Legend of Ransera

Three commitments were made, three hands placed upon the obelisk, and four prices were enacted in order to enter the realm of the discarded, the lost, and the forgotten. The world around them began to fade into absolute, impenetrable darkness, leaving only the Monolith and each other visible. Nothing else existed in any capacity. Voice was muted for nothing echoed it back, there was no depth for light touched nothing, there was no temperature for nothing was touching their skin, and any and all connections they had to other powers, to other places, to other beings, to anything else, were muted entirely, though not broken.

They were alone, together.

The words upon the Monolith melted away with a flash of sheen upon the reflective surface. Each member of the party would be able to see themselves perfectly in the onyx. Hilana in the reflection would not move as Hilana herself did though, she stood there passively, watching. Then her eyes went pure black, and her head was thrown back in pain, her mouth wide open as a rainbow of colors flowed out of her maw, racing upwards into the darkness. And that's when Hilana actual would feel it, a claw, not of the physical sort, but ephemeral, only something the gut and soul can feel, as it ripped her Rune of Elementalism from her soul. The black eyed Hilana looked out from the Monolith, holding out a hand as the colorful winds above were now mixing with that which was frozen in the ceiling above them, only visible in the reflection. It began to rain down on the reflective Hilana, and the drops formed a sphere hovering her hand.

It was her Rune.

The dark eyed Hilana unhinged her jaw and swallowed the Rune, and the world for actual Hilana disappeared entirely.

Standing before Aeros was himself, also black of eyes. However, behind and offset to the side, with a hand on Aeros' shoulder was a familiar face with ebony eyes as well. A smirk grew on the face of Khyan Nykara, as the reflective Aeros' eyes swirled with powerful aether. The aether snaked out of both of his eyes, funneling over into Khyan's own, And just as Hilana had felt that claw in her soul, so would Aeros', and with it, his Rune of Semblance was ripped from his soul, and flashed upon the forehead of Khyan.

And Aeros' world went black.

Standing before the Lord of Winter was a man he once knew. A man he'd once been. It was Rickter, long before he'd ever became the God he was now, eyes, black as night, smiling devilishly. His hands were outstretched, up turned, and there were was an orb hovering above each them. They swirled and writhed, pulling in the chaotic energies from above, growing stronger and more intense. And the claw struck Rickter in his soul, once, twice, thrice, ripping out his Rune of Masquerade and his Rune of Traversion. The Rickter of the Void then offered the Masquerade rune to Khyan who accepted it solemny. He then offered the Rune of Traversion to the Hilana of the Void, who accepted it excitedly.

Then he winked and Rickter's world went black.

!	Message from: Aegis
	Hilana and Aeros will each receive a new thread shortly. Rickter will receive another post in here.

As Rickter awoke, he'd find himself back in the room with the Monolith, normal light returned, the kaleidoscopic colors from above still glowing. He'd find himself racked with biological, mental, and aetheric pains and maladies, stemming from the two voids upon his soul where his Rune of Traversion and Rune of Masquerade were removed. His aether, both magical and divine were extremely and heavily in flux and trying to control it would be like grasping smoke with your bare hands. Any attempt to reach out to those missing runes would result in severe pain upon Rickter's soul.

If he looked upon the Monolith, he'd be able to see, feel, and know everything, simultaneously, of what both Hilana and Aeros were experiencing within the Void that they had entered, living him behind. Any attempt to touch the Monolith would be met with an absolute lack of activity. A look around the room revealed nothing more than the stone walls, the stone floor, no exit and nothing more.

Plop.

A drop of rainbow liquid fell from the sky above, and the moment it touched Rickter's arm, it set his senses aflame, as it began to burn through his skin, aether, and everything else there. A chuckle echoed around the chamber. Part of it sounded feminine, another masculine, another slimy and wet, and another like the death of a loved one that was already dead.

Another drop fell, this time striking the Monolith's face, and burning a groove down it until it disappeared into the floor. The matter it burned away whisped away in smoky tendrils of raw aether, floating upward. As the evaporated matter touched the frozen colors above, a few more drops began to form, falling to the stone floor again, repeating and exacerbating the process.

