The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Faelmac Westrisser remained at his window, alone in his high tower, watching the first signs of a calamity crawling over the horizon. With his powerful senses, he pierced out through Malloon’s defensive barrier without any problems. He scanned the horizon like a hawk, waiting for a definitive sign he could use to tailor his city’s defenses.

His lip curled up in frustration and annoyance; he was aware of the impending arrival of Nether King Bleak Sky, yet he could not sense when the unleashed monster of Wyndaos would show his face.

His brows crept together, digging furrows across his brow. Yet what else could it mean that the clouds suddenly had become ugly faces, constantly weeping as they drift closer? The Nether people, especially the ancient bastards, aren’t known for their subtlety.

In two more days, the clouds would be overhead, pressing up against Malloon’s barrier. So for now, he simply watched and waited-

“Master Westrisser?” A servant knocked at the door. “There is a visitor for you.”

“Send them away,” Westrisser responded imperiously. Not that he truly was consumed with this watching; Malloon’s defenses would only be a few moments later than his own instincts if the attack should come suddenly.

No, the true reason that Westrisser rejected any interruption right now was the tingling thrill of fear he felt, looking at those clouds. Even from this distance, he could not discern how the approaching Nether King manipulated the energies to form those clouds. He wasn’t sure if the shape was meaningful, a way for a newly liberated criminal to let off some steam, or simply a show of dominance.

That unknowing became pressure. Westrisser flared his feathers. The best way to keep his edge sharp was to sit in these pressurized situations for as long as possible. This was a rare chance to train.

There was a long pause before the servant spoke up again. From the slight hitch in his voice, he was aware of how Westrisser appreciated those who second-guessed his orders. “I-it is your daughter, sir.”

“Send her in. Along with a tray of Deepice Tea.” A smile of victory spread across Westrisser’s face, despite the lost opportunity to train; there would be time later. He quickly suppressed his expression; when his daughter stormed out of Malloon almost five years ago, he had known she would eventually come back. In the end, the allure of power could sway even the most righteous individuals.

And there were many lessons Faelmac Westrisser could teach his daughter. She used only a fraction of the power of their sacred Winged Serpent bloodline. Perhaps her adventures with that fool Elhume had finally shown her the limits of her current path and convinced her she needed more power of her own.

Some of his joy faded as he moved away from the window and took a seat in one of the imposing, teal-dyed leather chairs by the hearth. Perhaps more likely, his daughter had decided to try and beg for mercy on behalf of Elhume. To make some deal with him in exchange for clemency at the upcoming trial.

Westrisser sniffed, somewhere between annoyance and disappointment. Either way, you cannot deny your blood, girl. One day, you will realize that we were meant to rule… But I must take advantage of these opportunities to remind you of what you sacrifice, leaving home.

A few minutes later, after Westrisser had time to prime his image to come off as effortlessly imposing, and scrounged up a meaningless scroll filled with doodles he could pretend to be carefully pouring over, a servant led his daughter into the room. However, all of his carefully cultivated preparations fell away when a second figure followed her into the room.

“Wooooww… so this is the study of the imposing Faelmac Westrisser. Truly, you have excellent taste.” The young woman with metallic hair blinked her eyes and looked around with obvious relish. Trying to keep a leash on his temper, Westrisser lowered his scroll. Mae Myrna grinned at him and offered him a small wave. “Honestly, I have a lot of respect for you, Mister Westrisser. You certainly know how to cultivate a certain aura… by the way, what were you reading? Your eyes were really intense.”

“Young Miss Swacc. What a… surprise to have you turn up at my home. You know, I don’t even allow your father such a privilege.” Westrisser folded his hands in his lap. His eyes flicked left to his daughter, who wasn’t looking at him, then back to the agent of chaos standing in front of him with such bright eyes. “Is it safe to assume that you are the reason my daughter chose to return to visit me?”

“Indeed.” Mae’s smile, impossibly, widened further. “We had a long talk about it.”

