FENRER

Molvasolevu... Molvasolevu...

Pyren.

Palpable recognition within the eye of a crimson beholder. As he stood among the serrated thoughts of ancient promises, the feathered creature took a breath through the veil of pitch; a scream of a single bloodline. It dripped down the teeth in bloody ooze, but when he tried to drive the wedge further between minds, Kon's shape burst out of the river and fractured the control around his fingers. Why did you stop me back then, Kon? He followed behind the second patrol, keeping his senses stretched. Auras created the myriad of the flow, with the silver lilybells swallowing all. I was close to something — hearing the message. It called out to me.

"You had done enough," Kon replied on the bridge of spirits. "Had I allowed you to continue, there was too much of a chance for your soul to be unbalanced."

But how did it recognize me?

Kon went silent once more at his one, continuous question since they had left Irimount initially. Why will you not tell me? Fenrer stopped beside the sheer rise of the mountain cradle. Magick pulsed along a firm, sharp flow of multiple connections. Each one blipped with power when he pushed his magick through it. Runic circuitry built within the smallest of crevices. Fenrer followed the trace straight to the pillars dug between the peaks. If you cannot tell me, just say. He dug his thumb into his runic expander to energize it when the crimson pulse intensified underneath the layers of permafrost. Downwards, it moaned and hummed in a daze. Scales shivered against the stale wind, and the beautiful flow curdled and bubbled the closer it came to the source of tar. He let the patrols handle any wayward draugr, who gave no indication of fighting back against their release, to focus on the ripple in the air. This place looks different now that my vision is clearer... Fenrer took off his glove to brush his fingers up the lamppost. Oddly, it followed a different circuit than the ones which lined the cradle —a different, inactive source.

Fenrer studied the lines digging underneath a closer layer of permafrost. He caught up to the patrol with ease, though whenever they disappeared into broken buildings, he took his time to examine any fracture within the magitek circuitry cleverly hidden in the rock, where they all gathered into a stronger runic bind up yet another pillar tucked between the cradle formation. He scrunched his nose at the unholy waft from the nearby Spire, where the hum intensified in his ears. Kon?

"I'm sorry, Little Wolf, that I cannot give you the answer you crave."

No... it's not that. Fenrer turned around in place as he rubbed his hands for extra warmth. Mist streamed through his lips when he tasted the old decay on the air. What's that music?

"What music?"

Fenrer brushed a circle on his temple, then tried to focus on the mixture of auras to find the source of the noise. It's so distant I almost can't... decipher it. You can't hear it? Fenrer stilled when a rush of spiritual mist wrapped around his chest and overflowed his body as Kon stepped over the bridge and shared the space. In an instant, the music disappeared, and Fenrer frowned at its absence.

"I hear nothing. Call upon our covenant if you require me, Little Wolf. I will be here." Kon's presence disappeared, and he trailed behind the patrol when they moved onto the next section of the city, leaving his Aeoniir to his rest.

In his belt pouch, his lavastone pulsed against the cold, slowly drained of volcanic energy — enough to last them the couple days Neven predicted the operation would take. Fenrer raised his gloved hands to his mouth and rubbed them free of the icy pinpricks which muted the myriad of auras. Broken pebbles crunched underneath his heel when they went around the bend of the mountain cradle. Darkness dwindled through the constant flurries beating upon the rock when they returned to the city square of noble estates. Hippogryphs cuddled together, though Tix'snuv laid down on one of the exposed second floors of the nearest building, shaking out his neck feathers until they puffed against the wind. In the center, Neven sent sparks of flames into the gathered bonfire surrounded with larger lavastones. Fenrer frowned at the refusal of power when he sent another haphazard burst into the base, shaking out his arms.

"We're back," Fenrer replied and went straight to his side.

"Well?" Neven glanced over the patrol.

"We've cleared out most of the draugr on our side," one of the Warden's behind him said.

"Good." Neven's feathers extended past his ears when the wind howled. "You should all get inside. It's going to only get colder." He set a hand on his shoulder with a frown. "Fenrer, there is something I must discuss with you."

Fenrer followed Neven into his old estate, where dim magelights hovered in the lamps. On the table, an entire map of the cradle with points of interest, escapes, and Neven's added notes. "What is it?" he asked and set himself down on the couch, stretching out his legs when Neven sat across from him.

"Yuven is currently in one of the rooms sleeping," Neven told him. "I've already discussed the plan with most of the Wardens, but I'm having others stationed along the towers — so, tell me what you saw."

Fenrer pointed at the map and traced his memory. "I noticed some magitek still working along the cradle, though there were points that were cut off from the power." He pointed out the offending mountain pillars. " The... towers you mentioned, the ones that rest between the peaks, all of them were active — or could be activated with enough power." He glanced over the candles to the shadows on Neven's face, and the way his sapphire aura tightened against his body. "I've never seen a city with this amount of magitek built into the environment, Neven... what are you planning?"

Neven scooted forward on his hands, pointing at the same peaks. "Irimount is... was one of the greatest cities of Naveera. Tell me, Molvei'saliz... do you truly think Irimount would be left so defenseless had it been more prepared for an attack from within it?" A fanged smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "If what you say is true... Irimount still has teeth, I intend on using those teeth when we draw out the Corruptor." His smile died. "Tell me thus, Fenrer... is it really a wyvern?"