!	Message from: Aegis
	Rickter's Rune of Traversion and Rune of Masquerade have been removed, leaving two deep and painful voids upon his soul and applying several severe strains of personal magic upon his person (for you to show as you see fit), lessened by his Journeyman resistance.

It came as no small surprise to Rickter that Æros managed to point out something particular, an interesting detail which might or might not play a part in what was to come. Whether the absence of spirits would be a detriment to the trio or not, the wolf would soon find out for himself once all three placed their hands on the monolith. As the scriptures on the onyx structure soon dissipated from an incredible sheen, the room around them dissolved into an endless abyss devoid of sound and sensory.

Rickter looked about in awe briefly, before he noticed the reflective surface, in which his two companions collectively disappeared one by one. Hilana the first and then Æros the second, they both were there with him in one moment, and then gone the next with just the blink of an eye. Standing within his reflection of the monolith though, the wolf could literally see his darker self reacting to his fear and awe, and the sinister grin which it wore soon after brought a chill like no other down the wolf's spine.

Sure enough, Rickter felt the invasion of something dark plunge into his soul, tearing out two important pieces of it in turn, and earning a pained yowl as the final moments were that of a wink before blackness. Rickter, the real Rickter, felt his entire world spinning before he realized what had truly happened, and when he came too it nearly looked as though he'd fallen... or stumbled into yet another dream within the Land of Nod. But he knew this was far too real to be anything more than a dream.

The wolf roused himself in near bewilderment before he felt the taxing weight of fatigue, along with the burning pains that radiated throughout his entire body. The source of that pain stemmed from his right arm, flowing vibrantly throughout his core as he shifted to pull himself off the floor. "What-" He then groaned with a hiss through clenched teeth, his left hand grasped around his right bicep as he looked around first, and then down to the source of where the pain truly stemmed from. Both his forearm and his bicep no longer glowed with the two runes that rested there, each of them having lost their individual glows when he noted their absence.

"Shit! Hilana?! Dominus?!" He quickly called out with eyes wandering the room once more, certain that there was no longer an exit to the rounded stone chamber where the monolith resided. They were gone but he still lingered here... so did the structure transport them elsewhere? "Not good. Ooooh, not good." He murmured with a couple of faint whines before pushing himself off the floor, ignoring much of the pain he possibly could as he stepped up to observe the structure once more.

The monolith showed him upon its reflective surface, two different scenarios where each of his companions had wound up. Hilana facing her darker self which seemed to upset the balance of the elements, while Æros interacted with someone from their home land; someone Rickter did not know. Then came another burning wave into his arm but this time from a single point, before the heated source spread throughout his physical and astral form. The wolf groaned with another short growl, before he looked down at the point of contact of the burn. Had another one of those iridescent drops fallen onto his arm?

He looked upward then and noticed laughter all around, laughter that unnerved and even aroused fear within the wolf. "The hell is going on?..." Another drop fell to touch the monolith this time, and the searing sound led him to gradually back away a few steps. The smoke which burned off the structure rose to influence the array of endless colors above, as a few more drops soon plummeted from the inner stem of the tree above. He had no idea how to stop this, no idea how to save those who were whisked away. He didn't even dare try and sense Slipspace anymore, knowing that the rune was gone along with his connection to it.

"What... What do I do?..." He knew he needed to avoid panic first and foremost, as prominent of a reaction that became in his mind. What the wolf had to do was find a way of stopping the aetheric drops from above, for as far as he could tell, that would diminish the monolith entirely and that... could be bad. Especially if he wanted to get the other two out in time before that happened. "Okay. Think Rickter, think!" His mind reflected on what his companions would do, rather than simply what he should attempt to do. How many times would he just blatantly throw himself against an obstacle, only to make it somehow worse in the process afterward?

He wondered what Telion might've done, or Talon perhaps, while he looked from the monolith up to the ceiling overhead. Curiosity settled into his nose now as he pondered the situation, even so much as crinkling it a few times from the whiffs of air it took in. Burning ozone. There were a couple instances where he'd experienced the smell, and here, it was strongly prevalent just as it were the day he stood in front of The Hobbled Gobbler in Zaichaer. "Aether." Raw and potent that much he could tell, and the fact he'd just made contact with it before... Even now he felt the stinging burn still fill him from where it made contact. Were he still a mortal, then he likely would've been suffering a greater affliction in turn.

