“Of all the monsters I have encountered and all the monsters I have vanquished, only one eludes my understanding. To this day, I have no clue what that thing was or where it came from, and a part of me doesn’t want to know. But I do know one thing for certain: there are some questions that will never be answered, and perhaps it is for the best that they remain unanswered. However, for future generations who may come across this text, if you do find an answer, I hope you prove wiser than I ever could be.”
—Excerpt From the memoirs of Cenric Dellcreek, The Illuminator, First King of Aria. Transcribed and Written By the chronicler Eadig the Wise.
Cenric awoke suddenly, his green eyes wide open, darting back and forth as he tried to orient himself. Taking in his surroundings, he realized he was lying on a bed inside a makeshift tent, and to his surprise, the iron collar was no longer around his neck. As he attempted to move, he felt a sharp pain, and upon further inspection, he discovered bandages wrapped around his body. Struggling to sit up, he heard a familiar voice nearby.
(“I wouldn’t move around too much if I were you.”) The voice stated with a level of concern. It was Tharos sitting on a rather ornate chair on the other side of the tent, watching him with a slight warm smile on his face. Next to Tharos was a smaller table with stacks of several books, one of which was in Tharos’ hand.
(“What happened and how long was I sleep for…”)
(“A few days and as for what happened you fainted.”) Tharos replayed flatly, looking up at Cenric as he read his book.
(“What happened to the monster, the city.”)
(“Gone.”) Tharos said in the same flat and bored tone.
(“I see, so where are we?”)
(“We are outside the city, on the southern side, in the remnants of Eilis Camp. Tell me, Cenric, how do you feel?“) Cenric tried to adjust himself in bed as he spoke to Tharos.
(“Aside from feeling a bit sore I feel fine… did you.”) Cenric gestures to his neck
(“Yes, I found the control rod and disabled it for you. No one should be able to track you or influence your behaviour through that collar. You’re a free man now.”)
Cenric breathed a sigh of relief and couldn’t help but feel relieved.
(“Thank you, Tharos.“)
Tharos put his book down and stood up, giving a small smile as he did so. (“Well, Cenric, it looks like you have some choices after you’re fully healed. I plan on heading out, so we can part ways here if that is what you want. However, if you wish, you’re free to join me.“)
Cenric pondered it deeply. He was now free to go wherever he pleased and become anything he desired. However, he was just a child, with no friends, family, or home left. He had nothing but the clothes on his back. Despite Tharos having saved his life, Cenric didn’t completely know or trust him. There was something about Tharos that unsettled him, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. However, traveling with Tharos couldn’t be that bad. Was it any worse than what he had experienced so far?
(“I will be happy to join you Tharos.”)
(“Good.”) There was a slight hint of joy in Tharos’s voice, as if this was the outcome he had expected or desired. Cenric couldn’t tell which it was.
(“If I were you, I would rest for now as your injuries haven’t fully healed.“) Tharos said as he turned his back on Cenric and left the tent. Little did he know at the time, this choice, this small decision, would colour his life forever going forward, leading down a path that few could imagine, himself included.
A week passed without much incident. The camp itself was a mess, with dead bodies strewn about like seeds on an untilled field. Tharos had no intention of burying these bodies, only replying when Cenric asked. “Let the sands have their due,” he said. However, Cenric noticed that there were a few people missing or whose bodies he couldn’t find: Eilis, Rayner, and Stigr. Perhaps they had escaped or been caught up in the explosion that destroyed the city. The city itself was nothing but a massive smoking crater with loose rubble that the sands were slowly going to claim. It was rather sad to see such a magnificent city destroyed, but it was better than having those monsters running around. To anyone who died in the city, it was a funeral pyre worthy of a king. And it was as good a send-off as any. “Goodbye, Torag,” Cenric would think to himself as he looked at the burnt-out remnants of Zarbar one last time.
After a week had passed and his injuries were fully healed, Tharos stocked up on supplies. The two of them were now ready for the journey ahead, to leave the city of Zarbar and venture beyond the Deadlands to the lands of Aria Proper. Their destination was unknown, their fates uncertain, with only the light of the sun and stars to guide them.
To be continued.
