Virion was floating in a black void. He looked around frantically, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Nothing happened. A deep, crawling sense of foreboding overtook him, and his senses began to scream. He reached for his sword as an overwhelming fear grasped hold of him. His breathing became restricted as adrenaline rushed through his body. Something big was coming.
'Yesss...', a deep, powerful voice resounded around Virion.
The darkness seemed to shift ever so slightly as the void rumbled. The deep voice rattled Virion to the bone, taking root in the pit of his stomach. A cold prickly feeling washed over him as he shakily pulled out his sword. He was trembling from head to toe. He had never felt this way before. This feeling of complete hopelessness and fear.
'So much anger... You impress me, Virion Salor.'
Virion stared around him. Everything was pitch black. He could not find the source of the voice. His sword felt unnatural in his grip and threatened to slide out of his sweating palm. He clasped his left hand onto the sword and held it straight waiting for the enemy to appear. But he could sense the enemy all around him. He looked left, right, and behind him frantically, his senses honed by his years of sword training screaming that this was not a battle he could win.
'But you lack... Decisiveness...', the deep voice rumbled as the darkness seemed to shift once more. Virion could almost start to make out a shape in the blackness. A large curve that seemed to extend from infinity to infinity.
‘Wh-who's there?! Show yourself!', shouted Virion into the void.
The voice began to laugh. A deep, unpleasant cackle that shook Virion to the bone. Virion's sword slipped from his grasp as he began to lose consciousness. The void seemed to light up for a moment and Virion could see before him what looked like a giant eye. Then everything faded into blackness once again...
*****
Virion snapped awake. He sat up and stared around. He was sitting on a hospital bed in a large rectangular room that had several beds placed in rows - the general ward. Daylight shone sharply through the many windows on the walls and a strong ocean breeze flowed in, setting some of the window curtains aflutter. He looked down to see that his arms were bandaged.
To his left, occupying another bed, was the perabel girl who was running from warlocks earlier. She had his sword in her lap and was staring at it in wonder. Her face, arms, and legs were bandaged. Her short brown hair was disheveled and unkempt. Now that the grime was cleaned off of her, Virion realized that she looked vaguely familiar.
'That's not yours you know.', Virion said. She looked up at him then back at the sword.
'My bad', she jerked and flung the sword at him. Virion lurched forward and caught it by the hilt before it struck his foot.
'Hey! That's dangerous!'
She giggled. 'Sorry'
Virion picked up his scabbard and carefully sheathed his sword.
'You're an elf, aren't you?', she asked him.
'Yes... Virion Salor.', he held out a hand in greeting.
'Hawlen Molot', she gestured to her bandaged arms with her head. Virion lowered his arm. She wouldn't be shaking hands any time soon.
‘Your sword... zestril make, isn't it?'
'Yes...', Virion replied exasperatedly.
'I've heard that the metal is exceedingly rare, has a natural resistance to magic, and doesn't bend easily.'
'I suppose...', Virion sat up straight and stared at his palms. The feeling of unease had not left him completely from his dream of the void and the booming voice. This was the second vision in the same morning as his mother's death. It was no longer beyond reason to assume that this was no mere coincidence.
'Are you trying to tell me something, mother?'
Virion shuddered as he remembered the pressure in the void. The voice in his first vision had told him to become stronger. He knew how weak he was, but he had never felt as hopeless before an enemy as he had in that void. Virion let his hands fall into his lap and let out a deep sigh of exhaustion.
'Are you royalty?', Hawlen asked. Virion did not hear her question, lost in his thoughts.
'Ho! Mr. Salor!!', Hawlen kicked her sheets at him. Virion shook them off angrily as he was forcibly snapped back to reality.
'What...?'
'I asked if you were royalty, you grouch!', said Hawlen in indignation.
'You're awfully talkative for someone who lost their village', Virion muttered as he picked up Hawlen's sheets off the ground.
'What makes you say that?!'
'You're a war survivor, aren't you?', Virion said matter of factly, turning towards Hawlen and moving to sit at the edge of his mattress. He held her sheets out to her with one hand and grabbed his scabbard with the other.
'I'm surprised by your cheerfulness.'
'My only family is here, in the stronghold for your kind information.', Hawlen said irritatedly as she snatched her sheets from Virion's hand with her legs. Virion paused in surprise.
'Then what were you doing outside the stronghold?!'
