The Ireza's Rise (AVTN) - Chapter 11

16/09/96 – 7:05am – The Ireza (Zarin’s Room)

"The last drop of the Holy one's blood would fall on to the ground, a simple song of bittersweet relief; for though life would been so much simpler, the world would all but suffer." Zarin lay back in his smooth, wooden chair, sighing quietly to himself as he finally noticed the sun's early rays warming the back of his neck through the window. He'd been reading all night, one of his favourite stories; one with an unsure ending. It seemed to be how his life had gone on, even in his supposed death two years ago. Nothing was set in stone; the words he now lived by.
The one to hear the words he recited was his own mother, who had been standing in the doorway for the past five minutes, leaning against the frame and smiling in his direction. He hadn't changed a bit in her eyes.
“Enjoying yourself?” She asked softly as the story concluded on that unsure line, a trademark of Drasaris’ writing. Zarin looked up with the widest of smiles and nodded enthusiastically, almost throwing the book to the side as he got up and hugged her tight and warm.
Returning that embrace with a motherly warmth, Vyra closed her eyes for a moment, revelling in a bonding warmth she hadn't had in years.
“What you did for Hyra and Karus... You keep making me prouder and prouder every day.” She praised him, running her hands through his thick blonde hair. “You're everything your father set out to be.”
A proud smile and Zarin nodded, stepping back and looking at her with bright, wide eyes.
“I'm glad you're here to see me like this. I missed you... And I'm sorry I left like I did last night.” He looked down for a moment, eyes misting over before he shook it out. “It's like it for everyone I know. I have to help people before I make myself happy.”
Vyra couldn't feel more heartwarmed, prouder of her son than this moment. In every way she saw his father, Aikarian, the old Hero echoing within him. The essence of everything she loved.
However, all good things had to end and professionalism took over, though the softer tones continued.
“Blayz wants to brief everybody today. A lot's happened and with the new Arcian situation, not to mention those soldiers, we have a lot to cover.” Vyra explained, holding out her hand for him to hold. “Come on, will you escort me?” She smiled with that loving face. “Please?”
A roll of the eyes and Zarin took her hand firmly, wary of the strength in his arm, and nodded. “I love you, mother. Promise you won't ever leave me again. Enarus is gone and he can't hurt you again.”
Zarin could swear he saw the slightest hint of uncertainty as they started to walk, and of course with him being as he was, he couldn't not follow it up. Asking his mother why she seemed to change so, he waited for her answer.
“Enarus... Isn't dead.”
The very colour drained from Zarin's face and he stopped right there, looking dead at her.
“What... No... It can't...”
The eyes returned as she turned round, though they weren't the happy mother's eyes they were before. They were sad, regretful.
“The company I worked with... When you killed Enarus, they took his body from the grave and... Revived him. He works under them now. I did my best to keep him off the Ireza's trail, but Eserah has already fought him.”
“What is it with my family and not staying dead...?” Zarin muttered, once more shaking and letting out a gasp as a revelation struck him like a brick. “Wait... That means my father... He might not be dead! What if he was brought back too? Mother we have to find him!”
“You shouldn't get your hopes up Zarin. I've been leading a group to find him for months now. There's been no sign of him.”
“But his grave, did you check that?” He challenged, gritting his teeth. She was hiding something. Again. And her eyes showed it.
“...We did. He wasn't there... But that doesn't prove anything.” She replied, turning to walk away once more, this time without her son. This time, straight to the conference room. “Don't keep Blayz waiting... Sparky.”

The last few steps to the conference room, though short, felt like an eternity to Zarin, his mother's use of his pet name hauntingly hurtful to him. It was like she'd all of a sudden lost something for him, a feeling, a love. Whatever it was, he wanted it back. Longed for it even. He knew that feeling wouldn't go away until he got it.
Pushing the door open, he heard the words of the briefing already being spoke, choosing just to stay put, too ashamed of his lateness and his apparent failing to approach the rest of the group. Everyone was there, and not one of them paid heed to his arrival.
“...Thanks to Vyra's assistance, we've identified these soldiers as SYNC, a small operation broken up a few years ago back when Aikarian was in charge. As far as she's told us, they're bigger and badder and we didn't even know it.” Blayz continued, the usual floating map of As'raea in the centre of the circular table with him stood there by it. The entirety of the map pulsed a foreboding red as it pointed out every danger zone imaginable.
