The Prince Returns (Talon)

[Lyra]

54th of Searing, 122 AS

Location: Lyrielle's Dark Demense

A cold wind blew through the dark trunks of the forest around Lyrielle, the trees moaning as the breeze gave their souls voices to sing a chorus in the night. Through brush and foliage, Lyrielle saw eyes watching her pass without blinking. There were questions there, wondering who, perhaps what, she was and why she had come there. To those that watched her Lyrielle smiled. They would all know of her soon enough. They, like the place they called home, were now hers.

The ground beneath her bare feet was superb, and the elf felt such wonder. A hand pushed aside a branch that blocked her way, and she felt the roughness of the park on her palm and the slight itch of the prickly leaves on her skin. Such smells, such sounds assaulted her senses, and such sights that the elf wondered how it was mortals contained themselves. There were so many things that one could only experience with a body, and Lyrielle desired to experience them all.

A form crossed her path, large and hulking with fur a mottled brown and green. It paused and swing a large antlered head in her direction, its eyes empty sockets with blue fire in place of eyes that stared at Lyrielle for several long seconds. Lyrielle tilted her head, dark smoke flowing from her form as she floated off the ground, curiosity growing as she drew closer, but the beast merely snorted and turned to shuffle away once more. She felt some disappointment, but Lyrielle shrugged and continued her walk. She came to a small stream and waded in until she stood ankle-deep in the cool liquid that flowed lazily deeper into the twisted forest.

"How I have missed the simple pleasures of life." She knelt to run her fingers through the stream, staring at her own reflection which seemed distorted in the slow-moving water. A flash of gold drew her gaze upward, and she smiled as she saw one of her fragments had returned to her. Extending her hand Lyrielle collected the spinning gold smoke, studying it for a moment before her eyes widened slightly in understanding.

"You brought a guest." Lyrielle laughed. The smoke swirled in excited patterns, seeming eager, "Alright alright. Come, return to me and let us greet the little bird who has finally returned home."

Breathing in the golden smoke Lyrielle closed her eyes, and fell back into her inner soul space.

*****

A soul space was a reflection of the core which made up its foundation. The world in which Lyrielle stood was a vast broken landscape. In the distance fragments of ancient civilizations hovered in the air, steadily eroding away into dust that drifted lazily upward into the empty sky above. She rose to hover in the air above the crumbling city of some forgotten kingdom, coming to rest on top of one of the ancient battlements attached to a collapsed wall.

Lyrielle pressed her fingers into the center of her chest until her black nails pierced her flesh and dug deep into her sternum. Dark liquid trickled out as she withdrew her fingers and a small silver orb which she licked clean before flinging it off the side of the structure.

Talon was released from the fragmented form in which he had been transported in, and his soul was allowed to unfurl within the space Lyrielle provided. She looked down at him with a raised eyebrow, the hole slowly closing in her chest as she regarded the man.

"With this, another debt is paid. Tell me, little bird, how was your journey?"

[Talon]

T A L O N

Traveling as a passenger within the fragmented form of Lyrielle had made him wonder if this was how she had felt for the majority of the time that he had known her. He had known, intellectually, that Lyra was not the whole of whom she was supposed to be. Her soul had been broken by Arcas father, the Dragon King. Many times across the few years that the two of them had known her, Talon had gone out of his way to help her collect the pieces of herself. Whether it was delving into the depths of the Warrens to collect a fragment of her or helping her navigate the complexities of arcane artifacts. But to experience, even a piece, of what her existence had been like and have an awareness of the fact that he was missing pieces of himself, he felt he could understand her better.

Light filled the soul space within Lyrielle. The silver-white of Talon’s soul shone brighter perhaps than it ever had before. Everything it touched was invigorated. Shadows were not banished but rather, balanced. Colors became more vibrant. Smells became clearer. Pains and miseries became battles not to overcome but to understand as they were balanced against the strengths of personal resolve and unfaltering perseverance. For that was what he inspired, there in the full nakedness of his soul, lacking a physical coil within which the vast radiance of his soul could be cloaked.

