumed, distracting her from her thoughts. "It spoke of Igarda, the goddess of water, and of the love she felt for her children. There were no great battles, no frightening monsters. Only the ways she spent time with her sons: the games they played, the dishes she prepared for them. They must have been very happy."
The caregiver immediately understood where she was going. Igarda and the immense love she felt for her offspring had become a point of reference for all the mothers of the nation. All but one.
"I know that mom has a lot to do, but why does she never find a moment for me? It is because I am weak and I cause her shame?" she asked with a dejected air.
Nazaire had heard that question countless times and, the gods forgive her, had never told her the truth.
"I'm sure it's not true; your mother is a very important and very busy woman. The whole nation stands on her shoulders, I'm sure it pains her a lot not being able to spend more time with you." She said trying to convince herself more than the girl.
"If you say so I believe you auntie."
Auntie, she didn't deserve that nickname, but what could she do? Antilene's life was already so hard, telling her that her mother saw her only as a tool wouldn't make things better.
She hated her weakness, she should have taken her away from that place, away from her crazy mother. But what then? The agents of the Theocracy would kill her immediately and bring the child back. And then they would make sure there was never an escape attempt again.
She couldn't help but try to bring some light into that situation.
"Rather since tomorrow it will be just you and me, why don't we cook something special? You could help me prepare those omelets you like so much."
"Really? Can we use those aromatic spices you used last time? Can we? They tasted sooo good." A smile returned to her face.
"Ahahahahah of course we can, but in truth I wanted to try a different recipe that was recommended to me by a friend of mine. Let's make a deal: if you promise to go to sleep early and to study all morning tomorrow, we will use both recipes. Double portion of omelets."
"Hurray, cheer. I promise I will be the most obedient child in the world. Thanks Aunt Nazaire." She said hugging her gently.
After they finished dinner, the two cleared the table, quickly cleaned the kitchen, and played together until it was time to go to sleep.
As promised, the half-elf went to bed immediately, exhausted from the day.
After making sure she was in the world of dreams, Nazaire turned off the lights and went to rest in the room she had been assigned.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
SIB99
SIB99 Hello everybody.
This is my first time trying creative writing, I hope my story is to your taste. English is not my first language so I hope there are not too many grammar and spelling errors. Any feedback is appreciated. Enjoy the reading.
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