"Alright," he murmured with his focus back on the monolith, "let's see what we're workin' with." The wolf's eyes blinked before he focused on his other runes, still sensing them present which brought some small ease, but hardly any comfort against the situation he still faced. When Rickter's eyes opened though he strained to keep them focused, utilizing Semblance to gauge the monolith and discern any factors he might assess.

"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter"

As Rickter looked into the Monolith with his Semblance, he would see the events unfolding simultaneously before him. But also, his Apprentice level magic was passed onto Hilana and Aeros both. So as long as Rickter held his magical gaze, they would share the power, and Rickter would be able to see from their points of view as well.

However, it seemed that it held no effect on Aeros. It appeared that it saw nothing out of the ordinary, no unusual aetheric flows, nothing strange beyond the warded armor that Khyan was wearing, but even that was simply good magicrafting. And then Rickter would see Aeros raise the blade, and he'd watch as his world went black, and the magical connection was severed.

Aeros was dead though.

Through HIlana's eyes, he'd see a world of elemental power in massive flux. Much of the energy he could see was far brighter than his semblance would allow him to see clearly, but he, and Hilana, could both see that the control on the flames, on the aether through her hellscape was inconsistent and incomplete. He could see the flames responding to Athalia's call, quelling their fear and preparing them for war.

But while Rickter was locked in with his Semblance, he wouldn't be able to see the world around him. That same chuckle, distinctly more feminine now, filled with clicking sounds. Moments later, another droplet fell, striking Rickter just on the back of his shoulder and burned its way down his back and leg, searing away flesh and aether and divinity, a knife through butter.

Another droplet fell, catching just the tip of his nose before burning through the floor. She laughed again, "The last one was better looking... so delicious... especially in his final moments..." She tutted, "His nose was a true work of art, molded by Her personally, I'm sure of it." Another laugh, "There was this elf once, made a Bargain for me to have such a nose, and was ready to give me his kingdom." Her myrth continued, "What would I want with a mortal kingdom?"

Though he felt a bit rough from the exertion Rickter's Semblance rune provided him with aid, weaving strands of gold throughout his irides as he focused intently on the monolith. What he saw both disturbed and unnerved him greatly in turn, for his gaze shifted through the structure and into the alternate places where his companions had gone. Æros continued speaking with the individual in his situation, seemingly showing a sense of distrust but also complacency within whatever place he was in.

"What are... No. No!" He saw the blade which the horned half-breed had accepted, and the pit in Rickter's gut welled deeper at what came next. "Fuck!" He wanted to tear his eyes away but couldn't, not that it would matter once the world around Æros faded to black soon after. Yet Rickter could feel him, the impressions left behind in those final moments, the warm cut of cold steel leaving a ghostly memory across his throat. Instinctively he pressed around his collar for a moment, his breath ragged before his semblance gaze shifted to Hilana.

Hers was a situation that hardly seemed to be improving, but the lady didn't seem entirely without a plan either. She also wasn't entirely alone, however, the wolf had not forgotten the promise he made to Hilana upon their first meeting. "Hold on, lass!" He prayed as he looked from the monolith back to the ceiling, hopeful that Father Time himself would lend him the lengths he need to help her. That was when he saw the next drop of aether trickle down onto him, hitting his shoulder as burned through the fur padded vest he wore, and streak on down his back as he yowled once more.

The aether was burning him just from its sheer potency, the raw form of magic itself sizzling as it burned both fur and skin. And just when he'd fidgeted away in hopes of lessening the burn down his back, another drop tumbled down to splatter onto his very nose. The wolf yelled out in sheer pain at this point, running his hands over his face as he sought desperately to relieve the burning there, while his skin started to blister from the degree of burns felt on contact. He couldn't help it now, not when all he could smell was burning ozone with seared flesh, a sickening combination that nearly made his stomach heave as he pulled himself away.

Away from the monolith to where hopefully no more drops of aether fell from the heavens. And then more laughter. What came with it was a voice unfamiliar to him, however, a voice that sent shivers across every inch of his skin. "Whatever the fuck are you on about?!" The wolf growled bitterly as he still doctored his nose with a hand, his blue eyes wandering around to see nobody before they glowered in the darkness. He was angry now, almost dangerously so, but he would not let it get the better of him this time.