Hope incarnate stood before Lyrielle and with his presence, all things around him became inspired to simply be. To be more. To be true. To be the purest representation of everything it meant, whether for better or worse. For that was the truest meaning of Hope, to persist against all odds. To thrive. To exist in the highest form and truest potential that one had the capacity to be.

“You have lived a long and fascinating life, Lyrielle.” Talon stood, or more accurately, hovered in before the elven woman. His silver wings were spread in full as he gave the elf a soft smile.

“I see I am not the only one who has been changed by recent events.” He did not possess Semblance, that had been left with his other self, along with the rest of his mortal powers. But he could still see her soul beneath his divine gaze. It was fuller, stronger, and laced with things he did not have the current means to fully understand. It was different than he had ever seen it before. He met the elf’s gaze with a smile. He was glad to see her. Even knowing the truth of who and what Lyra was, he had always respected her.

“The journey was…” He searched for the right word to describe the experience. “Interesting. I am in your debt. Your power may have yet saved me in the long-run.”

[Lyra]

Warmth came to her realm, light to balance the dark, and colors washed the landscape as flowers bloomed where there were but empty grasslands before. Lyrielle observed the changes with a frown, uncertain how she felt to have hope spread so close to her center.

"Much of my life has been spent in a cage, either of madness or of magic." she returned her gaze to Talon, and smiled in return, "But it has certainly not been dull."

She rose from the battlement to float down toward Talon. Her eyes, now cold rimmed in scarlet, examined him as she drew near. She examined his frayed edges, the parts that were missing, and sighed.

"Change is inevitable, but I am... regretful for what has transpired to you." It was Lyra who spoke, the part of her that knew Talon as Talon, the scholar, the owner of Ale'Epherium. Shaking her head again Lyra motioned to Talon to follow, leading them to the ground and the empty city below.

"We will see if what was done was wise or foolish. Tell me of your experiences." She lead them into the broken city, hands folded behind her back as she looked at Talon, awaiting his story.

[Talon]

T A L O N

A look of sadness crossed his features as Lyra confessed to being in a cage most of her life. He supposed he could understand that part about her a bit better after having been through his recent ordeal. Part of him was still experiencing that. He offered simply a nod of his head. Words seemed meaningless in this instance. Platitudes or apologies could not make up for the suffering she had experienced so he gave neither of those. At her admission of regret for what had happened to him, Talon’s expression went a bit bleak.

“It is done. There is no changing it. All we can do is move forward. Suffice it to say, I am either the prisoner of a madman or a very selfless, if tyrannical, ruler.” As she floated down beside him, he joined her in walking through the streets of the crumbling city. As they walked, he explained everything he could remember about what he had experienced. From the harrowing moment of losing all control of his faculties upon seeing his father drop lifeless to the ground to the excruciating torture the Imperium had inflicted upon him. He described the chains. He described the elaborate runic cage they had built. He went into as much detail as he could recall about the symbols he could remember, even the effects they had on his ability to think clearly.

He spoke on the archbishop and his cruelty, the matchmaker and her efforts to get him to breed stronger warriors, the breaking of his husband, and finally…

“They used an artifact called the Spike of Argis upon me when it was clear they could not break me through other means.” He shivered and tucked his wings in closer. He went pale just remembering it. “It stripped me of…well…me. Gutted my soul and scrubbed clean every passion, every thought, every idea that made me who I was until I was just a shell that obeyed their commands. It…it robbed me of my free will, of my identity.”

He rubbed his shoulders.

“Then they had me complete the forging of that armor.” He shook his head. “My other half retains the knowledge and skill to work the runeforge. To have done otherwise would have aroused too much suspicion.”

They had briefly considered giving him all of their magic in order to rob the empire of the weapon they so coveted. That would have caused problems however, and placed his other half in even greater peril. He was not certain it was the right decision, but it was the decision that had been made.

