In the depths of all son’s hearts is a love for his father that remains unspoken, hidden beneath layers of pride and a desire to prove himself. A love deeper than any words can convey.
Danan. The Third Great Age. 3031.
at the dank stench of stale air in a world as black and deep as a labyrinth beyond time. The jagged, vast cave chamber houses thousands of pale stalactites and stalagmites, resembling death’s own jaws.
Lord Varesh treads ahead in silence, venturing deeper into the cave, ever downward. He carries Jain’s illuminating broadsword, its blade engulfed in azure luminous light that casts a ghostly shimmer upon the moist cavern walls. He comes to a standstill, listening to the melodic drip of constant falling water. Then he leads them ever deeper into the cavern’s oppressive night, counting the steps as he traverses.
Claustrophobia gnaws at them as the air grows thin and the walls tighten.
“There are fouler things than the air buried in the deep.” Despite his whisper, the mage’s voice echoes from the cave’s chamber walls. They stand still as the timeless stone, and the sound of their breathing bounces from the walls.
Lord Varesh leads ahead, his feet splashing through a stagnant pool of water. The mage comes to another sudden stop, and with Jain’s sword, he illuminates the dark, narrow passage ahead.
“What the fuck is that?” Jain recoils and takes a fleeing step backwards, bumping into Nubina.
“An Anasi,” Nubina hisses back in Jain’s ear, giving him a loving shove forward. “The death walker.” She edges around Jain and then steps in front of Lord Varesh.
A gigantic white spider, with a body the size of a small child, clings to the slick cavern ceiling with narrow, spindly legs, the length of a grown man, that latch onto the narrow passage ceiling.
“Don’t move, unless you want a quick death,” Nubina hisses. “The Anasi hunt at night, taking dogs, small children, and wild game.” She inches forward, her eyes fixed on the monstrous spider as she reaches for her ngbaka blade. “The venom is instant death.”
Jain gives an uncharacteristic whimper as Lord Varesh stands motionless, his electric blue eyes flickering with rising power. Nubina puts a calming hand on the mage’s shoulder.
The giant spiders, black ball eyes reflect Nubina’s approach. Its legs twitch, going taut, ready to pounce. She comes to a dead standstill, her drawn ngbaka blade flickering in the bright blue light. Sweat streams down Nubina’s body as her muscles tighten.
The spindly beast's hairless body glistens beneath a thick layer of dripping white mucus. A serrated mouth of rotten yellow fangs emerges from beneath the nightmare eyes.
Jain’s dagger whistles past Nubina’s ear, slicing through the night before it slams into the spider’s spongy head.
“The One curse that hideous thing. Fucking demon spawn.” Jain’s body goes into an involuntary spasm; his clammy fingertips rub together, and all his hair stands on end, bristling. He breaks out into a torrent of abusive curses under his breath, his eyes unable even to look at the spider’s collapsing sack.
The giant dead spider’s long tentacle-like legs release from the passage ceiling with a loud sucking sound. The spider falls, hitting the cave floor with a dull splat.
“Is it dead?” Jain peers over the mages’ shoulder, his eyes unable to fully focus on the enormous white bulk swimming in a pool of blood. The spiders’ legs twitch. “The One, kill the cursed thing will you.” His voice trembles as sweat flows from his lips.
Nubina steps forward and plunges her gutting knife into its body. A spurt of thick blood shoots from its jellylike stomach, then a blast of green puss like venom erupts from its long spear tail. The tail then shoots like a blow-dart, missing Jain’s head by a hair’s breadth.
Nubina looks over her shoulder with a smirk. “The Anasi spear their prey.” She gives Jain a wink, who, in turn, recoils in mortified horror. She pulls his dagger from the spider’s body with a gross squelch, flicks the thick blood onto the cavern wall, and passes it back to Jain.
Nubina tries to ignore Jain’s shaking hands as she steps over the spider’s enormous, coiled bulk.
Lord Varesh takes a deep breath, then, using Jain’s sword, he inches the dead spider’s body against the cave’s wall. He steps over the grotesque sack and then strides ahead without a glance backward.
