Chapter 5 - The Beginning of Chaos (part II)

Within the misty forest, whispers could be heard. The whispers were unintelligible, as if the trees themselves were whispering. Amidst the thick fog in the depths of the forest, there was a tree—a very large and ancient tree. This tree was different from the others; its color was ashen white, its leaves as red as blood, and its roots spread out like claws across the surface of the earth. The trunk had a hollow, a dark hollow that could house anything, but it only housed the spirit of a white sorceress.

The tree itself was the body of the white sorceress, whose fate after death was to transform into a tree after a few centuries. These were known as the Trees of Annam, which in ancient language means cursed tree.

White sorceresses in their time were very powerful and dangerous. Many centuries ago, they caused much suffering; it was a very dark and chaotic era. Over time, after the extermination of the entire lineage of white wizards, no one remembers them. But there are few memories scattered around the world, and some memories remain latent, clinging to what they once were. Some do not have enough power to project themselves into the world, and the few that do receive help from someone desperate.

In the depths of the tree hollow, Vyrkon lay on the ground, clinging to life. His tenacious gaze was lost in the dim light visible from the hollow. His breathing was labored, and his hands clenched the earth tightly. The whispers he heard inside the tree grew louder, and suddenly, the voice of a sweet and seductive woman spoke in his ear.

"It's been a long time, my dear Vyrkon," the image of a beautiful woman with white hair, eyes as black as night, and pale skin appeared before him. Vyrkon said nothing; he didn't have the strength to do so, and she knew it. "My poor dear," she said, looking at the wounds on his body.

She extended her pale hand, and her delicate fingers caressed each wound on his body. She wrinkled her beautiful face in a gesture of concern.

"Let me help you." Passing her hand over Vyrkon's wounds, she healed them quickly. His labored breathing normalized, and the strength that had weakened returned to him. He opened his hands and placed his palms on the ground to stand up.

"It was fortunate that my tree was near the place of the fight; otherwise, you would be dead," her voice sounded very seductive and slightly mocking.

"Thank you," Vyrkon said, curving his lips into a slight smile.

"My little boy, you've become a man," she said, observing his body and seductively touching the muscles of his right arm, then caressing his chest with her fingertips. "Many years have passed since I last saw you," her fingers traced his chest, up his neck to his chin. Her black eyes gleamed slightly as they rested on his lips. "While you were in prison, you never showed me your face."

"I didn't want you to see me in that deplorable state," he said, looking into her eyes. He knew she saw everything through his eyes, which is why he avoided seeing his reflection in the water's surface while imprisoned.

They shared that intimate connection through the blood pact Vyrkon had made many years ago in that same place. The pact bound him to the sorceress's spirit, giving her the power she needed to project herself into the world. But although she could project her body and part of her powers, it wasn't enough to leave the tree. Her soul remained bound to the tree, but it was also bound to Vyrkon, allowing her to see the world through his eyes.

"Worse than when I saved you?" she smiled maliciously. "If I had been in shape as before, what happened wouldn't have happened," he said wearily.

"It's no use lamenting what happened. Tell me, what will you do now that the baby slipped from your grasp?"

"I might still have time if I hurry," he said, jumping to his feet.

"Even if you hurry, you won't find her," she said, vanishing like the mist, then reappearing behind him, her fingers caressing his back. "The baby is no longer in this world." At her words, Vyrkon furrowed his brows. She continued, walking around him, "I could feel the portal between worlds being opened, and it can only mean one thing."

"They crossed between worlds…" Vyrkon said, clenching his jaw.

"They won't return for a while," she moved stealthily around him, playfully.

"That's if they return," he commented.

"They will return, I'm sure of it," she smiled. "The problem you have now is what to tell Derkno. You can lie and say you completed your task, or you can tell the truth, but we both know he might kill you if you tell the truth." Vyrkon clenched his hands into fists. She was right; he couldn't tell Derkno the truth, so he would lie.

"Tell me, can you sense when the portal between worlds opens again?"

"Of course, I'll tell you when it happens," she approached him, their faces inches apart. They looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds, then she leaned towards his right ear and whispered, "You can always count on me for anything."

"I know."

"Now that you're back, we can resume our pact," she extended her right hand in front of him, and a red gem appeared in her palm. Vyrkon smiled and took the gem from her hand. "My magic needs to be strengthened, and you're the only one who can provide it."

"I'll give you all the magical power you need, Leoric," he said, bringing his hand to her face, and with his index and middle fingers, he caressed her cheek and some strands of her white hair. Vyrkon disliked any show of affection or care from anyone, but with her, it was different. With her, he could be vulnerable because she knew him in his vulnerability. They met at the exact moment, complementing each other from the start.

***

The grand doors of the royal hall opened wide. Derkno walked with firm and imposing steps towards the altar where the king's throne lay. His face smiled as he observed the throne that was now his. His brother was dead, and he could no longer feel his niece's presence. Ekhros finally belonged to him. He reached the foot of the throne, looked at the seat, rejoicing that it was worthy of being his.

He turned on his heels, looking towards the front of the enormous hall. His henchmen awaited him with joy on their faces. Komram, Isayri, and Vyrkon were in the front row, and behind them were some soldiers, garluts, and citizens cursed with eternal obedience. Derkno took a seat on the throne, leaning his back against the seat's backrest.

His arms rested on the armrests, arrogance emanating from every movement. His henchmen knelt before him, and a smile spread across his lips. He was finally home, where he belonged and where it should have been his from the start. Outside the palace in the city, the desperate cries of the citizens could be heard. The city was being looted, and anyone who opposed them was killed.

Children cried as they saw their relatives murdered, and houses burned in flames. Some soldiers who remained standing after the battle hid or fled the city. It was no longer safe for anyone. The peace that had ruled for centuries no longer existed; fear now reigned.

The message was transmitted worldwide through the kurminos bubble. Troops formed in each city to defend themselves, but every man or woman who faced Derkno's soldiers fell one after another. Isayri cursed anyone who showed resistance.

No city or village was safe in the early years. After many battles and defeats, most Ekhronians adapted to the new era of darkness imposed by Derkno. Those who didn't adapt were eliminated or sent to the dark island.

Most sorcerers who posed a threat were hunted and imprisoned, a latent threat Derkno wouldn't allow to flourish. The few who opposed Derkno's rule and managed to escape kept moving constantly to avoid being located and to form a resistance strong enough to face the dark king again. They needed much strength for the future battle.