Legend of Ransera

"Beautiful."

The Stitch Mother stepped in close, her smile stretching and growing and widening into a monstrous set of infinitely stacked mandibles and fangs. Her million limbs began weaving a thread of pure divine aura around Rickter's form, binding him in body and spirit and soul and aether while he was forced to stare down her maw. Once he was wrapped up entirely save for his face, the Aetherium's raw energy forced itself out of his gullet and eyes, a blindingly painful extrusion. The energy poured down her gullet, and with it, she pulled his memories from him as well. With it, she tore out the bonds of the Echo and his forebears, consuming them all entirely.

Once all of his aether, both foreign and domestic, was drained out of the god, she dropped him unceremoniously to the ground, still wrapped up in her aetheric silk. The energy she'd absorbed from him was then cast back into the world, following Rickter's own bonds with the living and the dead, little invisible spiders walking invisible lines. To every person who'd ever met Rickter, heard his name, interacted with him in anyway, had one of these creatures heading their way, passing freely through magical wards, stone and metal and any and all manners of defense and obstruction without even slowing.

The little spiders found their many charges, and crawled into them, disappearing into their souls. And with the smallest of bites, all in a unified coordination, they injected Her venom. And with it, Rickter was burned away from them and the bonds that the creatures had followed were dissolved.

Every person, every sentient creature, every spirit and dragon and lesser God that she had touched now never knew Rickter. There was a Void in all their lives, memories, and hearts now. For many, they would simply forget and never think about it again. But for those that knew him more intimately, for those whose lives were more closely entangled with his, they would find their minds and hearts trying to repair the damage of his removal. On this day, many would experience a great and painful grief and sense of loss, with no idea as to why. And then their minds would begin repairing their memories to make it all make sense.

The attentive father and pack leader was now the forgettable man that abandoned them all. The caring and protective lover was now a one night stand with a faceless stranger. Every mind reacted differently, repaired itself differently, but all were affected and none spared.

Rickter was gone.

Myshala stared down at the drained God of Frost, her million mandibles chittering softly. She then looked up at the Monolith and a moment later, it was twained in two, each piece jutting away from each other. A gateway was opened, passing through the longest stretch of impossible emptiness, before spilling out into the pocket dimension that was built here.

"You will be missed, Winds of Mercy," another black tear rolling down her face and to the ground, where it popped back up as a spider and scurried off.

!

Message from: Aegis

All connections that Rickter has to people in the world are now erased forever. He has been wiped from the minds of every mortal and demigod. Any emblems he carries have been removed. His own memory is now entirely erased as well. All of his powers as Demigod of Frost, all of his magics, save the runes lost previously, and all of his skills are still intact and functional, but will come with a sense of intuition and may require some re-familiarizing with. I will be making an associated Global Announcement.

He wanted to fight it. Every last bit of it. If this had been anything remotely close to what Vicis had deemed for him, what Fate itself wove for him, then Rickter would've fought it to the very bitter end. Yet he had so much more to live for. So much worth going back for in the world, that to fail in his duties here would've failed them all entirely. Everyone. All those people that had made him who he was to this day.

In his near catatonic state he grew rigid, the afflictions of aether which roiled through him bringing out more tears. Not like this... Anything but this. He heard the chittering of a thousand insects surrounding him now, and felt the terror of Myshala's embrace around him soon after. His body and soul were wracked with pain that came in tidal waves, while his mind spent those last few moments he had thinking of the ones he loved. The ones he'd leave behind. Telion. The first woman he ever grew to truly love, always placing others above herself, and ever the adventurous spirit deep down.

The wolf remembered the first time they had met, how the night had been covered in brume. It was with Hannah that there, the ever classy but sassy rogue as he deferred her. Theirs had been a rocky start after Rickter and Telion met, though, Hannah had always been one to bring out the fun in Rickter. He regretted how true it felt when Lyra said it would be her, always her, looking out for the rest of his pack when it came to it all. One way or another, Rickter always had something which would always pull him away.