“The One damn it." Jain gathers all his will; he sprints and then jumps over the spider’s dead body. He hits the ground and breaks into a nonchalant jog, then into a seamless overconfident strut.
“Afraid of spiders?” Nubina’s hips sway ahead in the glorious azure light.
Jain focuses on her arse, his eyes trying to spy a spot of flesh beneath her flap of fabric.
A chilling feral scream echoes from ahead, and they come to an abrupt standstill, their blood running cold as ice.
Varesh puts up a commanding hand for silence; not a breath is spared. The faintest sound reverberates around them, like a million fingers drumming on an icy stone.
"Oh, fuck me inside out." Jain’s whimper doesn’t mask his fear. His sweating hands wipe a torrent of cold sweat from his forehead. There’s more of them?”
“Worse.” Lord Varesh edges forward, inching out of the passageway into a vast chamber. “Umbal. Shadow demons. Thousands of them.” His voice is dull as the unkindest steal.
The mage’s eyes scan around the chamber, where towering walls climb to the very peak of the mountain. Like a hollowed shell beneath the glaciated peaks far above, the chamber is a vast pyramid, its towering walls reaching the very summit of Mount Gorochen far above. Countless tunnels branch off in every direction.
“Where do they go?” Nubina whispers, edging closer to her father’s side.
“Passages to other realms. In the Thielian tongue, we know them as the Thirteen Hells. We stand at the gateway where darkness prevails, and even darker things reign.”
The Umbal crawl along the chamber walls, scratching and raking with their sharp claws, spewing vile chitters and chattering through their shattered jaws.
The mage glances back at Jain and Nubina. “The Umbal fear all light; with The One’s blessing, we shall pass unchallenged.” Lord Varesh takes a tentative step forward, his glowing eyes never leaving the crawling walls where the Umbal writhe like maggots, feasting on a rotten corpse. “As long as the light holds, the Umbal will steer clear of our path.”
Countless vacant, inky black eyes reflect his bold blue beam as he enters the enormous subterranean chamber. The trio proceeds, venturing into the suffocating darkness. They appear as tiny specks of luminous blue in a chamber as vast as the towering mountains above. The stone beneath their feet is as flat as a paved road, and the path ahead is a wall of impenetrable blackness. Moments stretch into eternity as their echoing steps are accompanied by the scuttling of countless legs stalking them as the Umbal’s ungodly squelches slither at their heels.
A faint copper light breaks through the endless darkness ahead, and Lord Varesh quickens his stride toward the light. It grows brighter until Jain realizes it’s a gentle reflection of their own radiant light.
Jain comes to an abrupt halt, holding his breath. The giant, copper-colored stone eye of a dragon, meticulously hewn into ancient rock, looms above him, its intense stone gaze fixed on their nervous approach.
Nubina gasps, her voice barely audible. “Ana.”
“Do not speak his name here,” Lord Varesh warns, approaching the enormous eye. “Old names hold power, even in a dormant state. His will still lingers, clinging to the slender threads of life.”
“It’s real,” Jain whispers, amazed. “I thought Danan was spouting holy drivel.” His eyes widen as he gazes into the coppery stone dragon's eye.
A large, ancient wooden chest sits beneath the eye, its rotten timber lid shut tight. Leaning against the ancient chest is a tall, roughly hewn wooden staff, unremarkable in appearance.
“The Elda Staff.” Lord Varesh approaches the staff, then clasps it with both hands, sighing in relief. He then perches on the dragon’s stone eyelid. “A lifetime of searching, and to think I have been so close to its discovery.”
“A bloody stick.” Jain holds his head in his hands. “We risked our lives on the rapids, surrounded by demons, for a bloody stick? I thought you promised treasure, not a decaying piece of wood.”
“This is not wood, Jain,” Varesh marvels at the staff. “It is crafted from star-glass, the rarest of all intelligent minerals.” He runs his hand along the smooth surface. “The Elda Staff may appear as wood because its purpose is pure and benign, but unlike wood, it will not break, splinter, or age with time. The tools of the Elim are forged from the very fabric of the stars, crafted with The One’s purpose. They are unbreakable by any mortal blade or craft. The power of The One resides within their very essence.”
