Kynareth

The Fortress of Ends stands proud and unassailable now, but it was not always so. If one were to peel back the layers of ice that encase it, they would see signs of long-ago conflicts, battles fought in the distant past.

One great battle was fought centuries ago, before the Gaolers were forgotten. In those days, the Shade still raged strongly upon the land, infecting and mutating various creatures and pitting them against the gods. In the Southern Icefield, these monsters formed an army hundreds strong, and they besieged the Fortress.

The Ice warriors rallied to defend the Fortress—and among them was Kynareth, a mighty Imperial. Although she was young, she had already distinguished herself as a great warrior, a hunter of foul beasts and malevolent dragons. Her arrival at the Fortress was greeted with relief, for she had also brought her brother, Baltasar, himself a warrior of great renown.

The two siblings distinguished themselves in the battles that followed. Whether singly or side by side, they fought courageously, slaying scores of the Shade-touched creatures, and saving countless lives among dragonkind. The final battle, at the foot of the Fortress, was also the most terrible: The Shade-touched army attacked with vigor, slaughtering countless dragons and coming dangerously close to breaking through the Fortress’ defenses. Kynareth was separated from her brother, and in the end, when the Shade army had been routed, she returned to the battlefield—not to hunt down stragglers, as other warriors were doing, but to find Baltasar.

Her heart froze when she saw him lying amidst the corpses and wreckage. He was pale, and so very still....

But at the sound of her footsteps, his eyelids fluttered. Feebly, he let out a cry.

He was alive! Kynareth ran to him, and in between sobs of relief, she lifted him to his feet. “We can go home now, brother. The battle is over. It’s over and we’ve won....”

She was right, in a way. This battle was over...but another one would soon begin.

~ ~ ~
The changes were subtle at first. Baltasar became short-tempered and irascible, and it was easy to attribute this to the discomfort of his injuries. They seemed badly infected, and they took a long time to heal. He and Kynareth found lodgings near the Fortress of Ends; the local clans, still elated from their victory over the Shade army, were glad to accommodate them.

But though Baltasar’s body healed, his spirit continued deteriorating. He became hostile to other dragons, acting irrationally and violently. Kynareth attempted to calm him, but he turned on her, going in a split-second from furious to crazed. He struck her, drawing blood, and as Kynareth recoiled, she saw that his eyes, once as pure as a glacier, had gone completely black.

Horrified, Kynareth recalled seeing him on the battlefield. She’d thought he was dead....The gashes on his body had wept blood so dark it was almost oil-black. And perhaps...perhaps it had been. Perhaps her brother had in fact fallen to the Shade, in more ways than one....

In that moment of fear and hesitation, Baltasar escaped. He launched himself into the air, vanishing into the wintry night. Kynareth was about to call out his name, but cold dread stayed her: dread that he would no longer respond, that he was no longer her brother.

“No,” she thought furiously. “He’s still Baltasar; he has to be!”

Without hesitation, she headed for the Fortress of Ends. She and Baltasar had fought alongside the Icewarden’s divine forces, and surely they would be willing to aid the siblings. She had already seen countless dragons fall to the Shade, and she would not allow her brother to become one of them.

~ ~ ~
The trail was easy to follow, almost distressingly so. Baltasar was now completely dominated by the Shade, and he attacked any creature, dragon or not, that he encountered. Many of these perished, hacked apart by his terrible claws. Others survived, only to become similarly corrupted.

While tracking down Baltasar, Kynareth had come across several of these creatures and been forced to slay them. It helped that she was not alone: The Icewarden had granted her permission to go after her brother; armed with this reassurance, Kynareth had then entered Dripcave Dregs and sought the Gaolers’ aid. They were skilled in capturing and imprisoning monsters and dragons. If there was anyone who could capture Baltasar alive, it was them.

“Wiglaf, take two Seekers. Roam three leagues ahead and report back to me at sundown,” Mahlah, the leader of the Gaolers, ordered. She watched her cohorts go, murmuring, “Mayhap we’ll find him soon and our pursuit will at last be over.”

Kynareth agreed. She and the Gaolers had been on the go for days, following Baltasar’s trail. It had been disheartening to see the terror and destruction he’d wrought; having the Gaolers around, even if they were closed-mouthed and standoffish, made her feel less alone. “Thank you for being here,” she said to Mahlah.

The old Gaoler’s eyes brightened. “Of course, child. We’re only doing our duty.” She looked ahead again, sniffed the air. “We are approaching Reclaimer’s Glacier. It will be a perilous crossing, and we should be wary.”

Kynareth nodded somberly. She had flown over the glacier many times before. It was a treacherous place, terrifying in its vastness and emptiness....

But as it turned out, the glacier wasn’t empty. A day later, Kynareth and the Gaolers crested the horizon, and instead of a largely flat plain, they saw huge cracks and slabs of ice heaved up from the ground and then frozen into enormous spikes. It was as if a meteor had smashed into the ice and the gigantic shards had been instantly frozen in place. They formed enormous canyons and valleys, deep enough to swallow the Gaolers—or a Shade-possessed Imperial.

