Chapter Text
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Darkness, interpreted as the absence of light, is harmless only to the most arrogant and rational minds. Obviously, not for the absence of danger, but for ignoring all its destructive potential. Reason, after all, should represent the illuminating of being, or that which makes us see emptiness not as a physical and naive nothing, but as a dangerous trap that leads to loneliness. Well, stronger than any physical pain is emotional torture. This, while healing, opens new points, like the eternal struggle of a soul that, even already broken, tries to be whole again. The dark, still, can be chronic, like a disease of the spirit that inhabits us without being noticed, until inevitably it is. That's why they say that where there is light, there is also darkness.
A ragged sigh escaped Red's sinuous lips, who was staring at his folded hands resting uncomfortably in her lap. Heavy handcuffs gripped his wrists painfully, but with appearances far out of proportion to his mission: to imprison a fragile-looking young girl. This was because they were made of a thick type of steel with rune engravings, which showed at each end of the heavy fixture. The girl thus stared at them for a long time, examining the bruised flesh where the metal cut into her skin, then finally lifting her chin. Her expression was strained. Her face, dirty and bruised, showed the abuse she had been through. In addition, there was the disconsolation, which came like anguish and loneliness, since there was no one who could or wanted to comfort her at that moment. Red found herself alone, cornered and cold. The dark didn't comfort her at all. She hated all of it – she hated the dark and she hated being alone.
As her body shook, Red groaned in discomfort, looking around but finding only metal, wood, and more of the hideous darkness. The place where she found herself was a literal cubicle, with no windows or bars that provided a view to the outside. The only way out was a massive, locked door, which shook along with the rest of the scene. Her cage, she imagined, was being moved by a carriage and a number of horses, as the neighing and monotonous clatter of hooves was audible, though muffled and distant.
Suddenly, human screams and screams began to echo through the external environment, indicating the beginning of some great commotion, and that perhaps the key figure had just arrived. With the carriage stopped, the door swung open as a hand wrapped in gleaming metal plates burst through the darkness, grabbing the handcuffed girl's arm and pulling her with mindless brutality. Red collapsed to the ground as her legs failed to support her, but she was quickly lifted by the same firm arms with dull intentions. Her eyes stung with the harsh light of the scorching sun, forced to blink to readjust the brightness. It wasn't until the vision cleared that she realized where she finally was; her heart skipped a beat, while her stomach took care of turning over. Her only luck that day, after all, was that she didn't eat at all, as she also did grudgingly for the rest of her last days. The reason for so much noise was a large crowd gathered at the ends of the road. Inhabitants from everywhere, both men and women, and even children, gathered within the limits where they were allowed, delimited by guards who were there not only doing their duty, but also participating in the protests in a vile and partial way.
In the center of that sea of people, a stone walkway stretched for yards, forming a circumference around a marble altar, adorned with pillars that rose several yards above. At the center of the building was a single pillar made of obsidian and, at its feet, pieces of firewood and other flammable materials, prepared for a great burning. The gorgeous appearance of the megalithic building could not mask the true nature of the Great Bonfire, used to end the lives of those who were unwanted by society and its autocrats. In the end, she symbolized nothing more than just death and contempt.
A hood covered the impugned princess's head – which was not, however, enough to hide her face of disbelief. Red knew this city like the back of her hand, being used to escaping the castle's activities to explore the variety of shops and buildings that her people proudly displayed. Unlike other people of the same caste, she had walked these streets countless times. Whether alone or accompanied by her guards in seasonal parades, the young princess won the trust and love of all the villagers with her kindness. Helping to make a difference – this was the motto she carried with her.
Red never imagined that the same people she'd put her life's efforts on would be the ones she was they laughed there, slandering obscenities and hoping for a painful death.
"Burn the traitor!" We will!
"Quick, kill that witch!" What are you waiting for?
- Bitch!
Some screamed and cursed, while a simple part remained silent, with faces of terror, disagreement and even pity. With the silence of reason, hatred reigned eloquently.
