This story takes place almost immediately after the party rescues Brude and Ellia from the Sakasuki family tomb on Hai-Lan. It's open, though I don't really know what all you guys will be able to do with it.

It focuses on Arius, and the strange hallucinations and visions that he's been experiencing since meeting Wraith, the genasi swordmage.

Here is "Misplaced Memories" Part 1

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"Misplaced Memories"

Steel shrieked against steel.

The blades locked, sliding along each other until the two combatants stood nearly face to face, the intricate curvatures of their respective hilts clashing and filling the forest with the echoing clang of metal on metal. Birds, startled by the din below them, forsook their shaded perches among the trees and took flight, the sound of their beating wings lost to the fighters below as they grunted with effort, each trying to overwhelm the other. Leaves crunched beneath their feet, and the soil underfoot—dry from lack of rain—was kicked up into a cloud of fine dust that whirled about the two figures as they remained locked in combat.

Finally the smaller of the two wrenched her rapier free, leaping back and narrowly beating aside a counterstrike from her taller opponent. The young woman’s pale face was streaked with dirt and sweat, her short, golden-blonde hair plastered to her forehead as she resisted the urge to use her free hand to stop the perspiration that now threatened to blind her. She knew, as the former-instructor who now sought to defeat her in combat had taught her years ago, that doing so would only throw off her balance, and that her eyebrows would do most of the work for her, for that was why they were there in the first place. Clad as she was in a light vest of black leather armor, the emerald-eyed fighter was able to dance nimbly aside as her opponent attempted a lunge, and she smiled confidently to herself as he left himself wide open in the process.

Underestimate me, will he?

Lightning fast, the woman shot forward, her right hand pulled back in preparation for the strike that would surely end this conflict. A light danced in her eyes, the surety of victory, and she grunted as she thrust her blade forward, her vision now nothing but a tunnel focused solely on the undefended left side of her opponent’s torso. Suddenly, though, the young woman cried out in disbelief as the tip of her blade met no resistance, for her adversary had simply vanished! Her shock was short-lived, however, as a long, slender, cold rapier blade seemed to materialize at her throat, and a deep, slightly amused sounding voice spoke a single word.

“Yield.”

“Not fair!” she nearly shouted, the volume of her voice sounding alien and unwelcome in the now-silent forest. “Teleportation is not fair!” Her frustration was evident, yet her tall, black-clad opponent seemed not to notice.

“Yield,” he repeated, his lips twitching into the briefest hint of a smile, amusement lighting his amethyst eyes. A warm breeze blew through the forest, ruffling his long, raven-dark hair as he continued. “And teleportation is quite fair, Ellia. I’ll have you know that many of our recent enemies have this particular ability as well, so don’t consider it unfair, rather think of it as,” he paused for a moment, as if searching for the right word, “think of it more as preparation for battle and less as just training.”

Growling under her breath, Ellia tossed her blade aside, shutting her eyes tightly and clenching her fists.

“Fine, I yield.” Ellia spun to face Arius, cursing silently to herself as she did so. Her former teacher turned traveling companion had changed much during their years apart, and the High Priestess of Jeyld took a moment to study the amethyst-eyed eladrin.

At first glance, several distinct differences between the Arius of five years ago and this “new” Arius were apparent, and those changes—while slightly disorienting—were no great deal. His hair had grown, hanging now to mid-back, rather than stopping just above his shoulders as she remembered, and there was a small scar on his left cheek, just an inch or so below his eye, that seemed to add something to his allure rather than detract from it.

Yet it wasn’t the physical changes that caught Ellia’s attention; rather, it was what lay beneath those outward changes, some darkness and shadow of loss behind his eyes.

He seems… broken somehow, the priestess thought, watching as Arius dried sweat from his forehead with a small towel. It’s as if some part of him is missing, or like’s he’s lost something, some part of him that he knows he can’t get back. Not for the first time, Ellia wondered what exactly had happened to her friend during his years away, but since he was obviously reticent to speak of it, the young woman simply pushed her curiosity aside.