Mahlah quickly began issuing commands to the Gaolers, and they broke into groups and vanished into the canyons. She stayed beside Kynareth as they began moving through the warper glacier, alert for any signs of Baltasar.

He soon made his presence known. Ice towers exploded into deadly spikes as Baltasar burst through, roaring angrily. Shade ichor streamed from his mouth, and his dark eyes burned with hate as he raced towards his sister.

Kynareth charged forward to meet him. Behind her, Mahlah bellowed, “Go, Gaolers! Remember your duty!” The Imperial smiled—the battle to save her brother would be hard, but with the Gaolers, she didn’t doubt that he would soon be free.

With the Shade coursing through him, Baltasar was a terrible foe. Each blow that connected with his body smote Kynareth’s heart as well, but she fought grimly on. Once Baltasar was healed, he would understand. They would fight alongside each other again....

Finally, Baltasar crashed down and lay unmoving. Only his chest rose and fell—he was still alive, but only barely. “This is it!” Kynareth gasped. “Mahlah, help me—”

But at a signal from Mahlah, the Gaolers blasted Baltasar with ice. Spurred to wakefulness, the corrupted Imperial thrashed around, trying to break free. More Gaolers poured their magic onto him—fighting not to tire him now, but to hurt him. To kill him.

“No!” Kynareth screamed in horror as she realized what was going on. “Gaolers, stop!”

“Stay yourself, Kynareth. This no longer concerns you.” Mahlah kept her gaze on the struggling Baltasar. Her eyes, previously kind and grandmotherly, had become as cold as steel.

With a roar, Kynareth called upon her magic. Ice shards leaped into the air, forming into gigantic blades, which she hurled towards the Gaolers. They flew true; there were so many of them that the Gaolers would not be able to safely dodge.

But the Gaolers did not falter in their spellcasting, and Mahlah didn’t even blink—and then the ice blades dissolved into powder snow, blinding in its brightness. Kynareth was blown backwards into a deep snowdrift.

Her eyes opened. She briefly thought hours had passed and night had descended. But no—it had only been a few seconds, and the deep darkness around her was not nightfall, but a much colder shadow. Her heart quaked within her as she looked up and saw the Icewarden glaring down upon the battlefield.

“The Gaolers are acting upon my orders, child,” the deity stated quietly, his gaze piercing Kynareth. “You are forbidden from interfering.”

The Gaolers continued their fearsome work, weaving bands of ice that would crush the life out of Baltasar. As Kynareth watched him struggle, a snarl spread across her face.

“Forbidden?” she gasped, rising to her feet. “I pleaded for aid from you! You told me I could go save my brother. You promised!”

And, filled with righteous rage, she launched herself towards her god. She knew she would not even be able to wound him, but her fury and grief knew no bounds, and she needed to unleash it....

The Icewarden’s roar shook the whole glacier, reducing the rest of the ice spikes to dust. Kynareth found herself frozen in place, ice tightly shackling her feet. Try though she might, she couldn’t move.

“You witnessed the destruction wrought by this beast on your journey here,” the Icewarden thundered. “This monster is no longer your brother. He has become irrevocably bound to the Shade, and he must be eliminated!”

“What shall we do with the beast now, Icewarden?” Mahlah asked. Kynareth looked pleadingly towards her, but the Gaoler didn’t even glance in her direction.

And so Kynareth appealed to the god again: “Please, Baltasar is the only family I have left....Place him in my care. I will ensure he no longer harms anyone or anything ever again!”

“You would gainsay my orders, Kynareth? This foul beast deserves none of your sympathy!”

Kynareth’s eyes blazed. “I made it clear that I did not want him slain, that I wanted to attempt to restore him. How dare you deceive me—I, who risked my life countless times to protect your Fortress, your people, against the Shade!”

The Gaolers didn’t speak, but Kynareth caught the faintest quiver of doubt rippling through them. The Icewarden’s expression remained unchanged, but he did not reply.

In the frigid silence, Kynareth growled, “Release Baltasar into my custody, Icewarden.”

“You will not speak his name again, child. In acknowledgment of the services you and he have performed, his life will be spared. But his imprisonment shall be eternal.”

The Icewarden’s eyes flashed, and all the dragons shielded their eyes as aurora lights danced over the glacier. Another gust of wind swept the land, and when the snow settled again, both the Icewarden and Baltasar were gone.

~ ~ ~
Kynareth left the Southern Icefield after her brother’s imprisonment. She headed to other lands, found new clans to settle in. The years of her wandering were long, and within that time, she made new memories of brightness and joy, finding friends in other Flights, settling down and starting families. Her skill in the arts of combat and magic only grew as the centuries passed, and she became a famous warrior, respected and feared by many.

Her grief at losing her brother faded away. But she could never forgive the Icewarden for his deceit, and she vowed never to return to the Southern Icefield and serve him.