Further and further he felt the confines of her embrace seep into him, draining out the aether in his flesh and bones, as the power surged through him almost like a broken dam; the pressure finally released as it surged completely out of him. Talon. He was the one who brought the better out of Rickter, always lifting him up, and encouraging the wolf to become a better person at the end of the day. The wolf had embraced his own individuality because of Talon, and learned to let go of the past he kept himself chained to so easily. Aoren. Another who lifted the wolf up on his bad days, pushing Rickter to think for himself more each day, and believing in the wolf for everything he stood for also.

His twins. Isaac and Kendrick both were still so young, but so very important to Rickter to hold onto. He feared what they would suffer now, never knowing anything about the father that left them behind. The vibrant flares of aether radiating out his skin soon turned into embers, as the painful enterprise of his energy led the Flesh Queen to carry out the rest of her Bargain. Rickter would be granted succor and soon, no matter how desperate he wanted to hold onto everything. The Barnells. Patrick alone had been an unusual character for Rickter to get acquainted with, however, he and his kin were a bunch that deserved love and praise all on their own. Without them, especially when they were there, the wolf would've had to make much harder sacrifices in his time.

The Great House Novalys. The House of Waves. Both were homes he didn't ever plan on asking for, yet, both took him in at times when he needed a place to go. Families which he didn't ever plan to associate with, just somehow naturally became the very people he needed in his life. All that and more, as everyone else he could think of, would soon no longer remember the wolf that was Rickter Maze. The residual aether left within him finally died out, leaving him completely vexed and strained, once the finality of it all seem to be set in place.

Everything. All of it. Every last bit of himself suddenly slipped away entirely, leaving what felt like nothing more than an empty husk inside a shell. Released from the bindings which Myshala had over him not long after, the body of a nameless wolf fell limp to the ground where he lay. There was naught to his name anymore, and naught to him save for the Divinity which flowed through his veins. Rickter as we all knew had ultimately, finally, become lost with no certainty to follow; no veritable hope that he might ever return.

Thus as the last of her words fell on near deaf ears, the Northwind himself grunted softly before darkness took root in his conscious.

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

Myshala waited, watching the events in the collapsing pocket realm unfold. She no longer a single glance upon the god that was bound in her webs and unconscious at her feet. She watched as the mortals managed to conceal themselves from the Void Spawn and make their way back here into this meager, little cave. The goddess, with her impossible amount of spidery limbs and mandibles waited many long moments, hoping to savor the fear that often came when mortals viewed her form.

It was one of her favorite flavors.

Her eyes easily penetrated through the silly little artifact granted by the young god and she shifted into a mortal seeming elf now, of seemingly Solunarian appearance. "Such short and fragile lives..." She slowly walked around the unconscious god's form, her webbing around him melting away. She moved past the ghost and Athalia, her dark eyes on Hilana, "Resourceful, yet rash. Full of caring and careless. Ever changing and stubbornly resolute." A small chuckle that shook their very auras.

She turned toward the broken monolith, her backs to them and yet they would still feel her all seeing gaze burrowing into them, "Always reaching for that which is the responsibility of the gods, always wishing for more, losing more and more mortality along the way." She placed a hand upon each half of the Monolith, which shifted and melted, revealing the bodies of two heavily tattooed elves, identical faces and opposing sexes. With that, the opening to that realm closed. Looking down at their corpses, "To think you went so far for him, accomplished the impossible to fulfill his Wishes, and yet, mortals always succumb in the end to their own overreach."

She turned back toward the living, a subtle nod to the unconscious god, as small spiders fell out of her air and began to consume the two dead elves, "You three owe him everything. He saved you and countless others," a small smirk growing on her face, "He gave up all that was important to him." She continued to circle around them all, eyeing them as a predator looking upon a trapped meal, "A new bargain has been forged through your desire to live on, tethered to the debt you and all other mortals now owe him."

She raised a hand, pulling down the swirling raw aetheric energies from above, at least those that remained after his sacrifice. With her other, she waved it over the god's form, revealing his divine form in all its splendor to them, "The Lord of Frost perseveres. He will be lost and broken and pained, but he is one of the divine nonetheless." The room grew dark as the last of the energy was absorbed, the frozen shard of the Sundering gone, revealing the twilight and the Eclipse above the island that slowly revealed itself, "Your debt will be repaid through growing anew that which he has given for you all." A broad smile revealing her infinite maw of mandibles.