Quiet laughter snapped Ellia’s attention back to Arius.

“My, my, my,” the slightly-winded eladrin said softly, the ghost of a smile dancing across his lips. “How the tables have turned, don’t you think?”

Ellia turned her back to him as she blushed, returning her black-hilted rapier to its sheath and wiping her brow with a rag of her own. “I fail to see your meaning,” she replied, a bit more brusque than she’d intended.

Arius shrugged. “I was only remembering a time, some years ago, when it was I studying you so intently.” A brief shadow of grief crossed his pale features when he thought of that long-past evening, when he first began to notice Ellia’s frightening resemblance to Nanethiel. He had put the elven woman’s death behind him long ago, but some part of him still struggled with the weight of guilt, and he was content knowing that he may never be truly rid of it.

Ellia was quiet for awhile, as if trying to recall the night that Arius had spoken of. Finally she turned to face him again, her blush replaced by a look of weariness that surprised Arius. It seemed far too severe for one as young as the emerald-eyed priestess. Her brow furrowed as she finally spoke.

“It seems like so long ago,” she muttered, her musical voice barely above a whisper, nearly lost on the rising wind. “I was a different person,” she paused for a moment as a dark laugh escaped her, “I was an infatuated girl, I think, and unable to see who it was that you truly cared for.”

Arius said nothing, though his eye twitched imperceptibly.

“So much has happened, Arius,” Ellia said, crossing the short distance between them and slipping her arms around his waist, resting her head against chest. To her surprise, Arius didn’t pull away as he had that night five years ago, when she’d tried to touch him. Instead, Ellia felt a pair of arms encircle her, holding her, comforting her, but simply as a friend and nothing more.

“It must have been hard for you,” the fey warlock spoke softly.

“You could say that being suddenly thrust into the center of attention for the entire city of Belra when I was barely more than a girl was hard, or that becoming the human High Priestess to the god who is revered as the father of the dragonborn was hard,” she stopped, a humorless smile gracing her delicate features as she closed her eyes. “Or you could say that finding out the person you’d pledged yourself to, given your heart to, was a secret agent for the enemy was hard…” She trembled, and Arius thought that perhaps she was crying, but when he pulled back slightly and looked down, there was no hint of moisture upon Ellia’s cheeks.

“But?” Arius prompted, sensing that there was more for her to say.

Apparently the slender, golden-haired young woman wasn’t quite ready yet to delve that deeply into herself, for when she spoke again, the sudden change of subject startled Arius.

“Are the two of you lovers?” she said nonchalantly, giggling when she looked up and noticed the look of shock that registered on Arius’ face. “You and Febrien, I mean. Well?” She relaxed a little, once again laying her head against the eladrin’s chest as she waited for an answer.

“It would seem,” Arius replied slowly, as if unsure of his own words, “that I was wrong about her.” He sighed, as if simply speaking those words had taken more out of him than their earlier bout. “I’ve told her how I feel, what she means to me, but…”

Now it was Ellia’s turn. “But?”

“But I don’t think that she feels the same. It doesn’t matter, though, whether she returns my love or not; I will not let anything happen to her. I will dedicate my life to her, to watch over her and be there for her…”

Ellia tightened her hold around Arius’s waist, barely, just enough to be comforting, but not enough to be misconstrued as something it wasn’t. “Unrequited love can be difficult. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Arius simply nodded, saying, “She brought me through some of the most difficult times in my life, though she may never truly know the extent of it. I spent years in darkness with only her memory to keep me sane, to keep me alive. Now that she’s here, so close… Well, that’s enough for me.”

“That’s so… That’s so sad,” Ellia said quietly.

Arius was about to respond when something from behind caught his attention. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was: some feeling or sound, a sensation, a cold chill down the back of his neck, but whatever it was, it felt wrong. Shoving Ellia suddenly forward, Arius spun around, his rapier hissing from its sheath as he kept his left arm outstretched behind him, to keep the young priestess behind him.