“So, what does this stick do?” Jain furrows his brows. The sound of thousands of sharp nails clawing the cavern floor prompts Jain to move closer to the bright light of his sword.
“The Elda Staff is an amplifier. It harnesses the power of its wielder and channels it, making the wielder’s power even more formidable.” Lord Varesh mutters words in archaic Elimish, and the Elda Staff illuminates the world around them in a dome of rippling azure light.
The Umbal scream vile curses, fleeing from the staff's halo of light.
“What’s in the chest?” Jain shrugs, skeptical, and diverts his attention to something potentially more valuable.
“Open it and find out.” The mage gestures for Jain and Nubina to lift the lid.
Nubina runs her fingers over the ancient wooden chest. Once as bright as blood, the chest’s color faded to a somber shade of dull brown. Countless alchemical symbols adorn the weathered lid. She opens it in a cloud of dust.
Jain leans over Nubina’s shoulder, peering into the depths of the chest. The faint glimmer of bright metal winks back at him. He reaches into the chest and pulls out a fine silken robe and holds it up to the light. The pearly-colored robe shimmers like the inside of an oyster shell, its colors dancing and melding together as the fabric moves.
Jain rubs the fabric between his fingers. “It looks like silk but feels like polished steel.” Jain’s curious eyes sweep up and down the mystical robe before glancing at the mage, raising his eyebrows inquisitively. “So, what is it?”
“It is star-skin—the very fabric that cradles the light of a star.” The mage rises from his perch and strides toward the chest. “Do not be deceived by its fragile appearance; no blade can breach its protective barrier. Like star-glass, it molds itself to the wearer’s purpose.” His voice ascends with a faint smile. “This is a gift, for Danan.”
Jain shrugs and then stuffs the fabric into a pocket inside his trench coat. He then reaches into the chest and retrieves a small wooden box etched with ancient Elimish symbols. Jain blows a cloud of dust from the box lid, unbuckles the clasps, and peers inside. As the box lid opens, a light, as bright as ethereal starlight, shines from the box. The ring shines like a pearlescent oyster shell and ripples at his touch with light that moves with threads of energy. Jain peers inside, and he plucks a small ring from the box. He twiddles the ring between his finger and thumb and stares through the ring's center, utterly mesmerized.
“The rings of Elema,” Lord Varesh says with a hint of reverence. “Gifted by The One to the guardians of the Elim, forged from star-glass, the rings are the very essence of The One, designed to fit the purpose of the wearer.” Lord Varesh’s eyes glimmer with mischief. “This ring is for you, Jain.”
Jain stares in bewilderment at the enigmatic mage, then, with a shrug, slips the ring onto his finger. As he places it on his forefinger, an immediate surge of energy flows through him, pulsating with an ethereal glow.
The ring awakens, and tendrils of living plasma extend from it, intertwining with Jain's skin and knitting with his body. The conscious plasma swirls around Jain's body, sentient and forging a bond in a dazzling display like that of the birth of a star. The celestial plasma wraps around him in pulsating bursts of energy, the air thrumming with power and rippling like a mirage. The ring's light begins to take shape, forming a second skin of armor around Jain's entire body with a pristine white ceramic surface. The armor, sleek and reflective, mirrors the world around him. As the armor covers him, the sounds of the transformation plunges into a sonic symphony of cosmic whirls and static charges as the armor clicks and locks into place. Each plasma tendril attaches to Jain with a precise snap, creating a protective shell up to his neck.
Jain stands in stunned silence, mouth agape, as his eyes fixate on the resplendent armor, radiating the lustrous sheen of a polished white ceramic mirror. He tests the responsiveness of his star-glass armor, gliding his forearm before his eyes as the air resonates with a subtle hum. Jain gazes at his gauntleted hands as he flexes his fingers with mechanical finesse.
“The armor of the Elema,” Lord Varesh exclaims with a burst of excitement, followed by a hearty laugh. “You are the first guardian in two thousand great cycles to be graced with such a gift. There is not a blade mortal or forged by shadow that can penetrate it.”