Her feet ached to walk, and the guards shamelessly pushed her to keep pace toward the altar. The Knights of the Realm, with their white horses and raised banners, followed close behind, as if they were part of some play or parade. Unfortunately, none of this was staged, and no one could stop what was happening. Soon, the princess was tied to the altar. From this height she could see a flashy carriage making its way through the crowd, pulling up to the footbridge. Its mobile base carried a beautiful sofa made of gold and encrusted with precious stones. The upholstery, burgundy, appeared to be of the finest, most expensive fabric. There, seated comfortably, were Your Majesties, the King and Queen. Red then stared at his parents one last time, and not even his almost faint expression was enough to make them feel the slightest pity.
Trapped in the obsidian pillar, Red watched as the unscrupulous guard who had snatched her from the cage approached again and pulled back her hood, finally exposing her face to the rapt audience of the slaughter. Her identity was unmistakable in any corner of the Kingdom. That blood-red hair, which lived up to her nickname, fluttered with the slightest will of the breeze, tickling her rosy cheeks. The dark gray blanket, which contained her hood, fell over her thin body, poorly hiding how battered Red was.
Despite all the bruises and dirt, the graceful princess's face was as beautiful as ever. Her fair skin, without wrinkles or expression lines, showed a perfectly symmetrical face, as well as her eyes, which were usually an angelic azure blue, but sometimes confused with a wild aqua green. Soft lips, as if designed by the most talented artist in Ryrias, or even the carved gods of Kil'be Cathedral themselves, warmly graced Red's delicate and quite feminine face. Not even the superficial wounds were enough to hide how beautiful the heiress could be.
Yes, she could.
She, like few others, had once been the symbol of hope for renewal, but now she was just another future pile of ashes, the amoral fruit of an enduring moral battle. Tears sprang to the redhead's eyes, unable to hold back the sadness welling up inside her soul. Her heart was beating fast and her hands were shaking in protest from exhaustion and all those agonizing emotions.
- SILENCE! A deep voice echoed loudly, instantly silencing the commotion. — Princess Red Lyonrith Gabel, for carrying and reading books with content offensive to God, in addition to performing the practice of witchcraft, detestable by our creator, behold, I declare: your punishment is death! she continued, addressing the populace like the classic hero of a Greek show.
The crowd awoke again in a frenzy, now hurling rotten food and stones in the direction of the court. The objects clattered against the wide wooden logs, but failed to reach it, much to the dismay of the guards who distributed the instruments of hatred.
“I offer you, however, a charitable chance to be forgiven by the Almighty. That way, if He allows it, your soul will be saved from the depths,” said the warrior, decked out in golden armor. “Then repent of your sins so that you can be saved and go to paradise.” He smiled confidently.
A silence now lasted for a few seconds, of those strangers, that no one knows when it will be broken. Long minutes seemed to have passed, while everyone waited apprehensively for what seemed to be an obvious decision.
- No! - With great difficulty, Red's voice timidly filled the room, taking everyone by surprise. "I don't regret anything I've done!" I would even do it again if I had to. I would do it as many times as needed! - He concluded with extreme force of will, trying to sound audible to everyone.
People, naturally, were astonished and began to whisper among themselves, while some looked on angrily and others in awe. Even before the Kingsguard Leader could intervene, she plucked up the courage to continue:
“We were born to use magic! We are linked to her, as are all creatures of this Realm, don't you understand? she asked, even though she knew the answer wouldn't come. “We were given the ability to tame them. We and they are one, so we must take care of them! To deny this is to deny our very existence… our very nature. It's like signing a death warrant ! he continued in front of the perplexed gazes of his listeners. “See, there was once magic everywhere and we were so alive and…” An echoing laugh cut through the downcast princess' words, causing her to look in the direction of where the royal family sat.
The laughter came from a man who wore golden robes and stood beside the King and Queen, looking like a priest.
"You who don't understand anything, you fool!" The magic you and your filthy hands use is a poison that does nothing but foul our souls. Using magic is allowing to corrupt God's creation. Those who use and defend it are servants of the deep, like you, who deserve to go back to where they came from. He gestured toward the fire.
"Wrong, magic is not poison," he pointed out. “She has always been and always will be a part of our essence!
— SHUT UP! she snapped. “Magic doomed us…and brought hell to us!” Her voice tensed and rose in agreement.
