“I will... follow...” I mutter, my voice trembling under the mountainous weight of Scarn lifting from my shoulders.
“Now, now.”
The voice cuts through the air, sharp and mocking, stealing the words from my lips. Laughter—cold and derisive—reverberates through the hall, drawing every gaze to the brown-robed figure standing beside Jazreal.
“Corrupting the minds of the naïve youth, Elder Harkus?” The figure tuts, clicking his tongue with exaggerated disdain. “Such poor sport, even for someone mired in false confidence as you.”
With deliberate ease, the figure lowers his hood, revealing a face twisted into a sinister grin: Ignixis.
Shocked murmurs ripple through the hall, none louder than the sharp intake of Harkus’s breath. His eyes widen, his weathered face ashen, as though a netherworld spawn had risen from the steam-filled air.
“Elder Ignixis?” Harkus mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. Then it hardens. “No. You lost the right to that title when your cowardice drove you from the Council of Elders in disgrace.”
Ignixis’s grin widens, a flash of deadly delight. “I shed that title as a vipertail sheds its skin,Elder.” He spits the word with venom. “But in your blind ignorance you only ever saw what I wanted you to see. It was not cowardice that moved me, but Arawnoth’s molten will—his sacred words.” His glowing green eyes flare in the dim light, locking onto the towering statue that looms above.
“Half-mad fanatic!” Harkus snarls, waving a dismissive hand. His voice drips with contempt. “You and Garzum both. You can no more divine Arawnoth’s will than I can Machsin or Dagdorix’s.” He jabs a finger toward me, his anger bubbling over. “Is this what you’ve been poisoning his mind with? Lies about glorious destinies? Eternal glory? While our people teeter on the brink of oblivion?”
His gaze narrows, his expression a storm of fury and accusation. “You’re working with the Scythians—like Zyraxis was. It’s the only explanation.”
My mind reels at the accusation, the storm of doubt and confusion raging within me—a tempest that leaves me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Around me, my fellow Magaxus kin mirror my turmoil, their mouths agape, their eyes darting frantically between Harkus and Ignixis.
“Arawnoth strike me down!” Ignixis recoils, clutching his chest as though pierced by a spear. His tone drips with mock agony. “Such profane accusations you fling so flippantly,ElderHarkus,” he sighs, stooping to scoop a clump of ash. He presses it into his forehead in a theatrical gesture to ward off curses. “I speak no lies—only the truth, Arawnoth’s truth! Can you not see the meaning burned into my very flesh?”
With a flourish, Ignixis pulls back the sleeves of his robe, revealing spiraling, twisted runes branded across every inch of his skin.
“You play the fool well, Ignixis. I’ll give you that,” Harkus retorts, his tone steady and claw-sharp. “We both know those runes are ancient tenets, not some divine revelation.”
“To your ignorant eyes,” Ignixis snarls, his blackened lips curling into a yellow-fanged smirk. “But to mine, they blaze with his divine providence! He commanded me to guide young Dracoth. That is why I left the Council. Why I instill wisdom into his thick skull. Why I’ve led him—and will continue to leadhim—on the path of glory. Arawnoth demands it! We are the children of the Gods. Our very nature is their will. To deny this is to defy them! And death—eternal damnation to the netherworld—awaits those too soft to stay the course. For those—”
“You’re completely insane, Ignixis,” Harkus interrupts, his face pale with horror. “Arrest the disgraced Elder! He’s an outlaw, wanted by the Council of Elders,” he commands, his voice rising as he turns to the crowd.
But no one moves. Only the hissing magma fills the tense silence. The gathered Magaxus exchange uncertain glances. His desperation grows as his gaze sweeps across their faces.
“Elder Garzum?” Harkus’s voice cracks with disbelief as he turns to his fellow Elder. “As a brother, you must act!”
Garzum averts his crimson eyes, his silence speaking volumes.
Harkus’s gaze locks onto mine, his brown eyes wide with a pleading urgency. “Dracoth,” he implores, “give the command. Turn away from this path of destruction and hatred. Ally with Krogoth and find your mother.”
Doubt claws at my mind, twisting my insides like torn guts. To pursue the past, I must submit my future. Glory is not inherited—it is forged. My path must be my own, even if it is drenched in fire and blood.
Ignixis, sensing his imminent victory, titters with glee. “As much as we’ve enjoyed your... questionable company, Elder Harkus,” he sneers, “I must insist you remain here—at least until we’ve left Klendathor.” He gestures dismissively to the three Magaxus hunters. “Detain him.”
The trio exchange bewildered looks, their feet rooted to the stony ground. One shrugs, breaking the silence with a helpless gesture.
“Tiresome,” Ignixis sighs, his face twisting into a sneer. “How I long for the old days, when the young heeded their elders withrespect.” He turns to me, his glowing green eyes piercing into mine.
“Young Dracoth,” he coos, his voice soft yet insidious. “Have I ever led you astray? Have I not always delivered on my promises?” He spreads his arms wide. “Give the command. Now!”
“Don’t, Dracoth! He’s working for the Scythians!” Harkus shouts, his voice cracking with desperation—a final, anguished plea.
The weight of this moment presses down on me like the volcanic mountain surrounding us, an ancient force shaping the fate of the universe for eons. Peaceful servitude or a path that blazes with glory—a future forged by my own hand, carved through blood and death.
“Detain Elder Harkus,” I command, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. I sweep my hand toward the condemned Elder, his white beard trembling as his resolve crumbles.
Harkus falls to his knees, his hands digging into the hot ash and rocky ground, anguish etched into every line of his face. My Magaxus hunters move swiftly, surrounding him. They lift him with care, treating him with respect even as they bind his hands.
“Ah, an excellent choice, young Dracoth.” Ignixis chimes in with a beaming smile that twists his scorched face into something nightmarish.