Westrisser pressed his lips together. When they were children, he had almost found this girl’s antics cute when she had come home with his daughter. Despite the vast difference in their status, the girl had rambunctiously bounced around their home without an ounce of respect. Westrisser had allowed it, hoping some of her fervor would rub off on his daughter. At the very least, Mae had clearly stated what she wanted and reached out to take it. And also, her fondness for his daughter was genuine.

Mae’s wild attitude eventually had rubbed off, but in a dramatic denouncement that still filled him with ire. It would be quite therapeutic to pop the girl like the ingrown feather she was.

Yet Westrisser restrained that impulse. It was unbecoming and small-minded, considering how weak the girl was. But he felt almost ill, realizing he now allowed this girl’s father into the running of Malloon, thinking he was a harmless leech in the same manner he had viewed the girlchild. Perhaps Westrisser would need to reevaluate the presence of Swacc within the city.

“You have a proposal,” Westrisser stated, almost bored of the meeting already. And her bluntness was one of her few charms that he could appreciate.

Mae Myrna bowed with an elaborate flourish. “I have convinced Feathers here that having a relationship with her father is important. Especially considering all the things you’ve accomplished. Sure, I’ve had fights with mine as well, but in the end-”

“I am willing to experience the ancestral rite,” His daughter finally spoke, raising her gaze and meeting Westrisser’s eyes. He could detect not even an ounce of hesitation within her; truly, she was ready. Her eyes burned with resolve.

Now, isn’t this interesting. Westrisser blinked. Better late than never, for you to grow a spine holding up all your feathers, blood of my blood.

He felt a surge of joy within his heart, but Westrisser simply frowned. He had been leading a city for far too long to wear his heart on his sleeve. Leaning back in his chair, he spoke. “I appreciate that she has finally seen reason. However… based on your arrival, I will assume that this does not come without a cost, despite the many benefits she will receive. If you expect me to treat Elhume with clemency based upon your actions-”

“It’s not that,” Mae interrupted. “Obviously, we trust you to proceed with all due care in the trial. But this… is a personal matter.”

Her eyes flashed with determination. She bowed at the waist to Westrisser. “I want… you to give me some pointers on my image. And perhaps… if you are willing… have you personally refine my image. I’ll give you unfettered access.”

Westrisser couldn’t deny he was first surprised. “A total refinement. Would you not worry… I would seek to twist your personality?”

“I think you might consider it, but decide it’s beneath you. Besides,” Mae chuckled. “...I bet you would find it quite amusing for Elhume to be overshadowed by one of his companions, for once. Maybe two, if your ritual empowers Feathers as much as you’ve made it seem it will.”

After a long moment, Faelmac Westrisser began to laugh. She was right.

He would find that very amusing indeed.

*****

Positively burning with the good news about their high seeding in the tournament, Devick set off to find the Nether King. Unfortunately, all his servants were unhelpful; they hadn’t seen him in about twenty-four hours, although the older Nether Herald assured her he was safe and simply training. In addition, she learned that as soon as the Nether King appeared, the skyislands would activate and they would safely avoid a disqualification in tomorrow’s match. That, at least, would keep Jawem from padding after her and whining into her ear.

Devick braved the annoying hum of Malloon’s barrier and went outside. She sniffed the air, suspicious. The clouds indicated rain was coming. Obviously, being unable to locate her quarry was unsatisfying and also failed to dissuade her. The hunt continued.

Devick felt her own connection to him weakly and spent several hours wandering around the surrounding hills. Eventually, she came back to the farm and went outside the closed door of his room. For the life of her, Devick couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t come here to check earlier. Then it occurred to her that her palms were sweaty. She stared at them for several seconds, concentrating as hard as they could.

Her hands sweated more vigorously. Groaning, she wiped them on her robe and tried not to think about it.

She couldn’t help but tremble as she considered what she was about to do. Clearing her throat loudly, she then knocked and opened the door. “Mister Nether King, I’m just here to report about your request-”

Devick froze, a step past the threshold. Because there the Nether King was there, just as her instincts had insisted he would be. He sat in an upright position, his eyes closed. His black hair had fallen in front of his face, glittering in the light filtering through the window. He appeared to be sleeping or meditating. She had never really thought much about the color of his lips, but now she couldn’t tear her eyes away from them.

