The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Avril jolted awake as a loud snap burst nearby, her eyes snapping wide. Muddled, her vision started to clear, blurs spinning and overlapping into a singular view. Cold, she shivered and hugged her arms, wandering her gaze around the forest resting in bright daylight. Its beauty was comparable to the fiery forest near the Beak of Ra, the leaves and grass flaming green, not red. The wind blew in great gales, glowing in the colors of the forest and sunlight as leaves descended in a lazy rain of foliage, the earthy scent of the forest intoxicating and relieving. Her eyes swept across and landed on two figures who had noticed her awakening. She focused on the woman in front, who resembled her greatly.

'I found her.' Rising, Avril stumbled a few times, thanks to her weak legs, and caught the protruding bark of a tree for support. She finally found her. After so many years, close to a century, Avril had found her sister, Avila. Her hands reached out, stretching to hold what she lost so long ago. But pain erupted, aching deep in her bones and flesh, and she fell and landed on a warm, soft embrace. Her sister, Avila, managed to catch her. The whooshing winds grew silent as if not wishing to disturb their reunion, and Avril held her sister tightly, weeping on her shoulder.

"I finally found you, little sister. Don't be scared." Avila whispered and caressed Avril's trembling back. "I'm real, and I won't leave you."

Her sister's words were honey to her ears. The feeling in her hands, the familiar presence that warmed her heart, and the words spoken–they told her it was real. All of it was real. For a few minutes, Avril enjoyed the sweet moment; everything was as she had hoped, though very late. Right, they met yesterday. As the scenes of yesterday's events slowly played out in her memories, Avril shivered and lost control of her breathing, every breath forced out by an icy grasp that squeezed her lungs. Right, she had met her mistress.

"M-my mistress. Where i-is she?" Avril bit her lips, staving off the nightmares creeping in the corner of her mind, a cold voice calling to her from within. She tore herself off Avila's grasp and flopped on the bed of roots. Her limbs failed her, ice-cold and pale. Some drool leaked from her mouth and seeped below her cheek, colder than ice. Wailing, she could feel the sting of Lelith's scythe slicing on her face, on every inch of her body, letting no place remain unmarred. The pain was bad, but the chill that followed was worse. "D-don't put me in the cold room. P-please, mistress."

"Avril!" Avila started a fire and hugged her on the way toward it. "She's not here. She's not your mistress. She'll never hurt you again."

She wasn't here. Avril rested on her sister, remembering a faint scene from long ago. Avila had held her like this before when she would cry under a thunderstorm or when she cut her leg on a stone. As her body eased up, her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since before Fallen Heaven kidnapped her. How embarrassing. She hid her reddening face under her palms as Avila laughed and brushed her hair tenderly. It really was her. It truly was Avila.

"Here, my Lady. I reheated some stew I made yesterday." The third person poured some green stew, probably made from mashed grass and herbs, into a shoddy wooden bowl, definitely not the work of a sculptor. His voice was strangely drawn out like a low hum, the words dragging on the tune.

"You're…Santen?" Avril noticed the man's strange features, mainly his long, lanky arms, and recognized him from the images Remulus gave her. He was one of Oscar's, or rather, Demon's, loyal subordinates.

"You know me, my Lady? That's good." Santen chortled in the strange clicking Auren described. He bowed and lowered his head. "Santen, the Third, is here to serve, protect, and sacrifice for your sake, my Lady."

"Have you found my husband?" Avril asked.

"No. The Lord and the others are far from my sight." Santen sighed and reached into his space pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. "But I have some concerning news. Yesterday, before I found you and your sister, I killed several others and found this." He hesitated, but Avril gave him a look, and he nodded, taking a breath before flipping the paper over with concern filling those fish-like eyes. That didn't ease her worry, and neither did the paper.

Her eyes glazed with horror as she read the contents, scanning the page over and over again, unwilling to believe that it was true. It depicted Oscar's face and shared his name. She suddenly lost her appetite as her worries increased, reaching her paling fingers on the page where it stated Oscar needed to be killed. A bounty would be rewarded to any who accomplished it, his head being the identifying factor. Why did he have to suffer more? Tears streamed from her eyes. Avril rose from Avila's embrace, knocked over Santen's stew by accident, and marched on.

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"Avril!" Avila chased after her.

