First Steps (Solo)

[Sonneillon]

Midway across, the pupil stopped and began to stare at the rushing water, smiling and beginning to draw again. Finishing the sketch, he again looked at it with dissatisfaction before moving to the other side of the bridge.

"Ver! Come on!"

The shaman tentatively stepped on the bridge, watching it sway and creak under his weight.

"Um... Neil..."

"Come on, Ver!"

The shaman set off. A quarter of the way there. Looking at the ropes, Neil noticed with a bit of apprehension that they were beginning to fray slightly. "Ver, we don't have all day!" Halfway there. The ropes were definitely fraying. "Hurry, I think it might be sagging a bit..." Three quarters. "Ver! The ropes are fraying through! Hurry!" Almost there. Just a few more steps! Neil watched in terror as the ropes frayed more...more...No!

The end of the bridge ripped free, and the pupil screamed out the first thing that came to his mind in a desperate attempt to save his mentor. "Aeternis tenebris, circumda tibi nectens tuum sit!"

The tendrils shot out, grabbing Verrine and yanking him toward Neil. The pupil was hit by his mentor, who came sailing into him, and flew backwards, landing unconscious on the ground as a result of shock and the sudden trauma.

[Sonneillon]

"Neil! Neil, wake up!"

Verrine was in a panic. His investment was laying, unmoving, on the grass, his chest moving irregularly and shallowly. He'd put so much time and effort into this boy, he couldn't just die on him! And a coma was no good either!

"DAMN IT, SONNEILLON! WAKE UP!"

The pupil's eyes flew open as he stared blankly at Verrine, his breaths falling back into a normal rhythm.

Suddenly, his mouth opened, and the pupil began to scream out in a loud voice,

"Discipulus auctorem passionem crucis
Redemptionem in regnum immergunt
Obstinata mente divina vincula
Da locum ignis pastor.

Ego superbus,
Agens autem et substantiam,
Necesse est vexillifer.
Et me belli,
Is armata in forti
Confortat infirmos,

Ira tua ego sum.
Ego sum, quam meretur iniquitas tua.
Ego sum ​​cupiditas tua.
Ego sum, legem autem tuam.
Ego sum stella.
Et ego te.

Sciatis me nominatim
Ego sum, et tenebræ."

Verrine backed up in terror as the pupil began to writhe in apparent agony, small bursts of dark magic exploding all around his prone form.

"What... What on earth..."

[Sonneillon]

As suddenly as it had come, the seizure left, and the pupil sat up, groggily wiping his eyes. "No... Verrine...Why did you have to die...Wait."

Sitting up, the pupil noticed his mentor staring at him in shock and dumbfounded amazement.

"Uh... Ver? Did I die? Do I have wings? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You... You're alive...?"

"Do I look dead to you? Hey, though. It's getting dark. We need to head to a suitable camp-site. C'mon, Ver. That looks like a meadow! Let's go!"

With that, Neil dashed off, leaving his mentor to follow, chuckling in shock, awe, and relief at the safety of his investment. If he had lost the boy... All of it would have been for naught. But what could his words mean? Could the boy have contacted the Nether? Where did he learn those incantations?

The shaman was troubled.

[Sonneillon]

The night passed slowly for the shaman and his pupil; one was busy studying, while the other tossed and turned, disturbed by the aptitude the young one had shown for the elder arts. Verrine had fully expected to die; his pupil's quick reaction was all he owed his life to. But... How? How was he able to summon such force? And what did his babbling mean?

Rolling over with a sigh, Verrine couldn't help but wonder what his pupil had discovered.

[Sonneillon]

It had been a few days since Verrine almost lost his life and future; with the strange events still troubling him and clouding his thoughts, he had been terse and less talkative than usual. His pupil still seemed to be learning quickly... It was almost time for him to prepare the ritual. But that would take time and effort... And his prize could die. Or run far away.

No, Sonneillon wouldn't do that. He was too devoted to him. Anything Verrine needed, young Neil hurried to help with. He was a good boy, and he would be the ultimate sacrifice by making the ultimate sacrifice.

Verrine watched the pupil practice his spells, his eyes narrowing. Their provisions would last him long enough to prepare the ritual. Now all he had to do was keep Neil away. He would have to send him to the mainland.

[Sonneillon]

Sonneillon bustled about, packing what little he had and tidying up his room. Verrine had given him good news; he was apparently sending him back to the continent for a while. Ver hadn't been too precise, but Neil interpreted it as a test of sorts. Time to train and grow. He'd become strong; Ver would see that. He'd make his mentor proud.