Everything.
“For now, they and the Arcia seem to be at arms with each other. This gives us time enough to gather our own forces, figure out exactly what we're dealing with and play covert while we wait for them to wear each other down. I want them to think we're out of action, think we're too scared act.” He dropped his arm down and cast his gaze over the circle of Ireza. “Too weak to be worth a crap fighting. The perfect strategy.”
Eserah, sat in one of the more lone chairs in the circle, cleared his throat rudely and interjected.
“What about those two Draovans? Akyara, Asita... Aky's a nutjob and Asita's out there with him.”
A nod of admittance and Blayz shrugged. “I thought of that. We've lost two allies and gained yet another enemy. The annoying thing is, this enemy we can't kill and we can barely imprison. That and, with Enarus' return... We're in a bad spot, I'll admit. What we do have that they don't have, though, is versatility. They all seem to focus on one technical method of dispatching a foe. We study our opponent, and play to their weaknesses.”
Chuckling, Eserah nodded. “Riiiight. Doesn't take a genius. Enarus does nothing but go for the face, Arcia swarm the hell out of you. Akyara switches targets with every hit taken. We've got a SYNC member on our side.”
“But we don't know how to counter those!” Snapped Blayz, scowling at the man. “Shut the hell up and let the big boys talk, kay?”
Even Zarin frowned, concerned at this outburst. The stress was getting to him – to all of them. Each and every one of the Ireza, though most were already trained to go weeks without sleep, looked utterly exhausted. This entire ordeal was wearing them down.
With Eserah suitably disarmed, Blayz cleared his throat and continued his speech. “We’re out of our comfort zone. Where we usually play proactive, we now have to switch and let the enemy make the first move. Until then, we learn as much as humanly possible. As such I’ll be sending out stealthiest – Vyra, Flaime and Hyra – out on regular stealth missions. Until moves are made by the enemy, our fighters will be on regular training missions.”
He’d heard it all; all he needed to of course. Zarin finally spoke up during his pause and stood up straight, stepping forward.
“And what if they never attack? The Arcia, SYNC, Azirae, Enarus, what if they’re all faking it? What if they’ll never make a single move and let us let our guard down?”
Silence fell as he felt the eyes of the entire Ireza piercing him, this new revelation something that hadn’t even registered before he’d mentioned it. Nothing really did seem to make sense about how little they were attacked at their home, especially when a psychotic murderer like Enarus was active. Especially, in fact, with how weak in comparison the Ireza was.
“They’re evil and scheming. Even the Gods are lying to us. Why can we trust someone like the Arcia when even THEY’RE lying to us?” He continued, glancing over at the light-covered form of Karus. “You’re getting really careless Blayz. The old wars are coming back. They’re finding new Wielders, on top of the problems we already have. Something like that could break the Ireza apart. We have to stop them all before the wars start again.”
Scowling at being upstaged by a kid, the old leader or otherwise, Blayz hit the table hard with his hand, drawing attention back to him.
“So you expect me to send them all in on a suicide mission. Good idea!”
The sense of sarcasm wasn’t lost on Zarin, who made a beeline for the table and, rather than dutifully sit by it like was expected, leapt up on to it and bent down to Blayz’s eye level, sure to get right up in his face and lower his voice.
“You think this is easy?” He asked, fighting against the usual teeth-gritting, his eyes flashing a threatening red. “When I’ll be the one out there fighting my own family for the Gods, you guys’ll just be having a little argument about who’s the better God and breaking up over it! Don’t make this stupid mistake, because I’ll come for you first.”
Blayz didn’t seem shaken by this. He recognised that red flash; it was the Arcian curse, the curse laid upon Zarin two years ago that apparently hadn’t yet been cured, despite Uzura’s unobvious effort. He didn’t doubt, though, that there was an attempt there somewhere, and with a dismissive wave, Blayz decided it would be fine.
“Fine. Head a patrol to the old Arcian territory. This time, go as far as the shore, see if you can find where they’re coming from.”
More to say, Zarin straightened up and stepped around the table to stay close to the man he challenged.
“That’d be useless. They live in another… Well, I don’t know how to explain it. Rift? It’s like a doorway between loads of different dimensions. It’s how we bumped in to Akhrias.” He said, gesturing to the Zephyri that sat in a state of quiet contemplation. “Their leader lives there, guarding a giant crystal with the other Elite ones… Which reminds me, what about Vernus?”