"I've no kingdom to offer you, nor anything else, not after what you've taken already!" He warned as he focused on the monolith once more, hopeful that this desperate idea of a plan might actually work. Rickter only needed to stay focused, and maintain his discipline in order to concentrate on her. Thus with his left hand brought down to intertwine fingers with his right, the wolf began to weave the second layer of the residual ward found in his aura. "Furthermore," this idea of his was already crazier than what he normally might contend with, "I think it's time we put an end to this fallacy of yours."

With his fingers tented together, he weaved them apart from one another, threads of aether twining into aura as he implemented the second layer in his aura. With that in place he instilled its sole primary task, to negate aether itself when given the chance, but the only questioned that remained was whether or not this would still help Hilana. Thus he looked from the onyx monolith back to the ceiling one more time, determined to watch for the next drop that would trickle down.

"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter"

The room went silent for a long pause.

Drip, plop, sizzle.

Drip.

Plop.

Sizzle.

Even to the most unobservant of Orkhan, it was obvious the process was beginning to speed up. And as Rickter wove his shields, the drops splattered against it, and sizzled. And the shield held. But Rickter would be able to feel that each drop was a heavy blow. It was slowly eroding, burning, chewing through the edges of the shield.

They held, but wouldn't for long.

Rickter would feel hands, sliding over his torso, like those of a lover approaching and embracing from behind. A breath in his ear, a hand on his hip, his lower back, a lick in the nape of his neck. And yet, no matter where he looked, no matter how fast he turned, she went unseen. There wasn't a movement or a shadow or a sound indicating where she was. He would feel her hands, her claws, her tongue and mandible all over his body and never see her, even when by all rights, he should've.

His shield glowed bright, brighter than before, and a dark figure, feminine in curves, with dozens of spindly legs extending out from her silhouetted form. As she walked closer to Rickter for him to see, he'd be able to see, with his divine eyes, her skin was formed from the hopes lost from the hopeless, her black dress, fashioned in a mortal sense, crafted from the aspirations of tyrants, her eyes, crimson as the blood she'd gathered from mortals over millennia. As she walked, Rickter would hear nothing from her, but could hear the steps of a million spiders crawling along the inside of his ears. His connection to Pantheon and her desire for him to know put a single name in his head.

Myshala.

The Spider Most Elegant.

The Stitchmother.

Mistress Most Merciful and Stern.

She stood close and smiled, revealing fangs that had rent apart dreams. A soft clicking chuckle, "I've not taken except that which is given freely, Tiberius Frostfang." The clicking mandibles chattered excitedly, "Your new form is quite delicious... if a little soft still. Doesn't quite have your winter's bite yet."

She slinked closer now, in arm's reach of Rickter, his nostrils filling with the beautiful stench of the fear from millions that she wore as a perfume, "I have come, as you asked all those mortal ages ago, to complete the Bargain."

She turned away from him, side eyeing him as she licked her blackened lips, "Is that not what you Wished for when you called my name?" A droplet fell from the ceiling and she caught it on her finger where it sizzled her divine flesh. But she showed not one ounce of pain, "Mmm it still has so much power, after all this time."

She brought the finger to her mouth, licking the burning aether off while looking at Rickter hungrily, "So tell me, Tiberius, what is it you wanted? Your heart's greatest desire?"

With aether aplenty above him there was no question as to whether he could successfully pull this off, the only doubts he had were the possibility if it could be done in such a fashion. He needed only a bit of time though, just enough to catch the drops as they fell, and in doing so utilize them for his plan to help save Hilana from the Voidsent version of herself. As silence filled the room save for the drops and sizzles on his negation ward, Rickter breathed deeply with intent focus as each plop on his shield felt weighted with strain.

Regardless the shields still held, which was exactly what he needed, enough so that as the drops of aether sizzled; their residual energies would soon be connected by an extension through his left arm. He had not done this for a long while, not since the last time he'd overdone himself and absorbed far too much aether. His limitations might've expanded since then too, but even then, the wolf knew it would only take a small amount for the aether to overwhelm him if contained. Thankfully, he didn't even need to do that for very long.