The mage's gaze drifts to Nubina, who stands in muted silence. “I wonder,” he muses to himself, “not all rings possess the same bond; some Elema are gifted with armor, others increased awareness or abilities.”
Jain finally finds his voice. “It’s light as air, yet it feels—” He struggles to find the right word.
“Alive,” Nubina says, finishing Jain’s thoughts. She leans over the small box in Jain’s hand, plucking a ring with a wide-eyed grin. Closing her eyes, she slips the ring on her finger, and the tendrils of conscious star-glass form into plasma tendrils that envelop her entire body. The ethereal light engulfs her in a pulsating thrum as she undergoes her metamorphosis.
Nubina stands beside Jain in matching star-glass armor, two celestial pillars of brilliant ceramic white.
Jain gazes into the small wooden box, counting each ring. "Thirteen," he mutters, a frown creasing his forehead.
“They are for the other Elema,” Lord Varesh explains. “You must take them with you, Jain. The rings are drawn to their wearer; trust your instincts, even when your mind is troubled or led astray.”
Jain, looking puzzled, searching for a place to store the rings. He begins patting his legs and arms, as if trying to locate a misplaced object. Upon tapping his right bicep, the star-glass armor responds, rippling like liquid mercury and expanding into a tiny compartment, just large enough for a small dagger. “Ha, I knew it,” he declares with a smug grin, as he transfers the rings from the box into the liquid mercury-like pouch.
“Luck.” Nubina says, nudging past Jain, her hands emerging from the chest with a pair of matching scimitar blades. Her eyes dance in amazement as she traces her armored fingertips along their razor-sharp edges.
Nubina passes one blade to Jain, who weighs it with a puzzled expression as he marvels at the craftsmanship, staring in wonderment at the intricate glyphs and runes carved into the decorative hilt and razor-edged blade. Bright white lights shine from precious stones embedded in the scimitar’s hilt. “What are they?”
“Nebulite,” Lord Varesh declares, his eyes sparkling as brightly as the embedded precious stones. “Each nebulite stone holds the essence of its nebula and is a perfect reflection of its astral origin. The Blades of Elamon are embedded with nebulite and forged from the same star. The scimitars are twins, and their power amplifies when wielded together, making them the rarest intelligent blades.”
“Let’s see what she can do.” Jain flourishes the nebulite scimitar with a flick of his wrist, and as it spins between his fingers, the air resounds with an angelic choir. He stops, amazed, and then grins with childlike excitement. Jain dances, spinning as the singing blade comes alive, no longer silver but a radiant beam of white light slicing through the pitch-black darkness. The air sings, alive with distant angelic voices, and power pulses around his armored body in a mirage of white ripples.
The skulking Umbal shriek in retreat, but a low, rumbling groan as rough as clattering boulders freezes Jain to a sudden halt.
He hands the nebulite scimitar back to Nubina, who, wearing a slight frown, positions the scimitar blades over her shoulders and onto her back. She playfully winks at Jain as the blades seamlessly slot into place, magnetizing themselves in an X-cross on her back.
“Time is pressing; you must hurry; the treasures of the Elim do not remain unguarded.” Lord Varesh sighs, sorrow in his eyes.
Nubina delves deeper into the chest and retrieves a pair of narrow daggers, their blades as slender as needles. Fragments of cosmic nebulite shimmer from their simple hilts.
“The blades of Elan.” Mischief twinkles in the mage’s eyes. “They pierce even the toughest hides and illuminate the darkest nights.” Nubina spins the needle-sharp dagger between her fingers, and the air whistles, singing, with bright flashes of white starlight that slice through the darkness. She then attaches them to her armor outer thighs, magnetized and locked into the armor with a precise click.
Jain reaches into the chest and retrieves a broadsword with a blade of pure star-glass and a hilt crafted from a single piece of crafted azure nebulite. The luminous blade ignites at his touch, radiating a bright white glow brighter than that of the Great Moon, and stands of cobalt plasma knit with his armored gauntlet as they become a singular entity, united in understanding. In that instant, the bond is forged.
“I believe this one is for you, Jain,” the mage nods in approval.