As he turned, Arius was struck with a sense of disorientation as the world around him blurred, changing subtly from the surrounding, dark forest to a brightly lit, wide open space. The ceiling was high, and punctuated every twelve or so feet with large skylight windows, their glass curved upward into half-spheres. The walls were golden, and the floor was a hardwood that reflected the sunlight that poured down through the high windows. Pillars along the sides of the massive hall held the ceiling up, their width massive enough that even two or three people would have trouble encircling any one of them. The temperature in the air changed, the chill of the early evening becoming warm and comfortable. Arius continued to turn, raising his blade and making an arcing strike that collided solidly with a second blade. An echo resounded throughout the space, which the raven-haired warlock recognized with a shock.

This is… This is the training hall in the palace. This is… Galdria!

The wielder of the second, heavier blade was a man, nearly matching Arius in height. He was clad in a uniform that had not been seen on the face of Bolermos in almost twelve-hundred years: the vest of light, leather armor dyed midnight blue and trimmed in royal purple, the black trousers and undershirt, and knee-high leather boots of a Galdrian Royal Guard. His features were quite striking, with his jet-black, long hair pulled back into a ponytail and his piercing, sapphire eyes which seemed to stare through Arius rather than at.

“I…” Arius stammered, unable to believe his eyes. He lowered his blade slowly, his entire body trembling in shock, his mind rebelling against what he saw. This wasn’t the first time that the fey-bound eladrin had suffered such a hallucination; in fact, they had become all too commonplace ever since he had come into contact with Wraith, the genasi who had practiced a variation of the swordmage combat style that the eladrin of Galdria had perfected, an art that—at least, Arius had though—had been lost with the elven kingdom’s destruction.

The man smiled slightly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he kept his own blade raised. “Now, now, have you learned nothing, Arius?” he asked, motioning for the stunned Arius to raise his weapon. “You’ve come a long way, my boy, but you still have much to learn…”

Arius could only nod as, almost unconsciously, he returned his rapier to a ready position before him. He barely trusted his voice to work as he spoke a single word:

“Father?”

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AMdG

*** OOC: If this interrupts the rest of your story as you see it .... feel free to delete. And excuse the present tense... I'm far too used to writing this way due to DI.***


Another voice erupts in laughter not far from the pair dueling. If Arius were to look over he'd see a jovial Eladrin, dressed very nearly the same as the man drawing swords with the warlock, though a bit less fine and lacking a few distinctions. "Arius always was one to do things the hard way!" Another bout of laughter and then, "Best teach him 'acorns falling from a tree'. That'll get him to keep his guard up won't it Uncle?"

With another chuckle he shrugs with a helpless expression for Arius as his combat ensues. "Best get your sword up Ar, you know as well as I do that he's not got a merciful bone in his body." Idely he touches a deep red scar that runs along his cheek, though rather than a look of regret, he smiles wide adding, "When he gave me this I believe he was hoping it would scare off the women. Didn't work though."

He glances about the hall and draws his own sword. It, like the one carried by Arius' father is a broad-bladed longsword. A cross-hilt of fine mythril and a blade of steel, are colored by an aura of green. Slowly the tip of the blade begins to dance through the air as Ferius begins to practice forms. While many of his moves are aggressive, most are defensive in nature as blocks, parries and riposte preclude and often conclude every form.

Soon magical energy begins to streak through the air as his forms begin to meld the art and the steel. The eladrin's blade dances about as does he, and soon a rift quickly opens which deposits him on the other side of the dueling pair. Here he begins to go through more forms though if one were to watch closely, they would realize that he was repeating them in reverse order.

After a time he comes to a halt sheathing his weapon and again his eyes focus on Arius and his father.

Ellia gasped.