“What I remember is that the armor is a marvel. I cannot free myself of it and over time, it will cause me to forget that I even want to be free of it. It is changing me. Slowly. Turning my own beliefs against me and twisting them to fit the views of the emperor. My desire to do good will become the desire to do what is good for the emperor. My desire to protect will become a desire to protect what the emperor wants protected. My desire to be a hero will become a desire to be a hero for the empire.” He shook his head. More than that, he did not know. He looked up to Lyra.

“I am being sent to Solunarium on the continent of Ecith. The emperor believes some great calamity is going to unfold there. I do not know if there is any truth to his beliefs.”

[Lyra]

"They are often one and the same." Lyra said of Talon's observation of the Emperor, "The weight of authority has driven many a king and queen mad, and it is rare that a tyrant thinks of themselves as such."

She had memories of her fragment from her conversation with Talon in the Palace. She remembered his words, the confidence in which the god had claimed authority to choose what was best for others. Madness took many forms, but it often sprouted from the roots of kindness or responsibility. Lyra listened quietly to Talon's tale as he spoke of his time in the Imperium, and as he spoke they walked the broken cobbled roads toward the castle positioned at the center of the city. They passed buildings blacked by an intense heat, where stone had melted before a fire hotter than dragon flame. When they came to a wall Lyra floated to its apex before continuing their journey on the other side.

Though her expression remained impassive Lyra's eyes chilled at the mention of the Spike, but she said nothing until Talon was done speaking. They stopped at a gap in the walls where the crumbling palace could been seen, and there Lyra looked up at Talon before closing her eyes. With a motion smoke rose from her fingers, flowing up and taking the form of the armor which Talon had been forced to forge. She remembered the details from her fragment, and so it was the full bodied version that he had worn when they had met, including a recreation of Talon himself wearing it.

"A fine thing, this armor is." Opening her eyes she examined the armor, running a finger along its smooth surface, "You give me much to think on. This Imperium is more ambitious than I would have expected, and the relics you describe are things that should not have fallen into mortal hands. Things that can tamper with gods, even fledgling ones, attract misfortune to those around them."

The image of Talon turned in a slow circle, showing the armor in its entirety. There were no creases or seams, no obvious runes or glyphs. It almost looked like skin tight clothing were it not for the unnaturally smooth surface that did not reflect light. The longer she stared the more Lyra felt an unease creep under her skin, a difficult feat given how she had changed in the short span of a season.

"I am uncertain of the book or chains, but this armor and..." She frowned and crossed her arms, "Long ago, during the time you were Arcas in full, one of the generals of the dark legion used to wear armor similar to this. His army was the most well organized, and trained, of all the followers of Ilixidor."

With a wave of her hand the landscape changed and they were on a battle field from long ago. Men in black armor that drew in the light marched in ordered lines, and at the head was a man with white hair and hard eyes. Lyra looked at him with contempt, but continued.

"Ra'shela tu Mira Nix, once respected as wise leader of his age forsook the newly crowned Pheonix Queen and sided with the betrayer to reclaim the lost glory of the Hytori. He was a general and competent warrior, but the source of his greatness was the absolute authority with which he lead his army."

The man raised a hand and the near endless see of bodies stopped all at once, spears thumping the earth in a resounding boom that shook the ground with their force. Their faces were hidden behind closed helms, but there came a faint glow from the slits for their eyes.

"You see Ra'shela was no master craftsman. He did not create the armor, but rather found it. The armor he wore, and the armor that his legion donned, were left behind in the aftermath of the Rift Wars... Which means that the armors origin is likely from somewhere deep in the Shrouded Realms."

The scenery cracked and shattered before flowing away as smoke to reveal the crumbling city once more. Folding her hands at her waist Lyra started walking again.

[Talon]

T A L O N

When the smokey image of himself wearing the sleek armor manifested, he had to resist the urge to draw back. Seeing himself trapped inside the suit that he had been forced to complete against his will was something that had haunted his nightmares in the days since. He watched as the scenery around them changed, becoming a battlefield where an entire legion of soldiers wearing similar armor, led by an elven man, marched in unison. He shivered then, though not from any sense of cold.

