Legend of Ransera

The Shape of Justice

His head turned toward Rickter. At that moment, as those milky white eyes settled upon the wolf, a sense of peering deep into the man’s heart would assert itself. The feeling of a presence stripping bare the deepest layers of the man’s soul drifted to the forefront of his mind.

“To show you who you are…or who you could perhaps become.” He canted his head slightly as his head turned, eyes settling upon Kala. There was a weighted silence as he regarded her before he turned his attention to Iselya. He did not respond as to whether or not he was the Master. He did, however, answer her question.

“Delivering it into the hands of the unworthy is more like it.” When Iselya stepped forward he reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword. Runic markings along the blade illuminated, flaring to life with a golden light. A silver-white fire ignited around the hilt and wrapped around the Master’s hand. He brought the sword up, brushing the fingers of his free hand over the fire burning over the one grasping the sword. His flesh did not crack nor burn. The flames followed his hand forming a small sphere of white fire that soon became limned with an edge of darkness.

“If you prove yourselves worthy, the blade is yours.” He flourished the sword, stark white eyes staring steadily at Iselya. “Let us see what lies within you.”

He clenched his free hand into a fist, sending a pulse of power rippling outward from his body. As the wave of energy radiated outward there was a sense of dizziness, a feeling of weightlessness, as though their very souls were suddenly being disjoined from their bodies.

And then…blackness.


The world came crashing back into motion. For Kala, she had seen it all, even if she could not move to stop or participate in the events. Rickter would be dropped to his knees as a new power blossomed in his soul. The heightened awareness, the rush of new sensations, the shattering and rebuilding of his mind over and over in the blink of an eye, all of it pressing down upon him as he returned from the dizzying blackness that had consumed him. Iselya would find herself utterly exhausted, with barely the strength to stand. Her blades would clatter to the ground. But in that exhaustion, there was a sense of harmony that had been absent before. An inner balance that had not asserted itself in many years. This was followed by a sense that her patron deity, Arcas, was with her. His strength was her strength. Present. Waiting. Only but a hair’s breadth away, within reach and hers if she would ask for it.

The Master knelt before Iselya and with a sweep of the blade, produced a scabbard. He inserted it slowly then extended the sword to her.

“You are worthy.”

Kala was here and now. She was also outside of space and time. It would take quite a while before she was able to articulate the experience, as well as the experiences of those around her, time passing distinctly between multiple threads of time, experiencing the birth of something superhuman in Rickter, experiencing Aoren laid gently upon the ground, experiencing the explosion of grace in Iselya, the Void and the Light, the Sword and the Sheath.

The sword pierced her flesh without harming, battering down a door she hadn't known was there.

Kala was here and now, alone with the Master. She was also in that field with Mother Naori. Her black flowers burned like stars, Void and Light. Her Divine Mother smiled, laughed.

Where the sword had gone, there was only light, as though her heart were the furnace of creation. And then it was hidden once more.

As time collapsed once more, as her brother and her followers crashed back into her psyche, she was on her knees. Her hands were raised to her chest, her lips parted as she gazed starry-eyed toward the ceiling, the picture of transverberation.

Ş̴̧̨̭̙̳̦͔̙̝̈́̀̋́̎͘t̵̤͗a̵̢̰̤̗̞͔̘͂̉̓͌̍̑͘͜͜r̶̢̜̱͓̫̥͕̲̱͊̀̌́ͅs̸̹̖͍̻͙̺̠͎̒̈͛̃̇̓͑͗͝͝.̴̩̺̙̪̱̠̱͓̳̆͑̀̾̌̀͛͛͝

The wings of the airborn Avialae missed a beat, but none fell from the air. Instead they returned to land among those tested by the Master. They could feel Kala evolving, transforming, even though her diminutive form remained the same. She was already rising as the Master bade her. Unsure whether the secret of her divinity remained that, she would perhaps suss things out whenever they retreated from this place. For now, though, she nodded to the Master, acknowledging what had been said and what, perhaps, had been implied.

Then she knelt beside Aoren, seeing him more keenly than ever before.

Carefully, she placed her hand over his heart, and then she reached out through Marda Ahtivan to the priestess' goddess. She begged the favor of healing the fallen dragon, and if a favor were required in exchange, so be it.