“Working on it.” Blayz said, pointing to the centre of the map – the city. “We’ve nailed him down to the city. Because he doesn’t make a convincing Arcian what with not being able to use his natural powers, he’d blend in pretty well.”
“So we look for him.”
The next expression Zarin saw was a challenging smirk, Blayz’s arms crossing as he looking up at the boy. It was chilling, more chilling than a night in the same room as Enarus.
“You look for him.”

16/09/96 – 9:35am – Fel’ara City (Southwestern Districts

“Stupid Blayz, giving me the boring missions.” Zarin grumbled as he walked on down the cobbled, old-style streets of southwestern Fel’ara. The place was something special as far as the city’s different districts went, as it was the only place that hadn’t updated since the earlier centuries. It still exhibited architecture similar to Victorian England, having been originally designed by a group of refugees from that era and location.
It was by far one of Zarin’s favourite spots, being close to where he’d lived before having his parents killed before him. It reminded him of so much; the warm hugs, the hot dinners and the comfortable bed he’d often refused to leave on dull, cloudy mornings.
He’d left his sword behind for this mission, being in such a public place the fact he was wearing the robes of Uzura’s followers out in the open only just passable by itself; the younger Priests rarely had the time to venture outside with all the study.
As it turned out, he was headed specifically towards one of the minor City Temples, mainly to ask Uzura for a little help, but perhaps on the naively envisioned off-chance that Venus might have wandered there for some sort of forgiveness. The problem being, Uzura never forgave.
“There is no redemption, only punishment.” He repeated, over and over, his eyes closing as he recited that simple line. It was the first thing to be pummelled in to the head of any of Uzura’s followers, Priest or otherwise, and it seemed to take some of the heat away from him when it came to passers by having something to say about it.
After a few more minutes of tireless movement, Zarin halted before a very out of place structure. Instead of the stone and wood of the surrounding Victorian houses, it was built from a marble-like material, towering double wooden doors granting access to it. Windows were carved neatly in all sides but the opposite, the altar-side, and the building itself reached three floors tall, though it only contained one; the altar room. Where prayer to the God Uzura was performed, in a perfect, open and pure space.
Zarin grunted as he pushed the great wooden door open, slipping through silently in case there were already people in the place. As it turned out, the temple was completely empty, the light blue carpet down the centre of the room seeming to have been untouched by feet for days. That was new.
The room was quite spacious, with nothing but that carpet and a large raised altar much like the one in the temple in Yestria furnishing it. Generally those involved in prayer did so stood up on the stone surface of the floor either side of the carpet, but Zarin chose instead to slowly walk the soft carpeted path to the altar, his footfalls silent and peaceful.
Standing before the altar, he stopped, looking at the slab of purestone – enchanted marble purer than anything other than Uzura himself – and brought the lower part of arm across his chest, bowing his head down and closing his eyes, whispering quietly.
“Uzura, guide my mind, allow me to see the errors in the world, help me to fix the imperfections. Guide my blade to strike the wrong down, to end their pitiful lives. Guide my feet to walk your path from now until the end of my life. Protect me so that may not come soon.”
“Y-you think... the g-gods... care?”
Vernus. Spinning on his heels, Zarin opened his eyes and glared at the stumbling, robed figure that approached him. He was in a complete state, tired and broken.
With a nod, Zarin answered softly, the prayer having calmed him quite considerably. “I do. While Uzura might not make the best decisions, his way is still pure.”
“P-pure...” Vernus scoffed, breaking out in to laughter that echoed around the empty building. “Uzura is anything but pure!” He burst out before his eyes widened and he whimpered, stopping where he was and bowing his head, shaking violently. “No... y-you’re... you need to g-get out of th-this...”
"Is there something you're not telling me?" Asked Zarin, slowly descending the three short steps that the altar was raised upon, his eyes never leaving Vernus' terrified, trembling form. "Vernus, if it's something related to your problems, I want to help."
"P-problems..." Vernus stammered, starting to laugh madly to himself, almost falling to the ground as his legs seemed to give out for a second. "I'm a... f-failure... A-Arcia... Has no... U-use for me..."
As the two of them neared, Zarin had to take a step back as the Arcian fell forward, shaking and whimpering before he groaned out in pain and rolled on to his back, staring up at the barely visible, distant roof.