When the next set of drops came it became increasingly obvious by their pattern, the ice above was melting faster now, and the moment he heard the sizzling pops drizzle across his shield; Rickter breathed the deepest breath he could and activated his Negation rune once more. Absorbing the residual aether before the ward completely negated from it, he felt the intense burning power gradually course through his palm and up throughout his left arm. Immediately the same burns he'd felt earlier, much like the intensive burns he felt from his last attempt, came howling back through his soul in just moments upon contact.

The wolf hissed as he felt his hand and forearm were spiritually on fire, but Rickter grit his teeth and beared it so that the next set of drops would do the same. Using Osmose to asborb the aether he felt his own reserves shift and convulse, the additional power roiling through him as he started to feel a corruption seep into his soul. Just a little more though, and then he-

Something grazed his flesh, and even perhaps his soul, from where he stood within the room. It felt like ethereal hands had grasped around him, just as the air beheld an intimate sigh in just the blind spots of his vision. Something, no, someone was here with him even if he failed to see that individual. He sensed the creeping of eyes on him, as though the entity there were watching him closely; if not with a certain fondness that became apparent to the wolf. Just who though?

More drops sizzled and in the process, his shields brightened in intensity, shimmering like the northern lights throughout the upper recesses of the round room. More aether siphoned through his Negation rune, enough to the point where his skin radiated more heat than usual, and the flow of aether itself funneled through his right arm into his clenched fist. The sound of spiders crawling everywhere soon filled his ears, and beyond that, every ounce of his being felt the presence of something he hadn't felt since the day he arrived in Eikean's court.

"You..." He knew Her by name but he dared not to say it, not when he hardly had the motivation to really invoke Her presence. It seemed it did not matter whether he did or not, for Myshala soon made her presence known to him within the next few moments. The absorbed aether flowing into his right hand radiated with a flash of brilliance as he held it there, his left hand still pointed toward the shield above to Osmose what little aether he needed to finish his wild idea. Myshala though seemed to have other intentions, amused to greet him not as by Rickter, but the very ancestor which he loathed to be referred to.

Whatever the reason, whatever the purpose, her intentions remained unclear save for the reaction it instilled within him. "Of course you haven't..." He murmured as she drew closer in arms reach, while a different pain resonated deep in his core. He felt the piercing of a thousand knives deep in his soul, as though something within him reacted to the very name Myshala had called him. Could it have been the will of Tiberius itself? Or perhaps just the Echo responding to the one who created it?

"Sorry to disappoint..." He groaned with a clench of his jaw, the last of the residual aether he siphoned then instilled into an anchor; one he forged to become Overcharged with whatever reserves he had left to reinforce the charge. And then She drew closer to him, close enough that her scent overpowered his own, along with the overwhelming smell of aether all around him. Her words struck something deep within him now, words of a Bargain which had been struck long before his time.

"I... don't know what you mean honestly." He remarked with a near-snide tone, borderline derisive as he found her statement puzzling if not problematic. Rickter may have inherited much from his predecessors, including their promises that needed to be kept, but that did not make him anything like the ones who created those promises. "What was that Bargain exactly?"

Tiberius had never told him, not that he was forthcoming from the beginning, and the other ancestors he'd met knew nothing about the Echo or it's origins. In a roundabout way the wolf was attempting to buy time, hopeful that his stunt would be pulled off without a hitch, while learning something more about the ancestor who created this mess so long ago. Innate fear rooted deep within his gut now but with it came an unsound harmony, a sense of confusion budding in his thoughts as he struggled to quell the resonance within his core. "What Tibierus wanted-" The resonance pierced through his will, generating a ringing sensation in his ears as the wolf clenched his jaw hard. He barely understood what was happening now, just like many times before, only this time he felt certain something else was trying to Echo through.

"I don't know what he wanted," He grunted through the grit of his teeth, "but I can tell you right now, all that I've wanted has ended up lost or taken from me. All because of a deal he made with you so long ago, so imagine my hesitation when you insist that I bargain with you!" He admitted with a sharp glare toward Myshala, his right fist opened just as the northern lights above started to fade. The wolf knew deep down that more than anything, Myshala as well as any other godlike entity out there, could potentially see what it was the heart of mortals truly yearned for.