"I have to find him. Now." Avril gritted her teeth and saw the shadow of the dark tower looming beyond the thick bundles of branches and leaves, sticking out like a lighthouse during a storm, except the opposite. Oscar was sure to be there as well, and she needed to find him and hide away. Hide from Lelith, hide from their pursuers, and hide from the world. Dragging her weak legs, she carried on, nearly tripping over some roots before two arms supported her, Santen and Avila. They said nothing, but she was thankful for their aid, and together, they headed toward the dark tower.

…….

Oscar coughed, spluttering out clouds of dust. He had blacked out earlier and could not remember what happened after the chains dragged him. His heart shook, blood rising up his throat, the taste of iron already on his tongue as he coughed out, dyeing his shirt red. Where was he? Oscar looked up, unable to make out a single trace of light, the surface far beyond his reach, and even worse, he lost his wheelchair. Flames bloomed into an orb on his palm, illuminating the deep darkness. It was the same, a desolate ravine fit for the wasteland he started in, not a single hint of foliage or creature, only some piles of rubble to accompany him in the lonely dark.

'You just kept falling, and then the chains put you here. They took away your wheelchair.' Demon spoke up.

"The chains?" Oscar was confused and threw flames to light the two directions of the ravine, watching the great orbs become naught but wisps in the distance until they flickered away. "Which way did they come here? Where's Sirsi?"

'The girl, I do not know. The chains separated the two of you. But the ones that dragged you went down to your left. Cold they were, certainly not of the living.' Ignyres manifested into a floating rainbow flame. 'Let me guide you. Perhaps we can find out what that shiny dunce has in store for you.' He spewed embers and made a strange noise akin to popping his lips, if he had any, merrily leading the way, according to how his flame swayed as if dancing. He seemed to be enjoying this.

Oscar roused his Ein and created a new Duality clone, with Demon's cold expression overriding its neutral state. In his new body, Demon picked up Oscar and placed him over his shoulder like a potato sack, their eyes gazing in the same direction. As Ignyres bobbed and weaved nonsensically, Oscar rechecked his belongings and was relieved to find his dimensional cube and other space pockets with all items intact. In Fallen Heaven, the first priority was to secure resources for the coming ten years of conflict. The lands were rich in ores and plants, elemental ores and highly aged plants, in fact.

No other place contained a high concentration of these rare resources like Fallen Heaven. It was part of why many powers rose and fell in fortune upon its summons. Being this deep, Oscar expected to spot ores and possibly crystals of Ein, perfect for Auren's formations. But not a single gem or unique rock glimmered in the dark. It was incredibly plain, the same crust of dirt and stone lining his path and walls. Nothing garnered his attention, as if the ravine wanted him to keep traveling and not dawdle on anything else.

'Oh! Look here! It's a gate!' Ignyres stopped and zipped over a man-made structure.

The gate rested, embedded into the end of the ravine, standing a mere head over his height. Strangely, instead of rock or metal, the gate was made from wood, and as Ignyyres burned off the dust and dirt, it revealed the wood hadn't aged the slightest, still pristine as if not even a year old. Two metal rings hung from the wooden gate, and Demon placed Oscar down, grabbed them, and pulled. Creaks and groans of the gate that had never moved in perhaps several millennia resounded, growing louder and deeper the further Demon pulled.

Scoffing, Demon swung the gate open, its doors rattling on the ravine. The wooden doors swayed and, oddly, remained unharmed. Rather, the stone split where they hit, cracks already spreading far up beyond Ignyre's light. What manner of doors were these? Picked up, Oscar traced his finger on the gate, sensing its sturdiness and hardness beyond any material he knew or worked on. Even Elder Saul's armament, probably lying in his room, couldn't compare to it.

"Welcome. Inheritor of Reis." A voice called out, and Ignyres stammered incoherently.

"It can't be." The Ancient of Fire said. "It's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible. But it is good to see you again, Ignyres." A man walked forward. He had white hair and white eyes, wearing white robes that fit his deceptively thin frame. Oscar could tell the dense, compact muscles resting underneath. The white eyes met his black eyes, and a soft gaze lowered them. "A man having the Perfect Reis body, but not of the bloodline. Perhaps. Yes. Finally. There is hope."

"Who are you?" Oscar asked.

"I have no name except for one. I am Volten. I am the one who fought with the power of Reis and the Ancients in me." The man, Volten, smiled. "Come. Join me."

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