"I-it hurts... Th-this curse... It d-destroys you... From the inside..." He whispered, writhing on the ground and holding his stomach with more pained noises. "I... I c-can't take it... Zarin... K-kill me... D-do it now... If y-you truly..." He coughed and spluttered, heaving in a desperate breath. "Truly... B-believe in U-Uzura's... Path... Y-you'll do it..."
"Or I could save you." Zarin offered, eyes filled with pity. "I don't want to lose another person. I've seen too many people die." He continued as he slowly knelt before the Arcian, looking down at his pained face. "Feed on me, my life if you have to. Just leave enough for me to survive for a couple years longer."
Despite the sincerity in the boy's eyes, Vernus shook his head, whimpering like a dog. "N-no... I've done too much... Y-you’re stronger... You d-deserve to live...”
Zarin knelt there in silence, gazing down at the man he’d once called his enemy; the first Arcian to ever see sense – see that, though with his own reservations about the Gods, destruction would not have helped the situation. The only Arcian that wanted to help.
His gaze rose immediately as he heard the sound of the temple’s door closing with a bang. There Uzura stood, lighting the entire place up in a magical glow.
“Put him down, Zarin.” He commanded. “He’s caused too much death in his past to deserve life. He begs for death; though he deserves none of his wishes, death is still all that is owed to him.”
“Why do you want nothing but death?!” Cried Zarin, jumping to his feet and standing defiant. “Hyra, Karus, now Vernus...None of them deserve this!”
“You are growing far too insolent, boy.” Uzura rumbled, his voice flat but still with that sense of wrath he displayed the previous day as he drew his cyan blade, storming down the carpeted path. “Rethink your position very carefully; need or not, I will not stand for this. I’ve found myself in worse situations.”
“I’m not scared of you... God or not you’re still mortal!” Growled Zarin in return, stepping over his fallen former foe, flexing his gem-infused arm aggressively. “Why did you even choose me as your Wielder?! I hate your ways! If anything’s impure...” He slammed his fist down on the whitest gem in his arm, growling in pain as the chance overtook him, robes becoming silver, hardened armour as he made his charge. “...It’s you!”
“I gave you a second chance at life by saving you from your brother.” Replied Uzura, sidestepping the first charge briskly. “I gave you a third by saving you from yourself.” Another dodged charge and he quickly made a swing at Zarin’s ankles, which found its target admirably, slicing through the armour like butter and causing him to fall, unprepared. “Must I give you a fourth?”
Before Zarin had chance to return to his feet, Uzura placed his foot firmly on the boy’s back, leaving him struggling and flailing there on the ground.
“I cannot cure the Arcian curse, but I can do what I was originally reluctant to do.” He continued, raising his left hand in to the air. Light began to collect in his palm, purer than normal light, a higher sense of brilliance radiating from it. “I hereby suppress your free thought. You’ll become my warrior, as you were chosen. You will no longer be an insolent child.”
“No!”
That wasn’t Zarin. Uzura turned his head just in time to see a black, shadowy figure hurtling towards him. He had time enough to throw the ball of energy down at the child’s head and leap swiftly to the side, his agile nature playing to his strengths,
“What’s wrong, Vernus? I thought you hated your curse?” Uzura taunted, twirling his sword and following the shadow with his gaze, despite his mask blocking his vision. it was just a fear tactic, though Vernus seemed immune to it. His corporeal form had been lost, replaced by shadow. Corruption.
“Leave the child alone!” Vernus’ voice echoed with a false sense of bravery. “Or I’ll awaken the Arcia again!”
“You wouldn’t dare... but my task is complete.” Uzura said, sheathing his blade and turning his back on his foe. “Your precious saviour is no longer his own. He is my warrior now... I suggest running if you wish for survival.”

It had been a good two hours since Zarin had been struck by the mysterious bolt of light and Vernus, stumbling and shaking like a madman, watched his still body fearfully. He had regained his solid state, an Arcian trick that, despite his uselessness he had managed to perfect, becoming at least a viable attacking force for the group. It was a major pity for them that he’d grown quite loath of actually putting sword to neck, though, which rendered that fact useless.
“Oh gods I’ve made a huge mistake...” He whimpered for the tenth time that hour, stumbling around, hoping desperately to find something to help him. There was nothing though. Why would Uzura help him in any way? He’d doomed him to death anyway.