What bothered the young pupil was that he saw no apparent way for his mentor to summon him back to their base. Verrine had assured him that everything would work out, and that when the time came, he'd bring him back, but Neil couldn't help but wonder. Well, maybe Ver could find him with Elder magic. That was a thought; there was a lot about the Elder arts that Neil hadn't even dreamed existed. He knew that much.

Grumbling slightly, the pupil searched furiously for his cloak. He'd hung it up to dry, and now it was missing. Where in blazes could it be?! After a good hour of searching, the pupil finally found it. On him.

Shaking his head at his absentmindedness, Sonneillon finished his packing and headed to find Verrine. He'd be leaving.

[Sonneillon]

"Ver. I'm... I'm going to leave now."

Turning around, the shaman faced his pupil, his eyes clouded and his heart heavy. He'd become attached to the boy, and he needed him to stay alive so that the sacrifice could take place. He would not let the chance to possess enormous power slip away.

"Be careful, Neil. I don't want you dying on me. Please be safe. Enjoy yourself. Learn, grow, develop, excel. Maybe seek coin as a mercenary or bodyguard, I don't care what you fill your time with, but come back to me in one piece. ...And preferably without some venereal disease."

The two broke into laughter, and hugged briefly before the younger broke away, smiled, and then strode confidently away, disappearing from the elder's sight.

"Right-o, now I just have to get down to the hidden dock and grab the boat. We've still got our old harbor spot in Lycia, so I should be able to dock there. Away we go!"

[Sonneillon]

After a few hours' journey, the pupil had traveled down to the cove where Verrine kept his boat. The small vessel bobbed gently in the waves, its mast bare and its boards weathered. Smiling, Neil climbed aboard, hoisted the sail, untied the ship, and used the long oar to move it out to sea, where the strong winds propelled it towards the mainland with great speed.

Standing on the deck with the breeze whipping through his hair, Sonneillon laughed, exhilarated, and began to chant his mantra over and over.

"Discipulus auctorem passionem crucis
Redemptionem in regnum immergunt
Obstinata mente divina vincula
Da locum ignis pastor.

Ego superbus,
Agens autem et substantiam,
Necesse est vexillifer.
Et me belli,
Is armata in forti
Confortat infirmos,

Ira tua ego sum.
Ego sum, quam meretur iniquitas tua.
Ego sum ​​cupiditas tua.
Ego sum, legem autem tuam.
Ego sum stella.
Et ego te.

Sciatis me nominatim
Ego sum, et tenebræ."

As the wind picked up, thunder boomed and lightning crackled, and the small ship bobbed in the waves like a carrot in a pot of boiling soup. Water splashed aboard the vessel, but its captain remained unmoving and unfazed, his hair still flying and his cloak aflutter, even as the clouds opened and torrential rains began to pour down upon the boat.

"Storms are delicious, yes..."

[Sonneillon]

The blowing storm propelled the small craft over the waves, rocking the boat and its lone passenger. Suddenly, as quickly as it had come, the storm passed, and Sonneillon was left standing on the boat as it sailed through the now still waters. Thankfully, there was still wind; the storm was still blowing behind the craft.

"No more storm? Ah, what a shame."

Far in the distance, the pupil could see the coast of Lycia drawing near. He'd dock in Badon, in their usual harbor slot. And then, once that was all taken care of... His adventures would begin! What an enticing thought.

"Wahaha! Time to take the world by storm. Watch out, everybody, Sonneillon Gressil's coming your way!"

Such confidence for one so young and weak. Such confidence...

[Sonneillon]

And with a slow clang, it was done. The boat was tied and locked into the harbor, the fees prepaid and the owner given a hefty bribe to watch over and protect the vessel. The protective iron gate dropped, locking the ship in its stall, and the boy walked away, the key safely stowed in a pouch around his neck.

"Where to? Ilia, I say. Ilia indeed. I'm gonna see the land, bit by bit. I'll hone myself in the harshest of conditions. I'll trek the Ilian glaciers. I'll navigate the endless Nabatan dunes. I will carve my way through the Ostian flames. I'm going to be the best. The strongest. The most powerful. I'll bring honor to my name, and glory. None shall see me that will not bow to my power and might. I will be immortal!"

And thus the journey began.

[Thread End]