Private Tales Survival of the Fittest.

[Aeyliea]

Her skin held a bloodless pallor to it that no one would ever have seen (save perhaps the fellow that had saved her from the corruption in her blood). Wide eyes regarded everything again, unable to believe what it was she was seeing.

"Divine," she said. The way she said it did not make it sound like it was a good sort of divine, though. The abject terror she exuded was completely out of place on one of her kind, blooded and storied warriors one and all. Superstition was definitively worthy of such dread.

"Not know," she managed. "Must break the glam," she added. Touching upon her own arcane abilities, she recoiled. The similarity between what they were snared in and the source of her own power would have unsettled her even further, were that possible.

She had barely answered him when a breathy whisper floated through the air. Or, perhaps, implanted itself directly in their minds. Not real? Delusions. Lies. The sensation of something moving about in the back of their minds. Matricide. Usurpation. Aeyliea realized, after a moment, that the words she heard in her head were in a language she did not know, but the meaning of the words still managed to be understood despite this. It did not make the situation any better.

Silence again. Around them, the people went about their business. They spoke in the same language as the voice in her head did. A pair, man and woman, walked through Brandr on their way to the wide steps leading down into the earth, a prong horn bound to a pole between them. The scent of herbs and spice, almost incense-like, wafted through the air despite the ephemeral nature of the No'rei heading down.

"You, magic. Can dispel?" Her tone was plaintive but not especially hopeful. She could not break this spell, and she doubted that he could either.

 

[Brandr]

"Divine? Gods?" Brandr sneered with skepticism, his fear escalating as he grappled with the profound implications of their situation. A sharp intake of breath caught in his chest as the unsettling realisation dawned on him they had not escaped the ominous voice that haunted his mind, and the ethereal figures passing through him sent an unsettling shudder through his bones.

"My magic is no use here," he confirmed to Aey, frustration and fear intertwining in his eyes. Even the shadows held no solidity in this strange place. He felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he had never experienced before. What had he unwittingly stumbled into? Turning to observe the approaching figures near the mine, his brow furrowed with unease, Brandr wondered if they had crossed into another realm or traversed some enigmatic void within the depths of the mine. Fear anchored him in place, memories of the mine echoing in his mind and locking him in the grip of uncertainty and foreboding.

"You must know what all of this is, Aeyliea," he growled with frustration, his gaze narrowing on her. "These are your people. Your Gods. What the fuck do they want?!" His voice rose with tension, the question not merely directed at her but a challenge thrown into the abyss for the 'gods' who seemed to be toying with them.

 

[Aeyliea]

"Not know," she said. It was a simple truth, but simple was often best. She looked round them with wild eyes, mind racing and gears turning. This was demonic magic. It had to be, for she had never felt any magic quite like this before. Often it was cold, or hot, and always it was violent and insistent.

This was cool and serene. Beneath the placid surface, though, a strong current ran. It was too strong, overwhelming anything she had ever felt before now. The flavor was strange, alien - just like the illusion wrapping round her and Brandr's minds.

...memory...

The word is a whisper in both of their minds - a whisper in Brandr, a roar in hers. That feeling of winding in intensified.

She looked round again. Nothing of note was happening here, other than No'rei going about their business. But there was something wrong, here. At first it was not possible to put her finger on it. At first. But after a minute of watching, it dawned on her what was wrong.

There was no fighting. The people here did not have the same edge of hardness she had come to expect from her people. They were all armed, yes, but they did not have the scars. They did not look at one another as though each and every one of their brothers and sisters were enemies to be wary of. There was a sense of peace threading through this so-called memory.

Why would a demon show her something like this?

"Look... soft. Easy in the company of others." She watched as a man carrying a bundle of spear staves ran into another who was not looking where they were going, spilling his load. Both helped pick the other up, and then gather the dropped items.

Aeyliea wore her bafflement openly.

"What is this?"

A short, jarring sense of wrongness rolled through both of them. Nothing changed - except, on the horizon, dust. On the horizon, shapes flying in the sky. Aeyliea lifted a hand, and pointed skyward in question, but it was not long before the shapes resolved themselves.

Anger tainted the waking dream. Dragons. Those were dragons on the horizon, flying over the dusty cloud of a raiding party.

 

[Brandr]

Aeyliea's admission that she did not know caused another growl of frustration to rip from his chest as he paced like a caged animal. He glared at her, his eyes searching for answers that even she couldn't provide. The sense of vulnerability hung heavily in the air, like a fog obscuring the truth.

He could feel the unsettling currents of magic tugging at his senses. It was a different kind of magic, one that defied the violent and insistent nature he was accustomed to. Cool and serene on the surface, yet with an undercurrent that surged with an intensity beyond anything he had ever encountered. The illusion wrapping their minds felt alien, a strange flavour that left him uneasy.