The rest of the world moved on. Clan rose and fell; many new factions came to power. Two of these were the Umbra Witches and Lumen Sages—servants of the Shadowbinder and the Lightweaver, respectively. For years, they had fought bitterly, uniting only against the great Emperor, Jubileus. After the Emperor was slain, the rest of Sornieth waited to see if they would go back to warring...and breathed a collective sigh of relief when they forged an alliance instead.

The alliance endured for many years before being abruptly broken—due, it was said, to the treachery of an Umbra Witch and a Lumen Sage. The two orders now fought to exterminate one another, and the rest of Sornieth watched in horror. Kynareth herself had to aid old friends from other Flights as the fighting spilled over the borders. The Witches and Sages didn’t care about collateral damage, and the rest of the gods grew angered as the war devastated their own lands and their children.

When the Sages were extirpated and the Witches emerged victorious, Kynareth kept her ears alert. Surely the warring would end now. Surely they would have peace again....

It was not to be. The gods, angry at the destruction of their own lands, united against the Witches. Their goal was not to punish, but to destroy—to erase the Umbra Witches from Sornieth.

“This is wrong,” Kynareth found herself thinking as, day by day, news of more fighting, more Witches slain, arrived at her clan. “They have committed many crimes, but this...this is a massacre...”

Many dragons also felt the same way, and Kynareth knew she had to be like them, to lend aid to those who now just wanted to live in safety. Her current clan would not support her; she would have to work on her own.

But then, she was Kynareth, who had challenged the Icewarden and lived to tell the tale. She could do it. And, she now realized, there was only one place she could go to aid the Witches. The one place where nobody would expect to find her, for she’d shunned it for centuries: the Southern Icefield.

~ ~ ~
When Kynareth returned to the Southern Icefield, she called up her great magic, constructed a fortress for herself. Some of her allies had agreed to aid her, and together, they spent many years sheltering and assisting the Umbra Witches who came in search of refuge.

Helping others from the shadows was not a task that came easily to Kynareth. Until now, she had spent most of her life fighting out in the open, colors boldly flying and skills proudly on display. But here, it became necessary to conceal much about herself and her clan. The Icewarden was one of the nine gods arrayed against the Umbra Witches, and here, he had spies everywhere.

Still, Kynareth’s work saw success, as many Umbra Witches were dispersed among friendly clans and spirited to safety in the Southern Icefield. Perhaps the order would never rise again, but they could start families, raise children in peace—as Kynareth herself had done.

Inevitably, however, Kynareth’s bastion was discovered, and the Icewarden set his forces against them. Kynareth and her allies vowed to hold the bastion until their last breaths, so that the Witches under their care could flee to safety. The walls were soon torn down, and the battle raged unchecked through the territory Kynareth had built. Kynareth herself was soon swarmed under, buried beneath an avalanche of ice. Her last thought, before everything went black, was, “Have I done well?”

Many dragons, seeing her prowess in battle, would have argued that she had, but Kynareth had reason to doubt this. She’d spent her whole life in battle but had found no true satisfaction from it: the deity she’d fought for had deceived her and imprisoned her brother; the Witches had won their war and were now being destroyed for it. No, battle had not brought her glory....But being able to defy the gods, in the name of compassion and kindness and empathy—that brought a warmth to Kynareth’s heart that even the coldest frost could not quench.

Indeed, the avalanche did not kill her; it only put her to sleep. When she awoke days, perhaps weeks, later, her fortress was completely destroyed, and the battle had been lost. Kynareth searched for other survivors, but there were none, and her roar of grief rang out over the Icefield.

The Witches had, to all intents and purposes, been extinguished. Many of Kynareth’s old allies had perished, too. Once again, the old Imperial found herself adrift, wandering the world in search of peace and a home. As she’d done before, she traveled from clan to clan, made friends, and raised families. But there remained a hollowness in her—though battle had not brought her glory, she was still very much a fighter, and a fighter always needs something to fight for.

She’d briefly found that by fighting to save the Umbra Witches, but they were all gone now....Or were they?

One day, word reached Kynareth’s disbelieving ears: of Light and Shadow dragons, working together in an empire in the Sunbeam Ruins. They called themselves the Lumen Sages and Umbra Witches, not after the ancient orders—they were the ancient orders, risen anew from survivors of those long-ago wars, determined to make their way through the turbulent new world.

Curious, Kynareth traveled to this clan: the Sectonian Empire. The guards welcomed her through the veil, and she soared through and beheld the prosperous city and its guardian tree.

“A good place,” she murmured to herself, savoring the words—even if the rumors were unfounded, it seemed like a pleasant place to live. Perhaps she would familiarize herself with it, get to know its inhabitants better...

“I am pleased that you find it so,” a quiet voice answered, and a small, bright Mirror glided round from the side. Her gleaming cloak trailed behind her, and she regarded Kynareth with calm eyes.

“The rumors that brought you here are true. Some of the ancient orders survived, and they call this place their home now.”

Kynareth’s brow furrowed. “May I know with whom I am speaking?”

“Indeed, and I hope we shall come to understand one another better in the days to come. I am Mirage, Empress of this land—and you are welcome here, Kynareth.”

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
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