“They forced me to bind myself to it using the absolute highest extent of my skill.” They both knew the caliber of artifacts that he could create. The armor had already been powerful. It was now even more so. In the art of runeforging, he knew that he had few peers. That had been used against him in a way that he hated. He knew that it would haunt him for a long time. He joined Lyra in their walk. Seeing the ruined placed all around him, he wondered if these were places that Lyra had been to herself or were simply the echo of things pieced together in her mind. The answer was likely a little of both.

“I…” He struggled to find the courage to say the next few words. “I do not know what to do.”

It was true. His strength as a warrior had failed him. His prowess as a sorcerer had failed him. Even his gifts and abilities as a demigod had been useless. He did not know if that was because he simply lacked the knowledge, power or will to withstand the Imperium or simply because the Imperium had invested so heavily into specifically defeating him. His thoughts were jumbled. It would likely be several more days before he could find his stride and focus on what lay ahead. By some twist of fate, he had been forced apart from himself again. Even if he could feel the warmth of the Bond, the embers of Hope and the highest extent of his demigod powers within himself, he still felt lacking somehow.

“I fear that when the empire learns of this act of severance, it will invite a more direct approach from them.”

[Lyra]

In the depths of ruin and despair, there was always hope. This thought flickered in Lyra's mind as she looked at the agonized expression on Talon's face as he relived the trauma experienced at the hands of the Imperium. He should have broken, given in to their demands completely. Lyra knew that the Spike of Argis was not something that could be resisted, the memory of a life devoid of of passion and emotion is enough to crush even the thought of rebellion. Yet here was the embodiment of hope standing before her, small and worn perhaps, but here all the same. Somehow despite everything done to him Arcas... No, not Arcas. Talon had found a new path.

"You mortals are so full of fear." Lyra began softly, shaking her head, "The world is a vast and terrifying place, full of betrayal and danger around every corner. There is no certainty, not even in death. Yet still you push on with your futile little lives, hopeful that maybe, just maybe things will get better."

Perhaps the words would seem out of place given the context and Talon's own dialog, but Lyra felt the truth in them from a place of understanding she had not had before. A memory of another life, a child in the desert streets who begged for scraps. She stole, she fought, she struggled to live just one more day of her agonizingly awful life... yet every morning when the light of dawn broke the horizon she felt a small spark of hope renew itself in her chest. Maybe today would be different. It never was, but the slight hope at times was all that the child could hold on to in order to keep living.

They came to another break in the wall, and they could see the ruined castle. Lyra folded her hands at her waist and stared off into the distance before raising a hesitant hand and laying it on one of Talon's large arms.

"So many of your kind believe Fear the opposite of Hope, but they are mistaken. Fear is a catalyst for action in the moment, while Hope is the strength to endure for the future." She examined Talon's thoughts, picked through his emotions as they came and made minor adjustments. She smoothed the edges of the trilling high notes of anxiety, but did not remove them.

"Do not forget who I am, little one." Lyra said with a wry smile, "It was I who stole away with this piece of you. There are few who can stand with Lyrielle tu Kovash Elmari, the Lady of Whispers in matters of the soul."

She gave his arm another awkward pat before letting her arm fall with a shrug, "I doubt your absence will be noticed, or missed."

It was not a certainty, but a simple hope that she gave to Talon. There was little else to do beyond that, and Lyra was not one to focus on things she could not control. Instead she pondered the first thing he had said. They had Talon reforge the armor... but why? To what end? What did they gain by subjugating Talon in the first place? The emperor, as he was described to her, was an odd man who said odder things. The oddest of all though were the lengths to which he went to enact this scheme. The armor gave off odd sensations, and she could hear the steady rhythmic thrum of influence from deep inside, but there was something more. Something unnerving, even to her. Her fragment remembered looking at the armor, and feeling as though something were looking back at her.

"Do you recall what you did to the armor when you reforged it?" Lyra asked. She absently played with a strand of hair that fell near her shoulder, not looking at Talon as she appeared deep in thought. In the distance the castle shuddered, a large hand reaching up and grasping one of the remaining towers and crushing it into dust before disappearing once more.

