The Unfated Wanderers Canto 28
The battle was brief. Vilerend and Billet slew their foe with precision and expertise. They watched the life leave its body. A man joined their grim watch. The Unfated Wanderers looked at him. He wore silk clothing and his long black hair was free of tangle and his clean shaven, powdered face boasted a level of care and pampering that few on Linomnount could enjoy.
Their breath was taken by his stunning beauty. His visage was like the setting sun dashing vibrant orange, red and purple across the sky. His presence was the sudden jolt of life one feels when escaping from a sudden plunge over a cliff. They met his eyes and felt the yearning of new love and the virulent bitterness of soul souring hatred. He spoke and his voice danced upon the air. His word was a crushing weight. He spoke and they felt squeezed between every rock and tree, flattened beneath an avalanche, the weight of an entire world pressed on them and they struggled to breathe.
He said, “Oh, it is good to be in the Living World again.” He inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sigh. He continued, “The air is so… nourishing.” He plucked a weed from the ground and said, “Life is just so abundant. I love it!”
The strange man looked at the assembled People, even those concealed by the Staff of Unseeing. As his gaze landed on each Person, they felt a sense of violation, as though their souls were laid bare. Each felt as if he had appraised them and found them to be nought but a mewling infant, so unaware of the world as to even begin to comprehend their situation.
He said, “I have been confined to the Realm of Terrors for more years than I can count, for more years than you beasts can comprehend. I have not even feasted since the last Apocalypse. But my children have gathered such fineries for my board! I feel strength once again!”
He looked at the dead Darkling. For a moment, it looked as though he was grieving the loss of his child. But the glimmer of sadness in his eyes was replaced with a look of confusion. He looked around wildly as if he no longer knew where he was or what was happening. But the madness passed and he was once again in control of himself.
Fern Quickstream and a few Stormcrafters walked towards the location where the strange situation was unfolding. The man said, “Ah! Look, it is my favorite Person!” Fern knelt at his feet and said in greeting, “Lord of Terror.”
The Stormcrafters whispered nervously to each other. Aghast, Keeper of Lore said, “It is the God of Madness, the Lord of Feasts. He has come to our world. We are doomed.”
The Nameless, Benighted, Lord of Madness and Terror looked to your group and said, “Fern here has been working for me. She sought a way to kill the giants and in doing so, found her way to the Realm of Terrors. It was there that she found me. I taught her the magic she needed to kill giants.”
Fern said, “I thank you, my lord.”
He replied, “You are so very welcome. But your magic has rent the Confines. Did you not think this would happen?”
She stammered, “That is not what we agreed. I wanted to save the Living World.”
“And so you did! You saved it for me. Here is your reward!”
The Lord of Terror reached his hand into Fern’s chest. His hand passed through her flesh as if it were mist. When he withdrew his hand, he was holding a sphere of glowing white energy. Fearsome fright flickered on Fern’s face and then excruciating agony as her soul was severed from her still living body. She fell to her knees as the god devoured her soul, savoring the flavor as one enjoying a succulent fruit.
She whispered, “Why?”
He calmly answered, “You should have never trusted me.”
Fern and her Stormcraft cult left the hillside. The Lord of Feasts turned towards the Learned Scholars.
With a smile, he said, “Well! Shall we begin?”