Kieran's chest burned with an ephemeral, illusory pain, a memento of the scars he had once suffered, which now remained branded into his psyche — an experience he could be unshackled from.
If he wished to be.
There were many things the young Fiend wished for, but to be free from Adeia's didactic scarring was not one. If he could recall her intent, movements, and flawless grace when striking, it could help elevate his skill with the blade to an entirely new level.
Aside from gleaning information from her physical strikes, there was also the intent woven within, which Kieran now recognized as a facet of her Godsend — another term Kieran had learned from talking with Cardinal Weiss.
The Cardinal imparted fragmented information, leaving Kieran to make intelligible guesses, but he couldn't tell how accurate his hypothesis was.
Nevertheless, he arrived at two possible means.
Godsends were either the archaic name for Classes and Legacies, both bearing an uncanny likeness that led to Kieran's general array, or they were mysterious gifts received from patron Gods — Endless, Kieran gathered until proven wrong or his conjectures affirmed.
Both inferences held some weight, but Kieran felt there was far more to it. His perspective was too simplistic and narrowed. To take a better guess, he required broadened horizons.
As he rubbed his chest, the vestiges of that illusory burn vanished, receding to the depths of his psyche from whence it came.
Kieran watched Adeia approach, regarding her current appearance with subtle amazement. The inferior simulacrum of Adeia he faced inside the War Phantasmagoria portrayed its role of inferiority with sublime precision.
The current Adeia was frugal in how she moved, all her movements acting in unison to swiftly arrive at the desired outcome. Those were the diluted principles Kieran recalled from clashing swords with her.
'So much of her battle knowledge was… lost. Or maybe she was hampered by her conditions? Then again, was that even the true Adeia I faced. This one…'
Adeia's silken hair fell in a jet-black cascade matching the descent of a starless night, contrasted starkly against her tawny-peach skin. Her icy-blue eyes burned with arctic flames, granting her a strange, glacial temperament that hid fire beneath its thin sheets.
And across her tapered waist was her trusted odachi, razor-sharp and forged from a black metal of incredible luster and resilience. Her impassive gaze stalked the Fiends, regarding them with emotion near contempt but overshadowed by vigilance and an alacrity fueled by hostility.
It didn't take much analysis to understand why she was hailed as the Daughter of War. As she approached in her raven armor, bearing a sparse resemblance to the armored colossus in the War Phantasmagoria, Kieran felt like he had stepped into the purview of a goddess of war.
He didn't recoil or overreact, though. He had to uphold a particular image as the Great Firebearer and commander of the Fiends at his rear.
Once beside Aerys, Adeia's gaze kept sweeping over the Fiends until it came full circle, settling on Cardinal Weiss and Kieran, who served as their vanguard.
Unlike Aerys, Adeia was more forthcoming, getting right to the point.
"What is your purpose for coming to this ruined battlefield? Do you have any designs of sabotaging our efforts?"
The Cardinal Weiss stood calmly before answering with an expression steeped in noncommittal disregard.
"These are our Lands. We need not have a reason to come here other than to ensure our fate remains. Do with that what you will."
Kieran looked at Cardinal Weiss with subtle surprise, intrigue, and amusement dancing in his sinister eyes. The leader of fanatics was strangely unskilled in the tactfulness of diplomacy. There were hostile undertones and instigative vocabulary that could easily foment the flames of conflict.
But, the outcome Kieran dreadfully expected did not come to bear. After all, his understanding of the situation and the reputation of the men and women surviving inside the Land of Ruins were pitiful.
They had long since abolished the ambiguous language employed by diplomats and other shifty nobles. Theirs were just as austere and spartan as their conditions — hard times tempered folk and those tempered folks were severe.
"As wild as the rumors suggest. Very well. If your motive is to defend the land, then you're welcome to join in the efforts. The Followers are spread thin, so I won't spurn the assistance."
As she spoke, Adeia noticed Kieran's gaze boring into her. It was a piercing gaze she seldom felt, ushered by a bevy of emotions she didn't have time to dissect and identify.
"Is there a reason for your fervent gaze?"
The Cardinal glanced in Kieran's direction, then gave a meaningful smile and answered in his place.
"Our Unspoken is young, and a fire burns in him like any other virile man. Perhaps you have inspired the embers to become an inferno. However, do not expect a response from him. His fate involves the condemnation to never speak."
Adeia gazed lingered on Kieran, regarding him in a contentious and curious way before shaking her head. His scarred throat fell into her focus.
"You wild men and your strange ways."
Cardinal Weiss found her comment ironic, leading to his swift rejoinder.
"You follow War, but you label us strange?"
That thought had bothered Kieran, too, as did a swarm of other things.
"It is not strange to follow War. Conflict is a necessary fire, for its crucible forges us to withstand our greatest challenges. War prepares, and it culls the needless. We are all proud to be of War and Flame. Careful what you speak, or your presence can soon become unwelcome."
Adeia's presence brimmed with a warlike intensity, her aura sharpening like a blade ready to cut its nearest foe. But she did not unleash it, leaving her threat sheathed but ever-present and laying in wait to be released.
Kieran's initial interest in their war with words was scarce, seeing as he couldn't offer his input, but towards the end, it blossomed into rightful suspicion.
Adeia's logic unsettled him.
It bore too many unnerving resemblances to the Flame's twisted logic, yet she lacked the markers of a Fiend. How could that be so?
Was there an overlap in the Domain of Gods? But if that were true, the purpose of a God or Endless' Dominion over a Domain would be trivialized by the presence of many parallel authorities.
Unless…
'Flame… are you the Endless of War?'
A heavy silence ensued between Kieran and his sinister patron until hateful venom seared his mind.
"That insane fellow?! I could never be the Endless of War. No way, no how. Uh uh. He is far too crazy and demented for my liking. I'd much rather remain myself. I can break things far better than that simpleton could."
Despite the Flame's denial, Kieran couldn't relinquish that suspicion from his mind. On the contrary, the Flame's adamant repudiation fed into his skeptical conjectures.
After all, the Flame had repeated the phrases: "of War and Flame" and instilled the principles of each word into the Fiends. The similarities were too striking, too congruent for Kieran to dismiss.
So, he wouldn't.
His musing, however, could only continue for a short time.
The Ravaged Plain was soon teeming with activity, every footfall of the Followers of War followed by transport of rations and many other items needed for war.
Seeing these men and women ferry logistical items into that strange fortress in droves roused Kieran's interest.
What secrets lay tucked away in that massive fortress? Better yet… how could it sit in place of a missing mountain?
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