Lyra stared at the giant as if she had seen him a thousand times before. A memory, or a memory of a memory, one that brought her pain and longing, and rage. She could not shake the sense that there was something important happening in the world, something that needed her attention, but as Lyra fought to remain focused, Lyrielle began to grow restless.

[Talon]

T A L O N

“I am afraid.” He said it openly and honestly. “But I do not think Hope and Fear are so different. I have known the value of both. I spent…I spent so much of the past few seasons being made to feel nothing but Fear. That was not what filled me with rage. It was not what…what filled me with hate.”

He hesitated to say these things but if there was one thing he had always promised to be with Lyra and Lyrielle, it was honest. So he would be truthful with her.

“It was powerlessness to act in the face of that fear. I hated myself for my weakness. I hated myself for not being able to protect myself and the ones I love. I spent every waking moment of every day in that prison searching for a way to break free. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time it did not.” He could vividly recall how whenever the Inquisitors suspected he had even the slightest wiggle room, they had adjusted his daily carvings to account for any perceived error. The sheer level of effort that had gone into watching him at every hour of every day had been unnerving, invasive, and humiliating…until he had forced himself to forget his watchers were there.

“I do not think I ever really knew who you truly are, Lyra. Or is it Lyrielle?” He shook his head. “I have tried to. You remain as mysterious to me as the day I met you.”

He gave the elven woman a wry smile of his own.

“I do not think this is a bad thing.” He knew enough about Lyra’s formidable skill at necromancy to know that it would put anything the Imperium fashioned to shame. It was not for this part of himself that he feared, it was for the part that was left behind.

“Perhaps the Imperium will not notice or miss me, but Arcas will.” That was it. That was the part of himself that felt missing. It was the portion of his mind and soul that was simply absent whenever he reached for it. “He is angry, Lyra. More than angry. Not just at the Imperium. I think I was the only part of him that was keeping that anger from becoming something more. We--we…they took more from me, from us, than I can even put words to.”

“We came to a revelation of our own. I am not just a vessel for Arcas. He is me. I am him. The piece of him that was cut away when Shaeoth plunged his sword into my heart. We were whole, Lyra. Now, because of the empire, we are not. I do not think he will forgive them for forcing us into this situation. I do not think he can in his current state.” He touched the thin scar over his chest, directly over his heart. As Lyra gave his arm a pat, he wrapped his arms around himself. His wings came around him in a gesture of comfort. When next he spoke his voice was a whisper.

“They made me father children.” He felt a pang of something inside of himself at that confession. “They made the offer, if you can call it that. It went unsaid what would happen had I refused.”

A bleak pain wrote itself across his face and it took everything he had not to curl in on himself and sob. He had been used in a way that cut deeper than any knife of theirs could have. He had been made to partner on several occasions. He knew that he likely would have children soon, children he did not know if he would ever see. It was a long stretch of silence before Talon managed to answer Lyra’s question. He watched as the giant tore down the tower of the castle, feeling the echo of deja vu but unable to place it exactly.

“It was crumbling.” He recalled the aetheric pathways within the framework of the armor. It had been old and while functional, barely. “It was ancient beyond anything I had ever seen before. The magic in it was old and in need of repair, at least to my eyes. After they used the Spike of Argis on me, I remember it like walking through a fog. I rebuilt and realigned its enchantments to resonate with me. I added enhancements to its shape and wove into it the essence it needed to bind me. It is as much a living part of me now as my own skin. But…it is also reinforcing certain ways of thinking. I cannot fully explain it because I was not fully in my right mind when I saw it.”

He shook his head. The potency of the enchantments upon the armor had been challenging to navigate, even for him. It had been a reason why he had been forced to have a watcher, to ensure he did not overextend himself and took periods of rest between working.

“That is why I am afraid, Lyra. They want me to be an instrument, a terrible one. That armor is working to turn me into that. Not a demigod of Light and Justice. They want a demigod of Fear and Vengeance.”

