Legends of Kepler: Age of Erin

CHAPTER II: NOSTALGIA FOR THE NIGHT (2)

CHAPTER II: NOSTALGIA FOR THE NIGHT (2)

The curtains of the afternoon lingered between the stealthy mystery of the count, who crossed the roads in the hazy direction towards the currents of the sacred river; in avid ways. Leyra and Gėovan, looked at each other around the confusion, as they reached the floating river. They walked through the ice suspended between the heights, as winter made the use of sturdy boats unworthy, until they arrived the frozen shores of the entrance to the royal council. They entered the main hall, where to their surprise, the Table of Balinthor was occupied; some important elves were gathered in the room, and thirteen guardians lined the surroundings of the hall. A meeting was read to follow, for a forthcoming dialogue with the elected. Including the royal earls, who were eagerly awaiting the duo.

"Sir, excuse me," Leyra whispers to one of the guardians. "Do you know what this is? Count Byron brought us here without saying a single word.”

"We don't know either, my lady," replies the guardian. “They took us from our decks in the outskirts, to be here. They told us that the Master was going to conglomerate royal servers, for an important message must be delivered. "

"Everything is so strange." exclaims Leyra. “Master Yeradoc is not usually that reserved. And I don´t see him around. Where is he?"

"Ma'am, it´s hard to tell," the guardian replies. “We have been waiting for him almost all morning. There´s everyone now, but him."

"Well, how inconvenient." responds the woman.

"Leyra, here he comes," exclaims Gėovan.

To the right of the royal table, a man emerges from the depth of a passage with two men. His eyes were watery; his face white as the mountain snow, his hands trembled, and his steps were slow. The counts and the guards, rose from their chairs, at the entrance of the greater, but this one only sat down, and made a quick move with his hand; so that they would sit down immediately, without saying a single word, and keeping his gaze declined. And after a few eternal moments of silence and intrigue, the elder count began to speak.

"Elves dancing around the night, will remain no more," says Yeradoc. “The smiles of the children of our lore, will finally perish. The fixed starlight of our days, will finally vanish. Young sires, I´m afraid, a living calamity is emerging in acrimony. The shadows of the forest roars with rancor. The beasts are rising, amid misery and discord, and this time, the enemy comes merciless. I've seen it all, it really is, our end. "

There was a terrifying silence, as the man spoke in generalizations, and cold plots. The council remained quiet, as the man prevailed with his face bowed to the ground.

"Sir, excuse me, but what are you saying?" asks one of the royal counts, "Were you talking about the shadows, from Eldrįner?"

"How many years have you been on this council, Lescott?" asks Yeradoc.

“Sir, I don't think we–

"How many?!" yells Yeradoc.

"H-hundred and thirty-two rimmers sir!" exclaims the man, stuttering.

"And yet you do not understand the evil that perjures these lands?" exclaims Yeradoc. “Perhaps you have forgotten the bodies we have lost in this curse! Aren’t you listening to the voice of winter?!"

"The enemy awakes within the depths of Eldrįner!" exclaims Yeradoc. “The monsters of the Demian Range* are approaching our lands! Despair and scourge will at last eat the gleaming ofr our kingdom! "

"But sir, how do you know this in advance?" asks Count Byron.

“Because I've seen it a hundred times, Byron! Their roars sigh around me at night! " exclaims Yeradoc, agitated. “Visions recur in my dreams! Terrible endings, for they are warning of their arrival! And they are warning me, because this time they come with the hungriest of bloodshed that has ever been seen in this realm! The outskirts will be dominated, our fortress will not survive, the mills will be rooted in the land of oblivion! Our crops are snatch and our people devoured! We won't survive this time gentlemen, I guarantee it! "

“We can use the Defense of Truno*,” exclaims Veredic. “If what you mean sir, is that there will be too many this time, we can prepare for the attack; collect arrows of light and strike at their hearts. This splendid strategy has served us well in the past, hasn't it?"

"Is the leader of the army forgetting that these strategies were implemented by the major earl?!" Yeradoc responds. “I know them, because I made them! And not even that will save us! The evil that Elgoneth is allowing me to see is unshakable!"

"Sir, excuse me, but I really think you underestimate our defense" exclaims Gėovan. "We have survived this before, and although some souls are left upon the ground, I don't see why we can't face the beasts and held until the light of dawn, and triumph as we always have, together."

"So the Clarice believe that?" exclaims Yeradoc. “You know what, let's all get up. Let's follow the advice that the magician offers us! I'm not going to waste my time anymore. Let's see ‘together’ what your eyes will wish they hadn't seen ever. Hale, take us to the royal springs."

Halem then, got slowly up from his chair. He followed a temple path, that overlooked the frozen shores between the entrances, and led them towards the beginning of the tabernacle.  The company entered a reserved and open room, regularly intended only for the councilors. It was a secret chamber, where waters from the mountainside gathered, and fell like a small waterfall inside the royal council, from a cramped ascending hill.