'I left before the invasion started. To elf territory. Specifically, the ruins at Kolbidt', Hawlen muttered as she struggled to spread the blanket with her feet.
Virion's eyes widened as he stared at her in shock.
'You've been in Kolbidt for the last two months?! How are you alive?!'
Kolbidt forest was home to several beasts that were tamed by warlocks. Two months prior, at the start of the invasion, the warlocks commandeered the drakes, gremlins, and horngills from the forest and used them to invade nearby elf towns. Without the help of the beasts, the warlocks never would've defeated the elves in open battle.
Surviving in Kolbidt forest for two months during the invasion meant escaping from one of the most dangerous forests in the continent during a war in which the extremely powerful beasts of the forest were moving in organization with the armed forces of the warlocks, who sought to exterminate every elf and perabel in their path.
'Wits, reflex and lots of luck', she said happily as she continued to struggle with the blanket, trying to cover herself with it using only her legs.
Virion stared at her in confusion, his mouth agape.
'That's not an answer.'
'It's what you get. Now answer my question!'
Virion sat back defeatedly. He was not in the mood for a lengthy discussion with the perabel girl. He looked over at her. Despite her several bandages and injuries, she seemed almost bursting with energy. Her single visible golden eye shone in the light filtering through the nearby window. Despite her antics, she had an air of power around her. Virion had a feeling that if they were to duel, he may not come out unscathed. Suddenly, it did not seem so improbable that this perabel had escaped the terrors of Kolbidt forest.
He took a deep breath. 'What was your question?'
'I asked if you were royalty... I figured you must be what with your zestril sword and all. Besides your last name... Salor was it?', she looked at him expectantly.
'Yes...'
'Sounds awfully familiar... So?', she spoke extremely quickly, almost visibly trembling in excitement. Virion wondered how someone who must have had several near-death experiences in the past two months could be so carefree.
'If by royalty you mean that I am the son of the queen then yes... My mother is-', Virion stopped short, his chest beset with a sudden pang of guilt and sorrow. He took a deep breath to clear his mind and looked down at his hands.
'What? What's wrong?', asked Hawlen, a strand of worry visible in her expression.
'Nothing... My mother was queen Zaleria Salor.', he muttered.
Hawlen's face lit up. She tried to stand but winced in pain. She resigned to sitting on the edge of her bed, as close to Virion as possible, kicking down the sheets she had been trying so hard to drape over herself.
'Incredible!! You're the prince then!'
Virion sighed exasperatedly.
'Hereditary monarchy was abolished by my grandfather. My mother just happened to be the most suited to rule.'
'Oh yes I had read about that!', Hawlen was practically bouncing up and down.
'He held a test, didn't he? And your mother was the victor! I'm sure many thought she was the product of nepotism!'
Virion winced. His mother had received her fair share of doubts and complaints. Genuinely concerned folk and sore losers alike banded together in protest against her rule. His grandfather, Lord Varius Salor, was meant to be the last monarch who inherited the kingdom. Lord Varius had pioneered a test for worth which any among the elves were free to participate in. It took the form of a multistage competition from which a single victor would emerge, a victor deemed worthy to lead the elf kingdom.
However, Virion's mother and Lord Varius' daughter Zaleria Salor had been the victor in the first edition of this test. Naturally, there was protest as many assumed Lord Varius had helped her win or had given her favor in some manner. But to Virion, it was to be expected that she would emerge victorious. Zaleria Salor was dignified, honorable, compassionate and the most powerful user of magic he had ever seen. Until the warlock general defeated her in battle...
'I wish I could meet her...', Hawlen said wistfully.
Virion's face fell as memories of his time in the elf capital Vailoth rushed into his mind. He recalled the fierce magic battle between his mother and the warlock general. A battle that had raged on for hours, razing the surrounding landscape and leveling buildings. Many elves and warlocks alike were caught up as collateral damage in the incredible clash between the masters of magic.
Virion looked over at Hawlen. The young perabel had a hopeful look on her face, which dissipated as she saw the expression Virion wore. His heart felt heavy as he stood, fixing his scabbard to his belt and arranging the sheets on his hospital bed.
'You just missed her. She died this morning.', he said solemnly.
He walked past a shocked Hawlen towards the door. His sorrow turned to a spike of anger as he reached the door. He would get his vengeance against that general and he would not allow what had happened to him to happen to the perabels in the stronghold. He angrily swung open the door and left the hospital, his impatience peaking, and his resolve firm.
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