The slight bard dropped her rapier, running to Arius’ side as she saw him collapse. She grabbed hold of him, straining to hold him up, but to no avail. Her strength wasn’t enough, and both she and Arius tumbled to the ground in a heap. Struggling, Ellia managed to disentangle herself from the unmoving form of Arius, though when she stood shakily to her feet, the High Priestess of Jeyld looked down upon the eladrin and cried out.

He’s dead! she thought, panic racing through her. She dropped to her knees, her emerald eyes wide with fear, and began shaking Arius by the shoulders. Suddenly a sound escaped him, a slight sigh, his lips parting slightly. She stopped, leaning closer, her face barely an inch away from his, waiting.

There it was again, that same soft sound, accompanied this time by a minute exhalation against her cheek. His closed eyelids twitched, and the fingers on his right hand—his sword hand—flexed just slightly.

“He’s alive,” she whispered to herself, repositioning Arius’ head into her lap. “He’s alive!” she repeated, louder this time, tears of relief streaming down her face, cutting clean paths through the dirt and dust upon her cheeks. She struggled again to lift the warlock’s prone form, but to no avail. Finally, she gave up and began calling for help.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ellia heard the sounds of sandal-clad feet pounding the ground as a group of monks burst through the forest into the small clearing, several of them assuming ready stances while the others made directly for Ellia and Arius. They looked down upon the two, confusion clearly evident on their faces.

“Please,” Ellia begged, “please help us…”

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Hours passed.

Ellia leaned against the cold stone wall, her eyes locked on the unconscious form of Arius at her feet, her hand never straying far from the hilt of her rapier. She still didn’t know what had happened to her friend, but whatever it was, she was going to be ready if it happened again.

Arius lay on a straw-stuffed pad on the floor of the so-called “cake room” of the Sakasuki family tomb. His breathing was shallow, and his face was streaked with sweat, but otherwise the eladrin warlock seemed perfectly fine. He had no wounds that could be seen, and several of the monk healers had stated that they could find no sign of any internal injuries either. Yet something was obviously wrong with him, of that everyone could agree.

The echo of boots on stone reverberated through the tomb, heralding the arrival of Febrien, who had been away in the village during Arius’ strange collapse. She strode into the chamber, moving past Ellia and immediately kneeling down beside Arius. Looking back toward the entrance, the young bard nearly jumped out of her skin as she Brude seemed to materialize out of the shadows beside her, soundlessly.

He smiled at her obvious shock and gestured toward the hallway that led back into the tomb’s main chamber, saying, “Let’s give her a moment alone, shall we?” He smiled at her, and she found herself following him against her better judgment.

She cast a backward glance at Arius and Febrien, her eyes filled with concern.

“They’ll be fine,” Brude prompted, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Come on.”

Sighing, Ellia followed.

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Ellia watched Brude warily.

They stood just outside the tomb, the late afternoon sun cutting through the surrounding trees and filling the air with a faint green glow. This only added to the surreal feeling that this entire day had held, and as Brude watched her from his position across from her, where he stood casually in the shadows of a great tree, Ellia began to grow uncomfortable under the rogue’s close scrutiny.

“What?” she finally asked, an obvious edge to her voice.

Brude chuckled, a chilling sound that sent chills down the priestess’ spine.

“I’m just a little confused, that’s all,” he replied after a moment of silence. He paused again, stretching and arching his back in a way that—whether he was conscious of it or not—appeared very graceful and feline.

“About?”

“You.”

Ellia said nothing else, sensing that Brude was merely playing with her. Even after all the months that they’d spent together at sea and in the custody of these monks, it seemed that Ellia knew very little about the rogue, besides the fact that he seemed to literally pounce on any and all opportunities to make someone feel inferior and uncomfortable.

Brude pressed on.

“I don’t understand how he can treat you so poorly, ignore and shun you, and yet you still follow him around like a lost puppy.” He shrugged, his eyes seeming to glow from out of the shadows. “When are you going to wake up? Isn’t it obvious that he doesn’t care for you at all? You’re little more than an irritation to him.”