The group was speechless when they entered the room. The waters were frozen, but covered with a red hue. The trees that adorned the place were shaken, dry, closed. The surroundings sprouted a disgusting smell. The moment was paralyzed in the mystery of evilness. Uncertainty ran through the places, and what was once a private show for vital gatherings, became the true hall of hell and sorrow.

"What on earth happened here?" asks Count Byron. "Is this what I think it is?"

"It’s worse, since it comes from your brothers," exclaims Yeradoc. “Streams of blood running under the frozen ground; coming from the mountain hill, as it announces our final encounter. The terrible closeness of reckless behemoths. It was a real tragedy, what happened today."

The elder count sat upon one of the nearby benches; the group stood in the distance, dumbfounded, by the horrifying energy that was felt in the place.

"I–I have no words." exclaims Yeradoc. "Halem, please speak for me."

“Given the recurrence of Master Yeradoc's dreams, we decided today to send Grivaren and Solemnil at dawn, into the depths of Eldrįner.” exclaims Halem, “They were assigned to see the caves and descending sides, where the deceased bodies of the ancestral beasts’ rest. As you already know, it is not a recommended order, so we warn them to be away from danger, and stayed aware, for the purpose was from a distance, as they tried to recognize any anomaly, and brought them to us."

"But these never came back," continues Halem. “In the middle of the morning, a reddish energy began to run in the frozen waterfalls, bringing a terrible smell; and after a thousand years, the water from the royal springs rediscovers the color of war. The symbol of the beast, who acclaims the belonging of the blood from the southern elves. "

“It is the roar of a legendary creature, the leader of the Demians*,” the man exclaims. “The fables tell us, her last arrival was intercepted on the outskirts of the caverns, and only the radiance from the Tree of Cropto could stop her; forcing her return to the depths of the forest. She was already heading in here. Edoer was completely destroyed, and if the beast had it longer, Zaragad would have been devoured. "

"Why hasn't anyone ever mentioned this to us?" asks Gėovan.

"The Mother Damian* was believed to be extinct, a myth among the legend," Halem exclaims. “But the guarded scrolls, talks about how the gelid waters of the council springs turned red, and how it proclaimed the birth of a mother beast. The light of the tree frightened her in the legend, it never said it would come again; and she never returned, so the tale was lost. The demians are evil spirits, spawned from the curse of the damned black dragons, those lying dead in the forest. But with her mother awake, our chances are certainly nil."

"This is terrifying," exclaims Gėovan. “But that does not mean we will not be able to face it. I do not know the size of this evil, but you have me now, and there is the great seneschal with us too, along her father's blessing. We can lead together with Count Veredic and the army, this battle, sir. Our hopes are not yet lost."

“Gėovan, you don't know what you're saying!” exclaims Yeradoc as he gets up from his bench, “this is not just any spirit that fears the light! This is the mythical beast that survived within the deepest earth of this cursed forest! Who do you say is going to defend us? Your powers? Sorry Gėovan, but the ability of a Solarian won't defeat the roar of the beast! And no offense to the father's daughter, but she still doesn't know her powers well! And she doesn't even trust in them! She mentioned it to me herself! "

"Did you tell him that?" Gėovan asked Leyra.

"Well yeah, but–"

"But nothing!" Yeradoc exclaims. “Your insecurities will not be forgiven here! Our greatest fears will be embodied here, and we will have no solutions, no way out! We couldn't even resist the last attack up front! What will become of us before the legendary beast? We can defend ourselves, we can try to hold back, but the outskirts will fall before dawn, like petals from a bitter, dry bush! Edoer will meet the flaming lords, and after that, the queen of darkness will come insatiable and untamed against Zaragad, and here it will be too late for us! This city was not built to withstand this! We will become ruins, and the fury of the animal will attack the town as we fall into the end of all our days! Like the last song about us! "

"Sir, but perhaps, we still have time to prepare ourselves," exclaims Veredic,

"It´s sir," Lescott continues. "When do you think this attack will take place?"

Master Yeradoc then looked up to the nearby heights. A cold breath ran through him, and the man's eyes remained static as he received the sighs of the sinister and untamed feelings.

"Tonight," Yeradoc exclaims.

Suddenly, a long, high-pitched screech disturbed the company's ears. Everyone covered their ears, while the sound testified the distant, deep, but existing presence, from a malevolent being. A disturbing creature. A sound that called for the glory of evil. To the call of oblivion, into the shadows of the end.

Yeradoc fell to the ground, as soon as the sound faded. Nearby elves tried to hold him, and his breath did not return to himself. They began to scream in despair, for it seemed that the breath had penetrated the man's soul. Gėovan approached to safeguard the earl, without knowing his whereabouts, as the Duchess of the Woods had been stunned, walking in her surroundings, for the roar revitalized the traumas hidden within the consciousness of the woman, while she visualized the images of destruction and oblivion; the living the tragedy the decayed count narrated.