A crash of colossal stones and the sound of drawn steel halt Nubina in her tracks. She turns to face Lord Varesh, and a silent conversation flows between them. Nubina hangs her head, and her tears flow.
“This is farewell, Lord Jain of House Adair.” The mage perches once more on the dragon’s stone eyelid, his shoulders sagging.
“Farewell?” His new broadsword hums as he stands speechless in a halo of brilliant white light.
“This is where my purpose ends.” The mage’s words carry deep sorrow. “We all have a purpose, Jain. You must protect Danan with your life. Stand by his side, guide him, and keep him in the light.”
“Danan?” Jain furrows his brow in puzzlement. “Of course I will, but I don’t understand.” Jain spins to face Nubina, who lowers her head, sobbing. “What’s going on?”
“Danan is my son.” The mage’s words strike Jain like a tidal wave.
“Your son?” Recognition dawns in Jain’s widening eyes. “You brought me here to protect Danan. All this time, it wasn’t for you, but for him.”
“Danan is the last Elim.” Lord Varesh rises, unblinking, his eyes flashing with rising power. “As a child, I entrusted him to The Order of the One, concealing his purpose so that he could live a normal life.”
“How?” Jain stands still as a stone statue, in disbelief.
“I used the power of the Athanas Stone to cloak Danan’s abilities,” the mage sighs, burdened by the weight of the world. “He is unlike any other Elim, for both my light and his mother’s shadow live within him.” The mage’s voice tapers into a whisper. “A father’s love bound him, and a father’s fear concealed his truth.”
“You can tell him yourself.” Jain glances at his bright white blade. “This place gives me the creeps; it’s time we left this wretched hole.”
“No, Jain,” the mage says, growing in stature and pulsating with blue energy. “This place is a festering wound in the world.” His electric blue eyes crackle as his voice grows into a commanding boom. “Such wickedness cannot endure.” As the mage speaks, a ball of bright blue light engulfs him, his eyes fixed beyond Jain and Nubina, focused on a growing wall of shadow. “Go.” His voice lashes out like an icy, violent wind.
Jain gathers as many blades as he can carry, attaching small daggers and throwing stars onto his magnetized armor. He conceals smaller and unknown objects within a second pouch on his left bicep. He holds his new, rippling broadsword in his right hand.
Lord Varesh places the Elda Staff into Jain’s left hand. “Take the Elda Staff to Danan; it belongs to him.” The mage faces his anguished daughter for the last time. “Nubina, throughout the ages of my life, you have been my greatest joy. Danan is your brother; your bond is stronger than any blood bond. Do not dwell on pity or loss. We all serve a purpose.”
Nubina chokes on her tears as unspoken words pass between them; reluctantly, she nods in final acceptance. She reaches into the chest and takes another pair of daggers and a hunting bow, which she rests, magnetized, over her shoulder.
The swirling wall of sinuous shadow rushes toward them, and then from the wave of shadow steps a body taller than five men, black as the cavern’s abyss. The demon’s body is slick with dripping black mucus, reflecting the glowing lights of their blades. Its spindly limbs, half shadow, half flesh, are as long as two men. A giant hand drags an enormous, crude black blade, tall as three men. A faceless, oval head sits atop the narrow, gangly body. More spider than man, the demon scuttles forward on its arms and legs, then stops. The demon’s hideous, eyeless face looms over the mage from the parting wall of writhing shadows.
“Elim,” a voice like a rockslide, echoes from around the chamber. “You have no authority here.”
The sound of wicked Umbal clicking and chittering through razor-sharp teeth reverberates through the cave.
The arcane mage grows in stature as bright blue plasma light envelops them. “I am Varesh, Wielder of the Light, Son of Nirtesh, Grand Elim, and Guardian and Protector of Avos. Return to the deep.” The air thrums with power as Lord Varesh's authoritative voice booms his command, shaking the entire cavern.
“I am Azgorath, guardian of the path between realms, and you have no power here.” The demon steps forward with long, gangly strides toward the mage.
Nubina steps into the demon’s path, her gleaming scimitar blades in her hands, which thrum with power and shine with otherworldly angelic light.