He was not ignorant of that little fact, nor was he ignorant of the apparent connection existing between him and Hilana now. With the anchor in his right hand shining intensely, he gave it one final glance over before he focused on her. "And one more thing," He focused on that connection they shared, desperately hopeful that his intent would carry the anchor to where it needed to go most. "My name... Is Rickter." The hand around the anchor clenched into another closed fist, seemingly crushing the construct when instead he tunneled it through that link.

Hilana, use this to remove all obstacles in your path. He prayed as the anchor itself diminished.

"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter"

Myshala watched with an amused smile, her delight growing as she watched Rickter send the highly empowered shield through the link with the other mortal. The negation worked perfectly, it absorbed the aether from that of the Aetherium above, draining so much that the colors were greatly faded, drawing the entire room into a dimming darkness.

That is until those same glowing colors returned, the millions upon millions of them shimmer and shifting and casting long shadows behind Myshala, the lights pouring out from Rickter's own form. He'd be able to feel a chain reaction taking place, one that started within his own young divinity, and was racing through him, consuming and destroying any aspects of his mortality as it went.

Myshala bit her lip, sauntering closer, leaning in, her cheekbones darkening, "Mmmm... now you show your beauty, Rickter." She leaned in close, just as Rickter would find the reaction growing so strong that he couldn't even move. Her tongue black as the eclipse above reached out, crawling over his cheek, "Delicious."

She stood back up, looking to the faded sky overhead, "Your forebear, Tiberius Frostfang, was a beautiful soul as well. He made this beauty above." She cast her gaze back to Rickter, a single blackened tear falling, "When he froze the Sundering within Frost, giving his life and the lives of his dearest friends to stopping it."

She cast her gaze back to Rickter, who would now begin feeling his heat rising, a temperature far beyond any fire, beyond any force of magic he'd ever experienced, that of a million suns within each cell of his body, "This was but a shard of a cataclysm stopped, stolen by another. It called to you for your forebear is forever tied to it."

She shook her head, "I am not here as a foe, but to finish what he began. But it seems it is too late for that." Rickter would feel every particle of aether growing and morphing and expanding beyond their natural bounds, mutating and destroying everything within him that it touched, "Your death is but moments away, Rickter. Even us gods are beholden to the raw power of our realm on high." He could feel the amount of power growing exponentially within him, a force far greater than that which had fallen upon Zaichaer, cycling and expanding and threatening to burst out from his divine form.

She took the black tear from the bottom of her chin, holding it out before Rickter, "I offer you this final Wish. Give me that which you hold most dear, and I will end this all, here and now." The raw aetherium within him surged and grew more and more violent, as Myshala reached into his mind. She pulled forth every moment in his life where he'd met someone new, introduced himself, shared love and friendship, bonded. Telion. Talon. Aoren. Patrick. Hilana. The list went on and on, every person that Rickter had ever bonded with, had ever grown a connection with, formal or not.

She looked over at the Monolith, "If that is destroyed, they will never get out of there, lost in the Void for an endless, agonizing eternity."

The colored light grew bright white, spilling onto every wall and the monolith itself. "Any moment now. Give them all to me and you'll spare them. Make your choice Rickter, or it will be made for you."

To think he actually succeeded in delivering Hilana the aid she needed, nearly brought a smile to the wolf's lips were he already not in pain from the exertion. The dimming of the room made it seem like he might've resolved the issue in general, and stayed the coming meltdown waiting to happen overhead the round room. But perhaps he had hoped far too greatly, for certainly no sense of victory came once the glow of the Aetherium brightened, and the mortal form that Rickter held did the same in turn.

He groaned and strained severely, convulsing a little before he fell to his knees and hands. What he felt was something similar to the awakening, a period where the sheer intensity of power flowed through him immensely. This, on the other hand, continued to grow far worse and at such a rapid rate. "What's-" He had to clench his jaw from the waves of power that threatened to rip through him. Like before, Rickter felt as though his entire being were ready to burst with insatiably unstable power.

The Flesh Queen made her stride closer to him, remarking upon his actions as though she reveled in his rash decisiveness. Truthfully, if he had just a bit more time, or perhaps a better chance of understanding the events at large, then perhaps he would've found another solution to the situation itself. A sliver of midnight gently roiled across his cheek, earning a glare of disgust as he clenched his fingers across the stone floor of the room. Anger roiled through him like a raging inferno, threatening to overtake him if he allowed his mind to falter into madness. But he wouldn't.