"If any of you untether from this world without repaying your debt, I will be waiting with eons of suffering."

The island they stood upon now, which had begun freezing when they arrived as now a glorious and beautiful monument to Frost. Great spires of ice grew, a forest of sorts forming there, clouds began to form, and snow began to fall, casting a refreshing brightness all around. The sea was frozen all around them, offering a path to the northern most reaches of Karnor. Myshala smiled as a pack of ice wolves peered out from behind the spires, the largest of them a softer golden hue, with a couple of small pups underneath her, backed by hundreds more. One long look was given to the unconscious god and the entire pack howled at once, a long, mournful note that would be carried by cold winds around the entire world so that all would hear their loss.

All with any semblance of mortal emotion would know that a terrible, painful price had been paid for the day the sun returned to Ransera, and none would know the cost.

Myshala cast one final look at Hilana, "He will be needed in what comes next."

And with that, she was gone, leaving the four of them alone on this island, one that was named by some unknown discoverer eons again, left to collect dust in tomes and memories of geographies, one that was seemingly uninhabited and unimportant, just a chunk of rock really, firm, steadfast, and unyielding. An island that no longer was simply that, but had become so much more, an island with life and love and connection lost. An island that had been named for its interesting shape and it's location in the frigid north.

Frostfang Island and in the sky above, a sliver of sunlight began to peek out from behind the Eclipse.

!	Message from: Aegis
	You may each post one more time before this thread is concluded. All pertinent details for what comes next for each of you will be included in the review.

The sisters walked silently, step-in-step, hand in hand, padding along the ground much as they would have silently in the sands had this Athalia been the one to exist in the world of Ransera rather than the void. But she wasn’t and they didn’t, but there was a kinship there that came from understanding. Even with Æros sealed away inside of her, Hilana could only hope that he was safe from the mouths and tentacles. Seeing as he made little sound or fuss from where the ghost was hiding inside of her, she had to assume he was. She didn’t know if he could sense her emotions, but the Vastiana was resolute as she walked, grim and determined. It didn’t matter how much her heart hammered in her throat, how white her knuckles and Athalia’s knuckles were as they gripped each other’s hands. Even in this horrific pocket world of the Void, they were not alone. Not anymore. They had each other. And in that, they had the strength to carry on.

With each step, she was internally thanking Her Argent Luminescence for the Mask of Midnight’s Mother. When she got out of this, she was going to sacrifice something to the Founders, that was for sure. If she found when they got out of this that whomever was responsible for this was still alive... then they would do for sacrifices. Their essence had to be worth something. But as they emerged into the cave, Hilana heard that dire warning. ‘All will be consumed by the Void in the end’?

Not if she had something to say about it.

Though considering how disastrous this had gone so far... She undeniably had a long, long way to go before she was going to be ready to go toe-to-toe with something like this again. Now out of the Void, Hilana and Athalia took stock of where they were. That was short-lived, because something, or someone, saw right through the protections granted to them by the Mask. A Re’hyaean? The sisters froze, and Hilana’s ears practically drew back as her Wildness roiled its warnings, energy moving through tired limbs anew. There was definitely alarm there between the sisters, as dark eyes widened and their stances tensed up, and that alarm was accompanied with some level of fear that ribboned through it like swaths of caramel through ice cream. This was no ordinary Elf. The girl knew that much.

And then the elegant Elf addressed her, and Hilana swallowed a dry throat, her hand that held her Elementalism Rune releasing its grip on the bundles of fabric through her skirts while she watched her, and listened. Rash, careless, stubborn. That was a fitting description of her actions today, and that little chuckle made for unnerving sensations within her very aura. But she was not done, and Hilana stared as the bodies of two elves were revealed from the Monolith. And internally, she cursed herself again for it. Founders, she was a fool. She needed to learn to temper that rashness with caution in the future, because this was a lesson that was going to stick.