“They will be sorely disappointed then.” A man’s voice interrupted the conversation. Standing under the shadow of a crumbling archway, was a human looking man. Tall and broad, his dark hair practically blended in with the shadows. The sclera of his eyes were pools of inky blackness with only deep violet irises to distinguish that he had eyes at all. Those eyes burned with a dark flame.

“Disappointed to find that those positions have already been filled.” He stepped forward but rather than stepping out of the shadows, the shadows moved with him. He smiled at Talon and Talon felt fear coil itself in his chest.

“Hello, Little Brother.”

[Lyra]

"You cannot know another, not truly." Lyra smiled, which quickly faded. A deep throb in her chest made her close her eyes, "We are not so easily understood, even to ourselves."

She listened in silence once more, thinking about the facts, the information given by Talon. It was true, she had not considered the effects of losing this portion of himself would have on the rest of the soul. Arcas was not always known as the most patient man, but he was always tempered by his mortal experiences and hope. What would he be without those things, the weights which held him down when all else seemed lost? Though he was never cruel, from what Lyrielle remembered, the Dawn Blade swung without mercy when justice demanded it. Could Mercy and Justice exist together without Hope? It was troublesome and exciting to consider.

When he mentioned their forcing a child from him Lyra's eyes snapped open to stare intently at Talon. A flicker of anger in her eyes before she looked away, chewing her lip thoughtfully before exhaling a sigh. She focused instead on Talon's description of the Armor, storing that information away for later dissection.

The throbbing in her chest intensified, like a knock on a door by someone seeking entry. The feeling of the mind that touched her soul sent a shiver through her body, and almost without conscious thought Lyrielle opened herself and allowed that person inside. It was so quick that Lyra hadn't a moment to consider the implications of inviting something else into her soul space, but as usual, Lyrielle did not care.

"You have suffered enough for a dozen lifetimes." Lyrielle said softly, her eyes turning toward the man encompassed by shadows, though her words were directed to Talon and not the man, "We have always wondered... is hope born of suffering, or with hope does suffering come?"

The part of her that was Lyra struggled to focus, but Lyrielle glided forward toward the man without hesitation. She floated above the ground, fingers trailing along his shoulders, touching his hair, and cheek, before finally curling an arm through the man's and looking up at him with such alarming devotion that Lyra felt she were fully separate from this person who moved her body.

"Em'bra..." Voice low and sultry, Lyrielle caressed the arm and looked for the eyes of the man, "You come without warning... We are jealous that you do not call on us more often as you used to."

[Talon]

He stood in silence as Lyrielle floated around him, running her hands over his hair and body. He did not shrug away from her touch but rather allowed her to freely roam and inspect what she pleased. When her arm slid into his, he turned then, bringing a hand up to touch the tips of his fingers to her chin. He leaned in, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that seared with the intensity of a thousand lifetime’s worth of passion. The light shining within the soul of the being who was Lyra and Lyrielle became encircled by shadows. They Darkness rose but did not overtake the Light. It reached for it, making everything around and within them starker, more vibrant, pulling to the forefront a glorious clarity through contrast that could only be witnessed in the realms of the gods.

He kissed her for a long moment, encouraging her to lean against him, to lean on him, to fill him and be filled by him. When the kiss was broken he pressed their brows together.

“I promised you that we would dance soon, Em’fala.” He brushed his lips over her brow. “We shall dance tonight as we used to.”

He looked away from Lyrielle, his violet eyes falling upon Talon. Talon felt his whole form tremble. He felt his every pain, his every outrage, his every fear, all stripped bear and brought into the vision of the man in front of him. He stiffened. Warning flared deep within him as he bore witness to the darkness that clung to this man like a cloak. The way Lyrielle hung on him and that shadows that followed him told him everything that he needed to know. His heart or at least the memory of his heart, beat faster in his chest. His breathing picked up as his instinct flared. Though he suspected he already knew who this man was, he asked the question anyways.

“Who are you?” The man smiled. It was a slow smile. The glint of knowledge shone in those dark eyes. He knew that Talon already knew. Despite this, there was a pause. The man’s jaw flexed and he seemed to struggle with something internally.