Not again. Not when there was too much at stake. It seemed he had much to learn, one way or another, of the man that Tiberius used to be. Grunting and groaning through every wave of pain which felt like turbulence against his flesh, his very soul, the wolf bit down hard enough to where he drew blood from the very corners of his lip. It hurt so much. So much that he almost reached out instinctively, only to cut himself off from everyone he felt closely Bonded to. Talon. Aoren. They both did not need to know the pain he was in, the sheer amount of suffering he was enduring at the moment.

To worry them would only worsen the situation, and Rickter had believed himself independent from their aid. How many times before had he relied on them in some form or fashion, and how many times did he feel lost after their connection had been severed? Too many for him to count. Regardless... He learned what Tiberius had done long ago, how he had sacrificed his own mortal life to end the Sundering. Or perhaps at least part of it? The wolf hardly understood the gravity of the ancient knight's involvement, he did, however, know that history had a habit of repeating itself if something wasn't done.

He could freeze the entire interior of the room perhaps. Invoke his powers as the new Lord of Winter, and preserve the monolith for a while longer yet. Though that would not resolve his other issue, the impending doom that he'd inflicted upon himself when he'd Osmosed the aether from the Aetherium above. It suddenly grew hotter for Rickter, hot enough to where the sweat drizzled off his forehead, and the skin of his shoulders radiated steam from the intense heat coursing through his form. The words that Myshala spoke nearly didn't make sense to him, only because in the heat of the moment, they were words that the wolf did not wish to hear. Least not currently.

But in hearing them, therein lied some sense of truth. Truth that the wolf had not yet revealed to himself, truth that remained hidden deep in the past of his ancestors. Clearly, the Flesh Queen wasn't intent on forging rivalries with him, though, Rickter knew better than to think of Her as anything close to a friend either. When She wanted something then Myshala made it clear, and what She always offered came with a steep price to pay. Look at his ancestors. Tiberius clearly made sacrifices to Bargain with her before, and here was another descendant of his now, pressed to do the same lest he faced the consequences of his actions.

Particles of blackened frost started to jut out from around his fingers and thumbs. However, the wolf kept the roiling waves of pain and anger contained, fighting against every fiber of himself to avoid lashing out. But that grip was slipping and fast, as the power inside only continued to rise in greater proportions. He wanted to howl, to cry, to release all the agony and pain he felt born inside. To scream because when he thought for once, just once, he might've done something right without backfiring. Instead, it had come to this...

But there was yet her offer of salvation, a Wish which came with that damnable price he would have to pay. Not his ancestors before him, but Rickter himself would be required to uphold in turn. And it did not take much for him to realize what that price would be, what it would cost him just for a chance to see his loved ones another day. Those connections. Those ties. Those who had literally made Rickter into the person he was today, who had guided him or supported him on his journey here. They would all be the price he would have to pay, a price he did not wish to part with but found both time and options were of the essence.

Neither was in his favor... And suddenly it felt like lashing out would've been the better option, were it not for the fact it would accomplish nothing in the long run. Hot tears streaked down the sides of his face as his runes radiated with vibrancy, the aether within him ready to surge out now as he dug his nails harder into the rock. He wanted to argue, or even perhaps debate, the antics of this Wish that was offered to him. But with nary the time to spare, he was left with only one thing to do.

Choose.

He thought of Talon and of Aoren, and all that they had been through both together and apart. He thought about the hell he'd gone through, and the joy he found in being their Bondmate in the long run. He thought of his family and those that came to his side, the ones who showed him what it meant to have something worth fighting for. The people that gave him courage to stand against his obstacles, the wisdom necessary to learn from his grievances overtime, and most importantly the ones who empowered him to become the man he was today. What that meant to him was more than the world, more than a whimsical shot at resolving the pressing matters of the world.

But the Eclipse had to be stopped. No matter the cost.

"Fine," He said as he looked from the tear stains on the floor to the Wishmaker, "I... I'll accept... these terms..." Rickter reluctantly agreed as he felt the ice gradually freezing the surface of his forearms, as well as his ankles and shins, as though his mortal form was on the verge of giving birth to a frigid requiem.

"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter"