Chapter 8: The Chosen

Azrel

"Azrel!" The voice called to him again.

He awoke slowly. In a distant part of his mind, he knew that he was dying.

"Azrel!" The voice was closer. He struggled to his feet, ignoring the protests of his injured legs. The rain was now a soft patter of noise around him, and he looked to where the sky should be but saw nothing but blackness. He let the water fall on his face and enjoyed its soothing touch. He reached out an arm to lean on a tree, but when his hand grazed its surface, it seemed to transport thirty feet away from him.

"You must survive, Azrel." The voice in the back of his mind, or possibly right in front of him, encouraged him.

"The fate of Dermnth depends on it." She urged him through the forest.

He placed a hand on his side, trying vainly to keep his blood seeping out. His breath came in short bursts, and his vision was filled with mist. He kept moving, and as he ran, the forest seemed to grow and shrink all around him. Although he couldn't see the voice, he recognized her and followed trustingly.

"Where…" Azrael Struggled, but he had no energy to speak or to run.

The dense wood around him was turning dark, and the rain was not so gentle. He stopped and turned around and, to his horror, realized that he was being chased. A creature with glowing eyes watched his every move. Azrel tripped back on a rock but turned and fled.

"Azrel, do not be afraid." The voice was behind him now. It had joined in the chase. Azrel no longer followed it but fled from it.

He stole a second to look back and almost lost his balance when he saw the creature take flight. It gained on him, pushing and pulling its great wings with ease. There were no trees anymore, just a blackness that seemed to go on for eternity.

"You know me." The creature cooed near the back of his neck; it was not the voice of the girl any longer.

Azrel did know the creature. It haunted his nightmares from his childhood. If he was going to die, he would do it fighting. He reached for his sword but remembered that he had forgotten to grab it when he first had fallen by the river.

"Azrel, stop."

Azrel did so and whirled around, grabbing the knife from his boot. The world was covered in a cloud of gray mist. The creature was nowhere to be seen.

"Where are you?" Azrel called into the void around him. "I'm not afraid of you."

A figure of a man came out of the fog and stood at the edge of the circle of mist that surrounded Azrel.

"Do not fight your destiny, my son."

It was his father that spoke; his eyes glowed the same as the creatures.

"My destiny is to Derminith." Azrel shook with betrayal.

"It is all the same destiny," another voice spoke up, this time of his grandfather. Azrel pointed his small blade at them as more figures came out of the mist and stood within view. All of them were reflected portraits of the kings that came before, most of which he had only seen in portraits or in books. They all encircled him now; from above, there was a loud cry of a bird. He looked up just in time to see it descending on him.

"AZREL!" The creature landed on him, knocking him to the ground, the knife flying out of his hand.

He was pinned by the talons of the great crow. He struggled beneath it, kicking and screaming for his father's help.

"You are born a descendant of the gods." The crow's voice was steady.

Azrel did not fight anymore. It was the perfect copy of the paintings he prayed to daily back home. He surely had died to have met the maker of the universe.

"Son of Islo, it is time for you to take on the mantle and restore the kingdom to what it once was." The creature began to melt into him; around him his ancestors energy poured into him as well.

“Ahh!” Azrel screamed as the spirit flowed into him.

Azrel felt it pierce his skin and crawl inside his soul. It was agonizing. He met the creature's eyes which were no longer glowing but perfectly matched to his own blue ones. It melted even further still until Azrel could see nothing but feathers and felt encased with power. It traveled down his arms and into his very skull, changing him.

He lay there for a moment and then rose, no longer human but not fully a god. He stood taller than he had before, and although he was still mostly human, when he looked at his hands, he could see the likeness of talons and feathers protruding along his back.

"Azrel?"

Azrel stopped looking at his changed form and saw that he was alone again save for one dark-haired girl; she held her hand to him. She held no fear in her eyes only curiosity. He tried to remember if they had met before.

“I am a monster.” He shied away from her but she stepped closer regardless.

“Azrel take my hand.” She spoke with the voice of a thousand women before her. Being close to her made him feel more at ease. He felt human again.

“Please?” She spoke softly and he felt his heart buckle for her.

He reached for her hand feeling like he might crush her with his new claws. When they touched, he felt calm for the first time since he was a child.