Book Trailer
Heavy breaths permeated through his mouth as he gasped awake. Moments of his death still haunted his dreams.
Morning rays hit his face, his hand instinctively moving to block the glare.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the eyes. He stared at the door, "Might as well get to it."
Snatching his tattered cloak from the hanger, he latched it over his red shirt. (Think Clive from Final Fantasy XVI but with red gold hair)
With his daggers hanging behind his wais, he headed out.
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An ethereal figure floated in the skies, gazing at the massive tempest in front of him.
"It's time." He grinned, everything was going according to his plan.
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"Ah," he cracked open his eyes, his vulpine face stuck in a half grin, "they are all here aren't they?"
He jumped down from the stone pedestal he was laying on. He glanced behind him, and sighed when his eyes fell on the chained figure, "Too bad I can't use all my power."
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In Alacrya's Relictombs
The same ethereal figure watched over the unconscious effeminate boy, as he absorbed the mass of purple.
His eyes glinted, "Man am I glad I stole his essence."
The boy slumped back after he had absorbed all the aether. The image of a purple draconic face appeared behind him momentarily.
Purple light seeped out of his closed eyelids, but he didn't wake up.
The ghostly figure smiled deviously, before disappearing.
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"Who are you?" the red-gold haired man demanded, his hands inching closer to his daggers.
"Who're you?" the black-haired one shot back, his fingers twitched, black miasma crawling over his skin.
"I asked first," he deadpanned.
"..." he stared at him weirdly.
Taking advantage of this, he swiftly unsheathed his dagger and lunged on the man opposite to him.
A claw of black met the crimson coated dagger, and a surge of red fire and wispy darkness blanketed the field.
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"Over here, Reynolds!" an older Ezekiel barked. "I sense him closeby!"
Reynolds Leywin sprinted for all he was worth. He couldn't wait to see him again.
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"Let me tell you something Fayden," Erebus' somber tone caught his attention.
"The Marchosias…are the lesser of two evils." He looked up, zeroing in on a distant dot in the sky. "We may be the best of the Asuras, but we are no saints."
"I know, Noctis told me how they desecrated graves to learn about Realmheart."
"Oh that's far from the worst we've done, Fayden. It's far from it."
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"Is everyone here?" Claire asked Zach, who sealed the opening to their hideout.
"Yeah, but…you'd best see for yourself."
Claire raised an eyebrow as she entered the room.
"If we don't strike now, then when will we? The whole continent is in disarray, the remaining Lances are nowhere to be seen! We can't just sit back and watch!" Kara yelled across the table.
"Don't you think I know that?!" Owen bellowed back, "We have barely entered the white core stage, while veterans who had mastered their abilities were tossed around like ragdolls! We will die if we go there now. Trust me Kara, I'm as eager to fight as you are, but we can't go in blindly or we'll just get killed."
"Enough!" Claire announced her presence, "What are you, five?"
Silence ensued, which was only broken when their artifacts beeped.
"What…?" Zach muttered, looking at his axe.
Their weapons had adjusted, making space for a small screen in them.
"Wait?" Owen read it out aloud.
"But why?!" Kara exclaimed.
The text changed, "Until the return of the king."
Their eyes widened as it's implication became clearer.
"He's alive?"
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"So, you found me eh?" Two red slits glowed in the dark cave.
The red-haired man gulped, raising his lit arm and basking the room in light.
"What the-" his companion blurted out. "Why are you chained?"
He grinned widely, "Let's just say I opposed the 'gods' of this plane."
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"This…what is this?" The red haired man was awestruck by the place, his companion though not that much.
"This," the vulpine man grinned, "is how I keep an eye on the outside world. Feel free to use it if you want."
"What are the limits?" Fayden asked, maybe he could see how his family was doing.
"There's a bit of a delay," he admitted.
He narrowed his eyes, "What are we talking about, minutes? Hours?"
"Around fifteen minutes."
He nodded, "Not too bad."
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"Hey, it'll be fine. She'll be fine," the dagger-wielding boy tried to comfort him.
"I will," his voice shook, his head held low.
Silver runes glowed through his clothes, and his eyes glowed through his hair, "I'll massacre those so-called gods."