Lonesome Wolf

Trailing through the heavy ice, raining over Seigram. A lone boy with snow-white hair dressed in light clothing meant for a summer's day was seen.

As if he was immune to the frigid winds, stabbing into the flesh of man, he pressed ahead, his sterling eyes glittering like two stars with a solemn air.

Staring at the North-West of Seigram, his footsteps came to a halt, over the snow that stirred with each step. Letting out a breath of warm air that froze the moment it left his lips, a smile appeared upon his face that could steal the hearts of any maiden.

"To think they would enchant an entire cathedral." He said, pulling at the black leather jerkin wrapped tightly against his chest, allowing the chilling air to cool his body. "I must be losing my edge to miss such a thing."

He smiled slightly at the image of a plain street one would never give a second glance. He drew closer but not too close; standing at the edge of the street, he arched his hands as if to touch upon something.

"If someone entered, they would be lost in the illusion and be led astray." Holding out his palm into the air. A silver glow cloaked his somewhat small hands as a heavy resistance touched upon his hands.

"Dispel," He chanted a tier-three spell as a wave of Arcana sprang into the atmosphere, covering the city in a cloak of Arcana; a powerful ripple rang through the space at his fingers.

Before his young eyes, the barrier began to wither away like acid upon flesh, revealing under a veil of mystery a towering cathedral molded by ancient stone. Akin to a castle in stature, the cathedral spanned furthered than the Young Lords' eyes could see.

Standing outside its gates, Zariel simply waited, finding no need to hide. Placing his hands behind his back and around his sword that rested silently on his back, he waited.

In but the time needed to pour a glass of wine. A hoard of knights carrying the crest of a white lotus on their chest raced out. With their weapons already drawn, they surrounded the Young Lord, who made no effort to flee.

"Quite the welcoming." He cooly said, "Care to bring me to your leader?"

Creasing his brow, Zangrin, The Lord of Ice frowned. Having led his men out, he had never thought he would see a familiar face.

"Duke Blackwater." He coldly announced, gripping a blade crafted entirely of ice.

Zariel nodded.

"What is the meaning of this?" Said Zangrin sharply, "That barrier was formulated over four thousand years ago. It had taken thousands of hours just to inscribe the necessary inscription."

"... OK."

Gritting his teeth, Zangrin glared, "OK? That's all you have to say!" he shouted, baffled by the child's response.

"Oh... Take me to your leader!"

"You're a mad man, but you crossed a line, boy!"

Shrugging his shoulders, Zariel sighed and turned to the dark cloudy skies, "Are you just going to watch. It would be a shame for me to slaughter everyone here."

Lowering his longsword, Zangrin only now noticed a young man standing in the air with his hands behind his back.

"Your Highness!" He hurriedly called, bending his back into an elegant bow.

Taking to the skies, without a hint of invocation, Zariel stood at eye level with the stranger.

"Gram Stilton, Bishop within her majesty church. "The stranger announced, with long silky black hair that ran to his back. He stood taller than most men, carrying a healthy glow. On the left side of his waist held a scepter bearing the crest of a lotus, while on the right, a robust thorny whip could be seen glistering with an amethyst hue.

Carefully studying the Bishop an arm's length away. Zariel's gaze pulled away, landing off into the distance of a particular window.

Catching sight of a man and woman standing peacefully with an indifferent smile. A brief silver glow flashed through his eyes. Zariel creased his brow and held his tongue, shifting his gaze back to Gram.

"Are you here to fight?" The Bishop inquired, a bit short of breath.

"Depends," Zariel said," I gave the king time to choose a side. I only wanted to see, who I was up against, and it seems I succeeded."

"You destroy our barrier, desecrate our land with your foul air of death, and claim you do not wish for a war." Gram replied, raising his tone.

Letting the Weave fill his sights, a chill colder than the deepest winter ran through Grams's bones. Be it intentional or not, he shook in fear. The air flowing through his lungs grew thin, and the faint screams of horror rang only in his ears.

Wrapped in a dreadful pressure of carnage. Grams's breath grew ragged. However, Zariel did nothing to hold back the rising Arcana in the air.

"I would watch your tone, Bishop. I am not one to be hung up over a broken promise. I don't mind staining this cathedral red on this beautiful night." Zariel warned.

"Y-Y-You will not stop us. Even if I die, more will come. More are already coming." Gram feebly mentioned trying with his all not to let his voice squeak.

"Good. I hope you don't make me wait too long." Said the Young Lord, turning his back. "And tell that man, behind the window of the cathedral, I am waiting for the day our blades cross."

Soaring away with none finding the courage to halt the young Lord, a smoldering glint of malice swallowed the Young Lord. "who the hell was that? Such a powerful aura, not even Titus contains such a powerful Battle Intent."

(A/N: Titus is Zariel's father. Chapter 75)

Landing on the rooftop of the Earls estate, a breath of contorted air ran from his lips. He shook his head and sighed. Leaping down from high up, he landed in the courtyard, free of guards.

Making his way through the halls, with light footsteps that carried no sound, he silently opened a door and peeped in; to gaze upon the young girl in the lotus position in meditation.

"We have such a long journey. I hope we live," he muttered with a bit of helplessness.

Shutting her door, Zariel withdrew. The night was still long, and he understood death was close. The monster he saw had been all the motivation he needed.

Pulling his blade out from its sheath, a shimmer of silver passed through the blackened night.