Two immortal souls travel by intrusion into the
Inner Meanders. Two fellow adventurers are a cubit away from the Vault of
Lamentations. Yuna, with a telepathic thought to her friend, breaks the mental silence: Dear friend, we will appear before
this egregore thousands of years old. Before their shriek tearing the soul has
finished with both of us, I propose an idea ...
A
Fomore! Do they think simultaneously.
Once again, right here, intangible and invisible in
stone, telepathy alone demonstrates the dynamic linking Ditratos and the fairy
Yuna.
In a single bound, they jump out by extrusion, in the
Vault of Lamentations. Here, spectres of the high elves are held captive
by Arachnéida’s necromancers. Known down
here as banshees, high elf warriors are more than lost souls. Long ago, killed
by Arachnéida’s soldiers, these noble fighters were the last swansong of a
civilization of light.
Here, the egregore of vengeance reign as king and
master. The mere sight of a dark elf or Arachne is enough to unleash the
collective cry that kills. But Yuna is quick as lightning. Aiming the base of
the rock wall, her magical light jets erupt on the surface of the walls. The
magical light winds along the interstices between the deformed stones and
suddenly the Fairy Magic recognizes itself in a heap of Ancestral Stones. The
Fomore is revived, nourished by forgotten memories, infused by the very magic
flowing through the Roche-aux-fées, hundreds of
leagues from here and yet sharing the same legends.
The underground sight is amazing. On the one hand a stone
giant reborn ... On the other side of the wide arch form itself a diaphanous
army of gray and threatening silhouettes. Ghostly for sure, but already these
damned souls come together in one cold breath from beyond the grave to emit their
plaintive moan. In the center, two small forms of life, a dark elf and a powerful
Arachne hovering at his side, are poor look to the amplitude of the meeting.
Ditratos faces the spectral mass invading the entire vault. His voice sounds serious:
Great
entities of the High Elves and Great Warriors of the golden age who have
written the history with your noble blood. Acknowledge today the Fomore witnessing
you under the suns and moons of Gaia. Free yourself from Foster-Mother, bearing
your illustrious race. Accept your supremacy over the dark elves, simple
off springs of your unique nobility. Shout your victory, now at your hand. Let your brother Fomore
guide your migration to the final battle against the Dark Elves and their queen
Arachnéida.
The name of the Black Widow echoes in the heavy silence
that occurs. Yuna lands on the shoulder
of his friend. In his ear, she whispered: That is my Ditratos loved it! The
kiss of the Arachne on the earlobe makes its way to the heart of the Mage. Wait,
little favorite fairy, spectres have not yet ...
A strange event cut the word of the magician. A
great ghostly wave knocks and enters the giant stone. Thousands of warrior souls realize a revenge fueled for
eons. The Fomore, fused with his old sisters, emerges from its telluric niche,
causing a slump stone loosened from the ceiling to create a debris cloud of
dust of rock. The sound of the avalanche rumbles along the Inner Meanders.
Silence resumed its place around the two silhouettes glued one on the other.
Yuna and Ditratos are in a strange comfort based on a rare friendship. Their
skin, ashy dust displays a gray texture giving to both a look of stone statues.
Deaf and distant echoes reflect titanic battles
where entire armies of Dark Elves are engulfed by Gaia’s giants: the fomores,
ancestors of dark elves and all creatures inhabiting Inner Meanders.
Finally, the Vault of Lamentation reveals its
silence to both friends. Yuna, comfortable in her Arachne’s body is lying
sideways on Ditratos’s shoulder, resting her naked torso along the neck of her
friend. Ditratos walks with light and agile steps. A state of grace and eternal
youth pass through all of his elven fibers. Being one in an ageless setting,
both immortals replenish themselves against one another for a moment of
eternity. Resting a little on a hilltop of amber crystals, the stream-lined black
face of the elf Ditratos fits ebony torso of his little companion. She lays her
cheek on the pointed ear lobe her old friend. She whispered: This is
fantastic! These crystals did formed along the ruins of the cities of the High
Elves. These cities were Sacred Magic Places of the First Ages ... When I was
so tiny!
In response, Ditratos smiles to her sweet Yuna,
hidden in the Arachne demonic body. Only a smile can meet a fairy rebel who
comes to overthrow the most formidable empire of Inner Meanders:
Dark Elves.
Distant explosions are echoing the end of a
civilization. Tell me, little favorite fairy? All the knowledge inhabiting us now,
born of the dawn of the elven races, of the genesis of thy fairy kingdom ...
Oh
yeah! Continue! She whispers.
So,
Fomores and the Roche-aux-fées… Adds Ditratos musingly.
They
recognized each other, says the little voice in his ear
... like
you and me! A kiss on the ear and the smile widens on the Dark Elf’s
face, in a silence that continues to converse with two immortal hearts. Slowly,
the two companions rise from the ground, levitating through the vertiginous
space of the Vault of Lamentations which will no longer be haunted by ghosts.
The rise of two bodies continue confidently toward the ceiling crystals. The
elven intrusion occurs. Bodies merge with Gaia, while the crystals sing the
passage of two heroes who write another page in the history of Inner Meanders.
Despite the intangible essence that consists of them in the solid strata of
Gaia, our friends share their ageless eternity toward the Moon and the Sun
waiting far away up there in the sky over a universe saved from a dark invasion.
Renatus, your chronicler of the multiverse ...
continued XIII!
Goodbye!
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