“Killian.” Talon looked at him carefully.

“Is that your only name?” The man chuckled. The sound made the hair on the back of Talon’s neck stand on end. He suppressed the urge to shudder. Killian shook his head.

“You know it’s not.” Killian occupied himself with threading his fingers through Lyrielle’s hair. Talon tucked his wings closer to himself. He did not know what to do. He possessed only a few means of protecting himself and in his current state? He was in no condition to go up against the legendary Dark One who was the archenemy of Arcas. Doing his best not to panic, Talon swallowed and looked to Lyrielle.

“You said that you would…would keep me safe, Lyrielle.” His tone was accusatory. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Lyrielle knew he was in no condition to face Shaeoth. The Dark One could do whatever he wanted to him and once again, Talon would find himself in a situation where he was largely powerless. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fly. He wanted to do a thousand things but he did none of them.

“And safe you shall remain, Little Brother.” Killian squeezed one of Lyrielle’s hands. “I would never force my Em’fala to break her word.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” He looked between Killian and Lyrielle. Even if it would have amounted to nothing, he itched to have a sword in his hands. If nothing else, it would have made him feel less naked and exposed. Killian looked at him, his expression going surprisingly soft.

“You don’t remember. At least, this part of you doesn’t.” The shadows around them shifted. From them spawned the forms of four people. A tall man who matched both Killian and Talon in height and was just as broad. Though the details of his form were lost to the shadows, Talon got the vague sense that he knew him. The form of a woman was nearby. She appeared to be inspecting a large structure of some sort. Nearby the form of two boys were wrestling. The shadows dissipated. Killian stepped forward then, gently disengaging from Lyrielle. Talon watched his movements like a hawk. He instinctively took a step back.

“Why are you here?” Killian reached out taking hold of Talon’s hand. Talon went wide-eyed as the dark demigod was able to physically touch his incorporeal form.

“Because, Little Brother, I think that dear Lyrielle and I can finally offer you something you deserve. You have suffered. Year after year. Age after age. You have been tortured. You have lost your father. You have lost your lover. You have lost your kingdom. A prince who is shackled. A bird, caged.” His voice was low and filled with a near pleading as he leaned in closer. Talon wanted to be angry. He wanted to refute what the dark god was saying but he offered no lies. There was no mockery in his voice either.

"You are weary. You are torn. This world has not deserved you. It has never deserved you. Justice? They spit at you. Light? They seek to bind you. They have bound you. Hope? So many want only despair." Talon wanted to draw away but he found himself drawn into those burning violet eyes. Inside of them he saw his own fears reflected back at him. He saw his pain. He saw the torturous ordeal that he had suffered not just in the empire but for the months leading up to that. A year of torture wherein he never found rest and he experienced only loss at the hands of those whose only goal had simply been to cause him pain. Killian brought him in close, pulling him into an embrace. Talon resisted the pull only slightly.

"For millennia you have fought to protect a world that curses your name for the effort." Killian looked him in the eyes, their faces mere inches from each other. Talon did not know what to say. He knew the stories. He knew the course of the lives of each person who had carried the mantle of Demigod of Justice, Hope and Light. All of them ended in death along a road filled with suffering. A little more of his resistance to Killian's pull fell away and the Dark One pressed their brows together.

Talon closed his eyes and all he could see was the grief and pain stricken faces of those he loved. He could hear Aoren's screaming. He could feel Rickter's agony after losing the Bond. He could feel his sense of being lost and in pain. He could feel how much hopelessness pressed against the edges of the collective consciousness of all whom were within the boundary of his senses. His muscles twitched and his wings fluttered before lowering. Talon let out a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes as he fought back tears.

"I am so tired." He whispered. Killian ran his hands up and down the length of his arms.

"I offer you the same thing I offer all who have need of it. All who deserve it."

“What is that?” Talon finally allowed himself to be drawn into the embrace. Killian’s arms wound around him and warmth spread through him. The Dark One embraced the Demigod of Hope and into his ear, he whispered softly.

"Vengeance."