Island of Adnia 2: Rivers of Deceive

CHAPTER III: TEMPER OF GODS (4)

CHAPTER III: TEMPER OF GODS (4)

"This is embarrassing," I exclaimed to my son. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

"Okay father," exclaims Iram. "This place is more embarrassing."

And yes it was, because the cavities of the infernal corridors received us like those payaos deceived by their own people. We began to run between the internal plots, when suddenly we heard the sound of a thundering engine among the outer skies of the sensed place. A fierce company, running between the symphony of a moment. We looked in the distance, and a small cavity of weak and flimsy iron prostrated itself before us. And in the small hole of this, we could see two giant balloons in the air; setting sail through the air, and the other ready for it, like the attendance and a solid and excessive moment. They came looking for the only survivor of the council.

We gathered our forces, an unstoppable force penetrated the delirium of a mitigating and glorified cloak. The gates flew over the force and physicality of plasmatic might. Aluminum and compressed iron were lost in the viscosities of an orange sky; and the winds blowing like the morning enunciation. Raise my purple blast sword, in the presence of the enemy. Iram and I were cornered, for in front of us was an army of men. All on the edge. The traitorous advisor revealed himself to everyone. Smiling and full of laughter.

“Wow, they seem to be just in time,” exclaims the advisor. "Did they seriously believe that the owners of the south were the clowns of Aravir?"

"Who the hell are you?"

The men began to bow, while he took off his hat; he took off his fake beard, and it was revealed before our eyes.

"I am the king of men," the being exclaimed. “King Pipe, the king of honor, of the prairie, and of pride. And the south will be mine, having used the temperament of the gods, against themselves. Congratulations garbage internships! The end has come! "

Take a step back. An effulgence began to run through my veins. The wind began to catch me, while electric currents gushed from my arms. The connection of the purple and the divine manifested through my might. I drew my sword, crafted from the most powerful blacksmiths in the nation; those guardians of Solari, made with the divine crystals. I raised the Sandana in front of everyone, while it shone a violet stream that gushed out among everyone, and looking at a stone in front, I screamed.

"I´m the King of the south!"

I buried the sword in the stone and a cosmic wave broke out between the trails and the nearby meadows; collapsing everything that was prostrate in front of me. Knocking down all the people who were contemplating my vicissitude. My irascibility was out of control, and the earth began to shake. My son managed to stop my fury when he made me realize in reality that King Pipe, the impostor and former commander of the Aravir army, fled amid the mystification of fury.

I launched a burst of purple fire towards one of the floating balloons, and despite the hand of that inexperienced pilot, I managed to attack the balloon by collapsing it between the nearby mountain. There was one remaining. We began to run, among dozens of fallen men, and those Delen soldiers who still resist; the next balloon began to depart, and the king pipe leapt from the cliff. This managed to hold one of the posts, and being hung from the heights, my son threw himself at him; I grabbed his legs, amid the incessant battle, and on the edge of the cliff, he drew him towards the flimsy land, while the balloon was lost in its flight.

We succeeded in annihilating all the soldiers, and in the voluptuous evening Iram buried the Ravana in the impostor's heart. Suddenly, out of him came an effulgence of a spirit that clouds our eyes; the luminosity melted us, and condemned me to kneel, for its light was too intense. My son then grabbed a vial from his bag, without seeing the energy, he caught it in it, we sealed it with a dark energy, and thus the spirit of the king of southern men was trapped in the vial of illusion. Which now rests, in the prairies of Aravir.´

"Wait, is this why the South is still at war with you?" exclaims Amsiret.

"That's right," Arac exclaims. "That was five rimers ago. You have missed a lot my brother. "

"But I don't understand, I thought these mortals were a gift from Elgoneth."

"´They are proof of him, and so you can verify it with that vermin who betrayed your kingdom, and murdered Marlina."

King Amsiret began to gaze at the meadows of uncertainty, and began to doubt the god of creation. The ruins of Sirmallen, the hidden swamp, the treacherous mortals, and the ancient musings that existed. Something seemed to hide the father from the parents, and he wanted to find out what he was trying to prove with the gods.

"What happened to the other floating balloon?" Amsiret asks.

"They got lost in the cornearby shoulders, ”exclaims Arach. “Although according to Iram, these have been seen flying between the relevant heights of the Halcyon Hills. And under the pace of this storm that we have generated, we will end up meeting there. "

"Of course not," exclaims Amsiret. "That woman is not going to get past those lakes! I assure you!"

The brothers began to run between the curtains of the exclusive day. His rage penetrated the Olympus of the extenuating day. And their looks said it all. His powers were tripled. His spells began to unify and the foundations of a cataclysm continued between the  following days. 

Massive rains. Huge gobs of snowfall. A climate inversion followed, as all the snow started to melt. The rivers began to flood. Taking everything left behind. The gods started to shout, howbeit, she was the epiphany  of the clear sighs. The gelaming of the blissful night. The hope for the nature's wonders. The only light for renown rights, towards the c****x of an imminent figt. As an overlord over deadly pain. Standing as the kingship of renewed days. Pasithea became hale, through the softness of her unending escape; her vulnerable rage. As she dwelt to find her path, above the grievance of her spirit's unique wrath. For even in the waived of forest's depths, her intuiton disposed the rightly strains. All through soutbound's uncertain prairies, the tremblous hinds around her mind. As the prince followed, with similar uncertainty and disdain, but with a strong will of make his companion become free. For when roots are deep, there´s no reason to fear the roars of the wind.