— Hell only set in when we started to deny our past. Red intervened and shook out his manacled hands, as if he wanted to free himself, but the steel and runes did not do his bidding.
“Digress as much as you like, witch. We won't be fooled by your gibberish or hellish charms. The man's upraised finger changed direction, signaling a silver-clad soldier. “Burn it,” he finished.
The designated man, with a lit torch in hand, approached the base of the Great Bonfire, just awaiting the final order of its leader, the golden knight, who symbolically raised his sword to the heavens. Everyone watched as a filament of sunlight reflected off the dark metal of his blade, highlighting Red's face with its diffused reflection. For the humble populace, this was the long-awaited Divine Judgment.
“Please listen to me! — The princess, even with her prophesied fate, spoke again. “Magic is not a bad thing, and I know there is still hope in each of you. Think of how whole, happy and prosperous we used to be. We can do it again, it's not too late!— This time, the girl did not address her words to her stoic parents, but to the poor villagers indoctrinated by them to condemn and forget their past.
- He's right! Witchcraft has turned our lives into hell!
"Magic is the damnation of our souls!"
— Filthy Venust!
Even with tears wiping her face, Red couldn't help but smile at the mention of the term Venuste. A story, then, was rekindled in his immaculate memory, in the form of a tale that circulated, for generations, through distant kingdoms and fantastic forests.
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In a land lost by time, beyond the reach of the eye and the dream of the mind, three guardians have arisen. Velka, Docke, and Gordor were known as Venustes, or Beast Charmers. Wherever they went, legendary creatures, destroyers of entire kingdoms, suffered their influences. Even the mighty race of dragons that once ruled the skies bowed in respect to the Triple Garrison. Then the times of darkness ceased – there being no more hunger, fear, poverty or disease.
With their kindness and protective instinct, they offered the suffering human race their own abilities so they could end the long-lasting war on monsters. The Venustes then proliferated among humans, rising as a new race and representing the hope of a peaceful world.
That time had ended as soon as Accipitres, a realm with different dogmas, came to consider any practice of magic as witchcraft, or an offense to the Gods. His armies destroyed villages, farms, castles and everything that was the work of blasphemy. Venustes and other arcane practitioners were burned in great ceremonial bonfires. All the beasts, which now lived together in harmony, either suffered genocide or were exiled on some scale. An instinct of revolt was generated in these creatures, who would one day return to finish what they started long ago.
The guardians, who now looked down on the human race with sadness, were never seen again, leaving their skills and teachings as a legacy. Unfortunately, most of the books of this period met the same fate as their bearers and preachers: the bonfire. Some people, however, have instituted secret routes in order to spread and hide some of these specimens. They believed that a Venustic insurrection, brought about by a great leader, would one day come to save them. After all, one of the last things left by the Triple Garrison was a virtuous prophecy:
“Rejected by all, the last Venuste will rise,
And before his glory, all creatures will bow.
After the darkness, the light of a new world will arise,
For it is declared, the times of the beasts will return.”
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Trembling, the princess stared at the crowd that was in a physical and mental enclosure. What pained him was not the imminence of death, but the thought of his failure as a protector. That's when, in the midst of the turbulent thoughts that revisited his trajectory so far, Red swore he heard an inopportune whistle sound, muffled and soon forgotten by the shouting.
The torch was thrown against the wood and dry straw of the fire, which were easily engulfed by the flames – the golden knight had lowered his sword, symbolizing the reaping of a soul. The fire swelled, and the princess cringed as she acted out the theater of horrors. By then, the flames had reached her feet.
Once again, the sound of a whistle filled Red's ears. This time, she faced the crowd, squinting as if she was trying to see through people. Then, suddenly, the shiver of an icy breeze. Her hairs stood up instinctively as she was compelled to look up. All, indeed, were now beholding the same point in the heavens; the princess no longer acted alone. White clouds spiraled at an unnatural speed as they merged to a sickly gray hue as the entire sky was engulfed by the rapidly expanding phenomenon. The eye of the storm was just above the altar. Lightning and thunder filled the sky with the fury of the true Gods, hitting the ground like battle cries. The shock waves toppled roofs and destroyed homes. Part of the population dispersed in despair, while the other was paralyzed with fear.