“Vile scum who would tear the earth from the sky that bore her...” The child’s voice echoed.
Vernus quickly turned to face Zarin... or where he should have been. The boy had disappeared...
“Expect no mercy from the ones that defend her, for you will reap a painful reward for your ignorance.”
That wasn’t normal talk. He was reciting something. No child would come out with those lines without some sort of help.
“Z-Zarin... please, don’t... don’t do this!” Vernus yelled out, glancing around for a sign of the boy’s position. “It shouldn’t be like this!”
His attention was immediately grasped by the stone slab altar,which began to glow with an intense light. Appearing there atop the pure altar, sword arm outstretched complete with great magical blade, was Zarin, his eyes aglow with perfect light.
“We fight for the light of the ones who’s power is immeasurable.” He spoke, stepping down from the altar and towards the terrified Arcian. “Our strength grows with each passing day. You stand before no mere mortal. You stand before the chosen, the greatest power in our small world. Fight with honour… Or die a tool.”
Vernus could only step back, following the carpeted ground until his back reached the hard wooden door. Trying the handle, he whimpered once more as he found himself unable to open his only way out. He was trapped, eyes following the tip of that great blade, closing in on him slowly. Even if he tried to fight back, it would be futile. He had no weapon, no means of harming the boy.
“Z-zarin… Please… I-I am not your enemy!” He pleaded, breaths coming fast and panicked. “You have to snap out of this!”
“Spare me your words... I have no ear for the traitor of his own kind, less so for my mortal enemy.” Zarin continued to recite, his blade now touching his foe’s neck. He stopped there, staring in to Vernus’ own eyes, his face completely blank.
“I give you a chance. Fight for your life, cling on to your final seconds… Or fall now, forgotten or abhorred.”
“Do I always gotta stop the stupid kids?!” A harsh female voice rung out from the top of the great room. “Every. Freakin’. Time!”
With that elegant greeting, the figure that had sourced the not-so-charming voice fell from the rafters, spreading wings of firey orange feathers – a great wingspan almost matching her tall stature – and swooped in to knock the boy away.
Vernus released a held breath in relief as he looked over at his saviour, who had straightened up. She’d managed to propel them both towards a wall, Zarin looking rather slumped over and unconscious, and she was in the process of dusting herself off. She stood at almost six foot, by his estimation, black wavy hair reaching down to her shoulders. Her blue eyes were harsh and unforgiving, brought out by her hair even moreso. She wore little on her top, simply wearing well-covering black underclothes, and a tan-shaded pair of baggy jeans. At the hip she had sheathed a katana, and on her back were the most beautiful wings. Orange, firey feathers adorned with coloured gems.
Magical gems. She was a Wielder…
“Seriously. I get this crap all the time. Gotta have eyes everywhere at once.” She fumed, storming over to Vernus with a glare that could have killed him right then if eyes were to fire daggers. “So you’re killin’ kids now huh? Arcia’s gettin’ pretty damn low.”
The hatred in her words stung, and Vernus’ fear started to grow. Between a kid brandishing a giant blade at him and a woman that took that kid down in one move and was now placing all the blame on him, he would have taken the kid any day.
“P-please, I’m… I-I’m n-not like th-the others!” He protested, pushing his back harder against the door. “U-Uzura changed him! He’s…N-not himself!”
“Yeah I noticed that.” She grunted, glaring back over at the limp boy. “Kid’s nuts. Then again he deserved it. Gods don’t like bein’ mistreated.” She huffed and rolled her eyes, shrugging dismissively as she turned and walked down the carpet and about once more to face Vernus from a further vantage.
“So. You’re a broken Arcian? Somethin’ like that?” She smirked taking great joy in taunting the man. “Ain’t even worth callin’ scum. What’s your name?”
"V-vernus... What about you?"
"Sabre. Sabre Someras." The woman said, nodding to the crumpled boy once more. "Y'wanna grab the kid and run before he wakes up? Might be takin' him somewhere safe'd wake him up. Doubt it'd work though. Uzura does a pretty good job."
Now completely relaxed and assured that he wouldn't be gutted alive by child or woman, Vernus rushed to Zarin's aid, straining under the weight of his sword as he picked the boy and blade up.
"Aight, now let's get outta here."