Ȉ̷̗̬̬̻̼́͆̍͑̔̌̀̚̚̕͠o̸̮̤̯͕͈͕̾̊̎̌͆̀̃͑̄̓̌͗̑̅̃͐͆n̸͇̦͉̭̰͈͈̖͕̯̲͆̋̀̆͗͒̇̓̂́͗͗̉͘̕͜͝ỉ̴̡̘͖̜̥̣̜͙͉͉͍̘̠̲̘̑̋̈́̍̎̌͌̔̕͠r̸̙͚̰͕̞͙͂̑̍̆̿͊̀̓̏͘͠ḯ̵̢̛̺̗͙̼̱̘̤̆̾̏̅͐̄̂̔͐,̶͎̩̹̳̘̏͘ ̷̢̡̡̣͍̙̗͎̝̦̲̲̼̠̼̼̊̕ḁ̵̧̛̞͉̣̬̩̹̩̜̹͚̹̘̎͂͂̒̀́̈́͜ͅį̸̫͈̜̯͍̀̅̇̈́d̷̥̭̏̉͌̒̄̆̋͑̿̅͂͛̈́̈́͐͠ͅ ̸̨̬͈̤͎͈̃̈̏͊͗̌̀̋̒̔̀̑̕͘͝ͅͅm̵͔̙̺̹͚̻̝̯̞̖̫͇̮͒̄̒̍̇̽͗̇̾̍͗̚͠e̴̞̦̜͔͇̱̥͂̒̔͑̄̓̈́̐̓͝ͅͅ ̸͚̩̤̠̗̳̃́n̵̢̟̱̩͇̮̬̎̾̑̓͛̊͐̓͆́́͗͂͋̀͝ͅȯ̵̧̝̘̜̫̞̦̮͕̣̂͗̿̉́̈́̈́̾̔̇̆͌̌̕w̷̡͚̣̯̫̻̤̠͘͝.̷̧̢̤̳̤̼̬̫͔̲̄͌̔̇̅

The Shape of Justice

There was an answer across the light bond that Kala maintained with the venerable priestess. Through her, the demigoddess of healing lent what strength she could through the fledgling bond and by that extension, the gift of health was granted. Aoren drew in a breath, color returning to his form. He breathed steadily. As her presence receded, the goddess imparted a small note of reassurance to Kala. What could be done through that link had been. After a moment, the warrior groaned and opened his eyes. Elemental fires burned in his irises and it was a moment before full wakefulness came rushing back to him. He jolted up, eyes wide as he regarded where they were, the state of all of them.

“Wha--where? Is everyone---?” He looked at each of them, his eyes settling upon Kala. “Are you--?”

Something resembling understanding and realization dawned in his eyes. Then his attention snapped to Rickter before he grimaced and pressed a hand to his chest. Aoren squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. He reached out and gave Kala a thankful squeeze on her shoulder before shuffling over to Rickter. Grunting in pain he extended himself to Rickter across the Bond that they shared as he recognized in full what was transpiring there.

“B-breathe, my wolf. Breathe. Do not try to restrain yourself. Let it---ah!” He shivered and knelt next to Rickter as the Rathari struggled internally with what was happening to him. He recognized what was occurring, having been Bonded fully with Talon after his partner had gone through his ascensions.

“That’s it.” He brought a hand up and took one of Rickter’s hands into his own. “Feel this. Be grounded by this. Do not be afraid.”

When the worst of it began to fade, he slumped against Rickter and pressed his forehead to the Rathari’s shoulder. He gave a grateful nod to Kala and the others. After a moment, he let out a long sigh.

“Fuck…”

---
There was a tingling pulse as Iselya’s hand touched the sword. It was as though something were inspecting her, examining her. The sensation that something was peering into her very soul was heavy for a moment before it passed. This was followed by a warmth.

Novuril. The Sword of Dawn. It was hers. It was in her grasp.

Milky white eyes regarded her quietly. The Master rose to his feet, unconcerned with the presence of any others. He turned on his heel and began walking toward the opposite side of the platform. He did not answer her as he walked away. The edges of his cloak began to sway slightly in an unseen wind as his form became more and more translucent.

“We will meet again, Laveriel of Blades.” The Master continued walking until his form faded completely out of sight. Inspection with even aethereal senses showed that he was nowhere to be found.

The hall stood empty. All that remained was for its occupants to gather themselves and return from whence they came.

But as was so common when venturing down in the Warrens, none of them would be leaving as who or what they first entered as. In the end however, it would be up to them to determine what that ultimately meant.