— See? This is proof that she really is a witch! The man in the golden robes was screaming, but he was no longer heard.
The storm only grew more violent, until a low, bestial roar reverberated through the skies, louder than any thunder, shaking the earth and all the souls present. Wings could be heard as the beast's shadow blackened on the wall of clouds, soon crossing it and revealing itself. From above, the sapphire blue Wyvern could see all the doom of that species, diving from the skies towards its only salvation. Guards panicked and shouted confused firing orders. The Royal Family was escorted away while the rest of the army mobilized. When they finally arrived at the battleground, both the monster and the princess were gone - only their tracks remained etched in the already dissipating clouds.
- What was this?! the Queen wondered, as her carriage was driven by equally confused guards.
"A bad omen, my Queen," said the one who hid, under his pompous golden garments, the true image of the corrupted man.
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The princess widened her eyes when she saw those paws come towards her. With her eyes closed, she just waited for the fatal slash of the claws. But when nothing came, she plucked up the courage to open them one last time. A scream, then, escaped the back of her throat, as she realized she was suspended in the air by her paws with enough force to turn her into a puree. She saw the town grow smaller as the Wyvern moved away towards the nearby forest, with a gentle slope to the west. Red braced with difficulty, hands still cuffed on his paw, looking up and watching the fanciful creature more closely.
"Magnificent," she thought aloud, taking in the beauty of those scales, not really believing her eyes. "And blue..." continued the description; the deep, gleaming sapphire blue engulfed her vision in full splendor.
A northwesterly wind slammed against her face, making it hard to breathe and keep her eyes open. She, however, would have closed them if something else hadn't caught her attention. There were leather straps around the beast's belly and chest, and from the way they led to its back, they formed some sort of saddle. As soon as the princess leaned far enough into that dangerous mode of transport, she swore she saw someone riding the seat.
From then on, the events went on for more than an hour. Red tried hard to get the stranger's attention on top of the winged reptile, but her words were swept away and silenced by the gale. Passing through vast fields and entire mountain ranges, the princess realized that they were losing a lot of altitude. A short time later and they were so close to the ground that their feet caressed the top of the tallest vegetation. Without warning, the Wyvern opened its claws and Red fell, rolling a few feet to a stop in a bush.
“Uh, what?! She grunted and groaned in pain, sitting up and looking confused at the large creature perched ahead.
The beast's wild eyes fixed on the princess, and she found herself small in the reflection of those golden orbs of sharp slits, which did not judge her. Yes, that was the look of acceptance. Red found herself lost, and stared at him without turning away. So, she held the creature's deep breath, which entered into an odd consonance with hers, as if trying to calm her. her concerns they slowly went away with each exhale, one at a time.
The lull, however, was short-lived: a heavy impact caught the attention of the kidnapped heiress. Still seated, she tried to drag her body backwards as quickly as possible, when she saw a figure close to the reptile, no longer mounted in the saddle. From that angle, Red was able to notice the most striking features of the raptor: starting with the black obsidian armor, which covered its entire face, along with the helmet portrayed as a stylized skull. On his hip was a belt, which contained three scabbards that held daggers and a purple-bladed sword.
Besides the belt there were… curves?
It was only then that Red noticed, but she looked at the bust just in case. This was not a kidnapper, but a kidnapper. Well, to be specific, a woman nearly six feet tall. It made her saliva clog in her throat, along with tons of doubts that permeated her already confused enough mind. What would that person's true intentions be?
A deep, almost masculine voice came from the lips of the mysterious Wyvern Tamer:
"Princess, it's almost a displeasure to meet you in person," she said as she took hold of the base of her own helmet, then removed it.
Her black hair fell over her shoulders, revealing metallic accessories that graced and held back some unruly strands. Against the sun, his tanned skin gleamed like copper, reflecting the wild delicacy of that singular appearance. Dark-colored makeup pigmented her eyelids, but another feature was even more striking: the black veins that radiated from her eyes to her cheekbones.
Red noticed that last detail and shivered.
"Magic..." she broke off in disbelief. “Corrupted,” she finished.
The kidnapper soon flashed a toothy smile.
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To be continued...