Fenrer nodded against a cultural pressure in his soul. "Is there—"

"No," Neven interrupted him. "I know what you're going to say. You wish to help with the defenses, but the most help you could give is to focus on your role to play in this operation. With these defenses... I plan to bring the wyvern back to the ground before it can take flight and create a bubble of no escape." Neven prodded each of the towers. "These cardinal towers are going to serve as the anchors of power, and the ordinals to create a temporary barrier." Neven folded his arms and his feathers flicked in satisfaction. "So, Fenrer... tomorrow I will tell you exactly what I need you to do. First, I need to prepare the defenses... and Yuven's not the only one that can clash with a wyvern."

"What?" Fenrer lunged from the couch. "We almost died when we tried, Neven. Yuven will need the set-up, but what you're suggesting—"

"He may be the only one who can truly finish this, but I can certainly start it," Neven said and met him on equal ground. "Fenrer, I know it is difficult, but I must ask you to trust me." He gripped onto his forearms. "Trust, and have faith as you do. Just be ready for your part, it will be difficult, and I will not lie and pretend that I am not concerned for you and Yuven. I will set this up for you both, and trust that you two will handle it." Neven sat back down. "We don't know exactly what this wyvern will do except from your reports of its actions." He raised a magelight over the map and tucked his mouth into his tented fingers.

Fenrer allowed the fear inside the shells to leave his shoulders with his heavy breath. "I will have faith," he said. "Why have you not told Yuven?"

Neven glanced up at him. "I know Yuven," he whispered. "He assumes this to be his sole responsibility, when that is far from the case. He will be skeptical, as he should, about these defenses that failed before... and I need him focused on the wyvern instead of distracted with the past. He will know what to do when the plan is set in motion."

Fenrer widened his eyes. "...You're not giving him room to argue when we don't have time."

Neven grinned. "I am a foolish man, Fenrer... but let none say Kemal hasn't rubbed off on me." It dropped just as fast. "This was once my home... and I will do what I must."

The dawn must always come. Fenrer held a longsword in his hands and faced the draugr with his Father's face. "Very well," he whispered in pain. "I understand, Neven. I understand why you wish to do this. I trust you, and have faith in you." Bones cracked into clenched fists and broke apart vines with a snap of teeth. "I can only ask you to be careful, then, and wait for your orders as to what you wish for me to do."

"As to you." Neven bowed his head forward. "I will tell you in the morning. I do not want to keep everyone here when the lavastones lose their luster. Once Irimount's defenses are primed... we are going to finish this, and free the dead onto the path of Avae'londu." He sent gusts of wind through the candles, and left only the smoldering wicks and the tangles of smoke. "You must rest as much as you are able, Fenrer. There should be a free room in the eastern wing of the villa." Neven pointed down said corridor. "We still have much left to do before we start the operation."

"Thank you." Fenrer slipped off the couch to swipe one of the last bedrolls from the pile tucked in the corner. He left Neven in the smoky silence of the dining hall, inching through a half-open door and into an empty bedroom. Blinds fluttered through the broken glass, though someone used the old furniture to block out the worst of the snow. On his knees, he flattened out the bedroll before sitting down. Rest refused him succor when he tried to grip onto the fleeting sensation, but he forced himself downwards and sent a magelight above his head. It pulsed, quickened, shortened and enlarged the longer he stared at it, counting his breaths along with it.

Arrows sizzled with the flames of war.

Ghosts moaned and sang out for reprieve outside the window.

Underneath him, the hum persisted, dissonant and frayed against the flow which carried it. Stars fell from his magelight, and he rolled over to press his ear against the ice-cold floor. Its refrain crystallized the air, and he flattened himself on his stomach to try and get closer, to listen harder. Senses outstretched, he waded through the bubbling puddles of rot left around the environment. Tendrils of broken dreams licked at his pants when he drew closer to the crimson light's deep hum, breathing for its own life.

War raged with the pounding drums of Sungrove.

He hauled himself off the ground at the prickle of fury. On his knees once more, he rubbed his stomach of its boiling ferocity, trying to calm himself at the intake of pure savagery. "Ancient's forfend..." he whispered, raising a hand to his brow to beg for their protection, lowering it to his chest with his eyes closed to their protective shadows. Ojain, protect us from the gates of the Obscura, and tip the balance to light. He finished off the night's prayer. The faint hum continued beneath him, and he chewed on the newfound restlessness. What is that sound? It sounds like music but...

His soul shuddered with continuous, ancient agony. He dug his fingers into the floor at the creak of wood. Arrows smashed into the roof, but he squinted at his faint reflection in the tile when shadows gathered into a giant. A wolven warhammer settled into their bony fingers when they held it over his head, but refused to splatter his insides across the ground. Pyon, serve me the knowledge to battle against the dark. Ivara, set my soul free to the flow. He held out his arms, then brought his hands closer to each other. It spiraled off his fingers when the shadow grew closer with a silent moan, guided by the music. For a single moment's respite, give unto me the balance of light and dark. On his feet, he kept his arms stretched out in front of him when he crushed the river of emotions gathering in the palm of his hand. Let not the crimson feed on the soul within the flow. He closed his eyes, and painful worms shuddered when he stretched further around the beams of firelight. It bounced and bloomed, and he groaned when energy drained out of his body and his knees cracked against his bedroll, hands flat against the tile once more as the auric barrier extended from his created source.

It fell silent, and the giant's shadow disappeared.

Fenrer winced into his palm as the color in the environment dimmed, the auras hiding in the shadows of his own making. The flow is so stagnant here. He curled into his bedroll and let the auric barrier hold itself up when his exhaustion slipped into his fingers and swirled straight into his heart. Something's not right, but that was all I could do. At least for the moment... He allowed his attention to drift to the closed door.

It's gone quiet now...