“No,” the mage’s voice says, shaking the cavern chamber to the core. “This is not your purpose.” He places a loving hand on Nubina’s shoulder, silent words pass between them, and she drops her guard. Grief is the heaviest burden; carry it, and it will crush you. Let me go
Nubina turns to Jain. “We must leave. Now.”
“No. I think I’ll stay and repay my debt to my friend.” Jain glances up at the towering demon, licking his lips as he assesses the odds. “Besides, I’ve killed uglier fuckers.”
“Thank you, my friend.” The mage shakes his head. “But this really is one fight, even you cannot win.” Lord Varesh places a loving hand on Jain's shoulder then gives him a warm hug, clasping him tight, as if he’s his own son.
Jain stands in limbo, torn between fight and flight. He turns to face Nubina, who shakes her head. She holds the scimitars, pulsating in ethereal white light. Her eyes drift back to the depths of the chamber, her muscles tense, preparing for flight. Nubina casts a final glance at her father and nods farewell.
“This is my domain, and all will remain.” The demon’s voice cuts through the thickness of the abyss as thousands of scuttling Umbal encircle them. Their wicked words rasping through their vile teeth.
The Elda Staff pulsates in Jain’s hand and then blasts a giant beam of pure white starlight throughout the chamber. Jain shields his eyes and attaches his broadsword to his back.
The Umbal shriek and curse in retreat, fleeing back to the darkest of shadows as the enormous demon shields itself from the light with a thunderous roar.
“Go.” Lord Varesh, the Great Elim, steps forward and throws an immense wave of blue plasma power at the demon.
The blast of energy smashes against Azgorath’s body like a raging river against an immovable boulder.
Jain and Nubina sprint through the pervasive darkness. Their star-glass armor responds to their flight with a synchronicity that blurs the line between the physical and the ethereal. Their senses are amplified as the armor covers their faces with second-skin helmets with a full-face jet black nebulite visor, reflecting the black world around them.
The horde of Umbal attacks, the armor reacts instinctively, repelling the Umbal with a shimmering field of energy that emanates from the armor. The Umbal, drawn to darkness, recoil from the radiant light of the armor as tendrils of charged plasma energy surge through their shadowy forms.
Jain at the fore, through his nebulite visor, perceives the Umbal with unparalleled clarity, anticipating their every move and attack. The beam of light from the Elda Staff clears their path on all sides as he twirls the staff in a whirling figure-eight motion, weaving the staff through the air, tracing a continuous infinity symbol. His movements are swift as shooting starlight, a seamless blend of offense and defense in a blur of fluid grace. The Elda Staff cuts through the air, creating a thrumming sound—a low-pitched tone that harmonizes with the singing of an angelic choir. Jains body becomes a blur as he pirouettes like a living tornado, his footwork synchronized with each rotation, and the Elda Staff, intercepts the Umbal’s incoming attacks, deflecting them away, whipping tails of white light in every direction, slicing through the Umbal bodies, causing their bodies to explode in showers of ethereal rain and gore, which splatter on the cavern walls and floor.
Nubina, at the rear, becomes a celestial whirlwind in the darkness, her movements a graceful fury as she carves through the darkness with her nebulite scimitar blades.
As the Umbal encircle her, Nubina channels her energy, and in a single fluid motion, she sweeps a figure-eight motion of each scimitar, which traces a radiant arc in the air, leaving streaks of ethereal light in her wake.
The Umbal lunges towards her, and Nubina responds with a swift pirouette. Her blades, an extension of her being, slice through the Umbal's form, decapitating their shadowy heads and cleaving their umbra limbs. The nebulite blades sing with each slice and whirling attack.
The Umbal then attack in a wild frenzy, and Nubina shifts seamlessly between offensive and defensive; her footwork is nimble, gliding through the shadow hordes, her blades a blur, a tempest of light that hews and guts shadowy demons with precise strokes in a chaotic symphony of celestial light.
The Umbal explode around her in fountains that rain down torrents of glittering gore.
Jain and Nubina reach the narrow passageway, and the great chamber behind them falls into a lonely silence.
The darkness steals the light.