“I-” Devick choked off her words. He seemed much younger like this, without his intense eyes constantly announcing his power. He looked positively… mundane, not like a Nether Being at all. Well, his musculature and size were imposing, but it was oddly reassuring to see him existing without blazing like a star of negative energy. Perhaps strangest of all, he released enough warmth that he could be safely considered a campfire.

She raised her hands to use that heat to evaporate the sweat on her hands, then panicked and lowered them. She took a few steps closer. Still, he didn’t stir.

After biting her lip for a few seconds, Devick took a tentative sniff. The scent of his body flooded through her veins, reassuring and solid. Yet more than that, when she breathed in the air around him, the strange ache in her chest faded. Despite herself, Devick’s own thoughts made her blush.

It’s not an emotional ache… it’s just the limitation of pushing the physical limits without the use of a Class. In the end, your body only has so much energy to distribute between the various improvements. Yet… somehow, just breathing near Nether King Hungry Eye helps ease that ache. Her expression flickered between a dozen expressions. A few more tentative breaths relieved that tension even further. After a minute of her hunched in front of him, she felt more refreshed and energized than she had felt in months. Is this what it means… when people describe love? But we’ve known each other for such a short time-

Just as Devick leaned forward and took another deep breath of the Nether King’s aura, his eyes snapped open. Two burning emerald eyes fixated on her, only a short distance away from him. The heat radiating off of his body intensified.

“Hi.” The word came out like the squeak of a caught mouse. Devick tried to smile. “I… I just came to tell you-”

The Nether King blurred into motion. Despite how hard she had been pushing herself in the past few years, his speed belonged to another realm entirely. By the time the world ceased whirling around her, she was laying back, the Nether King’s long arm wrapped around her waist and running up her spine to support her head. She looked up at him, her breath beginning to come very quickly.

He’s about to kiss me.

Of this, she had no doubt. It seemed to have been ordained by a higher power, with their faces so close and with their eyes locked. With no time to respond, she trusted her instincts. Devick closed her eyes and pursed her lips.

Nothing happened. Her lips felt very dry and exposed.

All she heard was a strange whirring and scraping noise, while the Nether King continued to hold her like that. She opened her left eye, trying to figure out what was taking so long. Simultaneously, some other part of her began to flush with embarrassment. She almost didn’t want such a painfully drawn-out first kiss. Almost.

But the Nether King wasn’t looking at her at all, but at a whirling drill that he had caught in his right hand, almost exactly where her head had been previously.

Steam wafted up from his hand from the friction of its rapid rotation. Gradually, the whirring ceased and the drill dissipated. Devick blinked; that drill had simply been a tightly wound air current. Yet it possessed such penetrative power. Wind whistled through the circular hole in the wall.

Rather unceremoniously, completely ruining the romantic undertones of the scene, the Nether King dropped Devick on the ground. He glanced back over her shoulder, his eyes still burning. His voice was raw, as though he hadn’t spoken in a long time. “Stay.”

He flicked his wrist at the penetrated wall and blasted it open. Shards of demolished wood drifted in every direction as he stalked out through the opening and out onto the far. Above, several clouds that resemble gloomy, weeping faces looked down at them.

“I’m not a dog,” Devick muttered, but quietly enough that he might not have heard with the rising wind in front of them. And when she followed him out, she did it sneakily, creeping up to the edge and peering out to the fields. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to a hunched figure wearing a ragged cloak that stood on top of a nearby hill.

The new arrival had the head of a hawk and grey eyes with vertical pupils. “You… how strange. You clearly possess a Nether Core, yet why is an Aether image currently mobilizing your body, while your mind is in a deep sleep?

Nether King Hungry Eye didn’t answer, just lowered himself onto the knuckles of his hands as he glared up at the antagonist.

A black tongue flicked out of the stranger’s beak. “I do hate when Aether heretics touch things that aren’t theirs. Allow me to rip these pesky poisons out of your body.”

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