'Memory.'

The word whispered through his mind in a gentle echo, the sensation of being tormented intensified, leaving Brandr with a disconcerting feeling of intrusion. "Whatever the fuck you are, stay out of my fucking head." he barked at something he could not see nor understand.

Aeyliea's observations of the serene scene unfolded more questions than answers. Aeyliea's bafflement mirrored Brandr's own confusion. "So what?" he asked, staring through the people milling about here and there. That she was surprised by it made it clearer that this was not normal to her. Memory. "It's the past?.."

His gaze followed as Aeyliea pointed toward the horizon, her question hanging in the air until the distant shapes became unmistakable, and Brandr's jaw clenched as the surreal scene took a dark turn. The vision of peace shattered, replaced by the ominous presence of dragons, symbols of chaos and destruction.

"Well, I hope they're part of the illusion.." his brow furrowed with concern, and yet there was a boyish awe that overcame him at the sight of such creatures he'd only ever heard myth of. Some of those around them had yet to notice, and the urge to tell them to run was overwhelming, and pointless..

 

[Aeyliea]

It wasn't long before the mnemonic apparitions noted the approach of the wyrms, but their response to the approach ran counter to what was expected. Some noted their approach with the expression of the every day and the ordinary - nothing of note, their expressions said as the went about their business. Others wore a kind of awe on their faces that was usually reserved for matters divine. It was clear that these were their gods made manifest, and before long it was easy to see why.

These wyrms were enormous. A flickering memory of the bone and dry-rotted flesh and scales below did nto do these beasts any justice at all; Aeyliea could count them. Six of them.

Six plus one. The Seven. She shivered involuntarily at the realization as the six that approached - each as big as a house and more - flew in. The litany of their names ran through her mind - Rath, Garth, Kosin, Mison, Lochin, and greatest of all, Tiam - and swirled in the maelstrom of her religious awe. The largest of them, nearly the size of a castle, swung round and stopped, hovering on magically enhanced wings miles out on the Sea. The other five, His children, continued. The roiling cloud of dust continued, but it would be some time before they reached this place.

The dragons continued on, outpacing their No'rei companions, soaring with deceptive speed. Moments later, the first flew over, low and fast enough to raise a cloud of dust in its passage, and then swiftly the others came.

Only then did the denizens of this camp, or town, or whatever it was, start to show concern.

Lorien, a great voice rolled through their minds. An echo of the past, but even thousands of years of time could not make the dread wyrms voice anything less than threatening. Tiam threw his great horse-like head back, and roared. You will join us, Mother? Or will you try my patience again?

Aeyliea blinked in confusion, dread. What was this?

Rumble of earth, Scaled No'rei boiling out of the cavern mouth at the heart of the town, and then a silver scaled dragon, different in some ways from those that circled and the Great One that waited beyond. Lorien, the Mother. It was easy to see why she was considered moon-aspected, with scales the color of moonlight.

The great beast opened her mouth, but the words were in the mind. No. This world is not ours. Your greed will be the undoing of all of us, Tiam. Head turned sideways so one great reptilian eye could glare across the miles.

No. No, no, no. Aeyliea mouthed the words over and over as though it could change what she was seeing. Amusement oozed through the magic that held them in its grip. This is not real. This is not the Truth. Just a demon, harbored in her soul and making her see fantasy.

Then so be it, the great wyrm intoned.

Rage swelled. The image before them shattered into a million pieces. Flickering images of the beast descending upon the great mother assailed her, assailed Brandr too. The silver one was driven back into the earth where she had come from, waves of magic the likes of which have not been seen since pounding the Sea, slashing at her children, at Tiam.

Vain. All in vain. She was one, and they were six. Broken and bleeding, torn and spent, Lorien retreated into the earth and pulled the ceiling of the passage in down behind her. Triumphal screams of dragons...

...and then the slaughter of the witnesses began, first those present and with the aid of those riding in. And then the ones who rode within the dust and slew their kin, they too were slain to the very last.

Aeyliea was screaming. She did not know when she started, but when the magic shattered and the images vanished and they were left outside in the torrential, freezing rain, she simply fell to her knees and kept on screaming.

"Lies! Lies! They were the ones that betrayed," she shrieked, and stabbed a finger in Brandr's direction. Outsider, betrayer, traitor, liar. She felt her world shattering, the foundation of her belief eroding beneath the assault of the dead ones' memories.

...for love of power, forsook the world. For greed, slew their own Mother...

...lies of the children...

...lies...

The ancient one fell silent, spent from the effort of revelation. Aside from the sound of the cold rain and the repetitive negation from Aeyliea, who still refused to believe that this was the truth, the world fell quiet and still.