When the unconscious man’s divine form was revealed, Hilana’s mind was whirling. Solunarium was the Founders’ territory and dominion. Daemon was allowed there through his making peace with Them. She would have to seek Their permission, as well as that of the Umbrian crown, for the... Lord of the Frost, the spider-woman had called him... to be able to stay there. He may need to make a vow to Them for the time, but it was made increasingly clear to her that she was going to be responsible for him for the time being. He who gave up everything to save the world. “As You will, Lady of Mercy,” the girl bowed low to the Mistlord. Athalia did the same. It may have been sacrilege for a Solunarian to acknowledge other Gods, but Hilana was hopeful that the Deus Imperator and Domina Divina would make an exception at the moment. Riddles upon riddles. The Lord of Frost, this nameless Divine, had given up everything that was important to him. And their debts would in turn to him by growing anew that which was given up for all of them. She didn’t know what that was... but when she woke him, she would in fact need to find out.

“May I ask whom they served?” she indicated with a nod the now-empty spaces where the corpses of the tattooed elves had been before the multitude of arachnids feasted upon them. “And further, what his name is?” she nodded then to the unconscious God. Whether answers came or not, Hilana knew that they could not stop here. At the appearance of the wolves, the Vastiana bit the insides of her lips, feeling the mournfulness of their packsong intimately, and it was wrenching something inside of her. There was something missing here, and she could tell that the wolves were grieving, too. But when it was the two Vastii, the ghost, and the unconscious man, Hilana looked to Æros and nodded. “We’ll wake him... and then we will return to Tertium. All of us... and make our next plans from there.”

She moved to crouch beside the god before settling on her knees to make herself at least threatening as possible for when he woke up, and took one of his hands, cupping it in hers before beginning to carefully, and gently, shake his knee that knee that was on the side closest to her. “Sir? Can you hear me?”

There remained... sounds... in the distant corners of his mind, hearing which subtly but gradually settled back in. Was he dreaming? He did not know. He only knew that he felt oh so very tired, with a hunger deep enough to perhaps swallow the world. Beyond that, though, he had no real agency to his thought, and the mere sense of coherency was neither here nor there quite yet. Wh... Who is... His fingers might've fidgeted a moment but he still struggled, the exhaustion still plaguing his mind as he tried to assess his thoughts at play.

A sense of feeling empty and hollow lingered in his chest, but there also rested a deep and heavy feeling, like a lump of lead where his heart should've been. What had he been doing? He hadn't the slightest clue... Only that when the talking seemed to die down, if only for a moment, the sensation of touch seemed to gradually revitalize the rest of his other senses. Smells came to him in a mixture of different scents, the most prominent being the burning of ozone in the room, though, there were others which lingered rather directly near him.

Why does... why does everything hurt? The wolf finally stirred as he felt something grip his hand gently, along with the soft prodding at his knees to help stir him into reality. His eyes gradually opened and sight revealed a most unusual place, a location that might've felt familiar, even if he had never placed himself in such an area before. And why do I feel like this? Gravity felt heavier on him now than it probably ever did before, and though he soon looked utterly confused within his exhaustion, the nameless wolf stirred into motion enough to turn over onto his side.

Next to him... The smell of sand and sun, of fruits and... ash or soot from what he could tell. It was strange that his nose could pick up so many scents, yet even so, he found relative ease with identifying every one of them in the room. There was even the scent of death, though, not the morbid kind that would set his hair on end. “Sir? Can you hear me?” The olive-skinned woman asked him as he eyed her, completely baffled by the fact he woke up in what... looked to be a round room of some kind. There was another with her there but her scent smelled off, different as though she weren't human like the lady which beckoned him.

"Anatahadare?" He inquired with his native tongue for a moment, perplexed by the nature of it himself, but more so when she clearly seemed confused. "Anata wa rikai shite imasen?" The wolf muttered more so to himself than to her, a hefty groan made as he pulled himself further over to push off the floor; and then back onto his feet with a few pained pants. Then it occurred to him, finally, that he not only didn't know anything about where he was, nor the people that were with him, but also that he hadn't the slightest clue how he wound up in this place...

Nor of his life prior to that point.

"Who..." He finally muttered with a mournful look cast toward the girl. "Who am I?" It felt strange to even ask the question, and yet, the shift in language seemed to translate easier. He just hoped... that someone... anyone, might actually have an answer to those imposing questions.

The howls of wolves resonated in his heart and brought out a greater sadness, weighing down that lump in his heart even more as he heard their calls; and felt an innate longing to join their cries into the day.

Hilana


Not Rickter

Aeros