Ellia’s eyes flashed with anger, and she was about to respond when Brude held up his hand to silence her.

“Trust me,” he said knowingly. “I’ve known him a lot longer than you.”

“What the hell is this all about?” the blonde young woman asked between clenched teeth. “Did you drag me out here just to piss me off? If so, you’re doing an excellent job of it.”

Again, Brude simply shrugged nonchalantly. He grinned at her as he spoke, his voice colored with obvious amusement. “I just wanted to be alone with you somewhere, that’s all.”

Without a word, Ellia turned on her heel and stormed fuming back into the tomb, her small fists clenched in anger, her sword bobbing up and down at her hip with each step.

Brude watched as she disappeared into the shadowy structure, his eyes locked on her retreating form. A slight smile spread across his face as he sighed in contentment, pleased with himself for a job well done.

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AMdG

Within the confines of his mind, days passed.

Or, rather, it seemed as if days had passed. To Arius, time was a blur, and nothing was clear to him. Instead, it was as if this vision of his—if vision it truly was—was somehow out of focus, blurry, and erratic. He knew that he had slept, eaten, even laughed with friends and family long since dead, but he couldn’t really recall where he had slept, what food or drink had passed his lips, or what was said by anyone. The only times that remained clear and vivid were the back-breaking and mind-numbing training sessions with his father and cousin.

Every morning—for morning it seemed, at least—Arius would join his father Erutáron and Ferius his cousin in the golden training hall in the Galdrian palace. The three men would spend hours sparring, and in those times, Arius found himself slowly recalling all that he had learned from his father in years passed, for there had been a time when the amethyst-eyed eladrin had undergone this very same regimen of swordmage preparation, well over a thousand years ago.

Yet somehow, this was all wrong, and Arius knew it.

Here, in the boundaries of these strange visions, Arius was a fully grown man, equipped as he had been for the past several years: black leather armor, long cloak, and gods-given rapier at his hip. It seemed, though, that his father and cousin saw none of these things, envisioning him instead as he had been in those far off days, a youth dressed in the typical uniform of a guard trainee, a simple longsword his only means of defense against the two “older” warriors’ own enchanted blades. All of Arius’ memories were intact, but though he tried to warn his kinsmen of the impending doom that would soon fall upon Galdria, it seemed as though the two swordmages were oblivious to his words.

But there was still more.

Slowly, Arius was recalling the swordmage training that he had been undergoing with his father over ten centuries ago. Normally, perhaps, this wouldn’t seem particularly unusual, but it was, for Arius had not even thought about those long lost days for years uncounted. It was almost as if some force had blocked those memories out, or at the very least pushed them aside, burying them in the background of his mind for reasons of its own…

“No, no,” Erutáron spoke softly one morning, as Arius attempted to tap into his innate magical power, something that he’d not done since he was a boy, almost twelve-hundred years earlier. “Son, you aren’t focusing enough. You must block out all outside distractions; even the slightest amount of attention on something else and your concentration is broken…”

Arius’ brow furrowed as he opened his eyes, sighing with exhaustion. “I know, I’m sorry,” he replied, looking up from his cross-legged position to gaze into his father’s blue eyes. “This is just so, unreal… I need you to understand, Father, that I shouldn’t be here.”

As always, whenever Arius said or did something that hinted at the fact that he simply didn’t belong in these visions, it was as if Erutáron hadn’t heard him at all.

“Let’s try this again,” he said gently, moving to sit across from Arius. “Try not to worry so much about it, Arius. It will come to you, trust me.” He smiled, an expression that made Arius’ heart skip a beat, even after all these centuries. “You’re a natural, my son…”

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More time passed.

Arius smirked, taking a single step back as his cousin lay on the ground before him, sweat streaking his pale face. Ferius levered himself up onto his elbow, shaking his head slowly as a smile of his own flicked across his lips. Arius lowered his rapier, offering his hand to his cousin.

“Not bad,” Ferius said, his words quiet and breathless.

From where he stood watching, Erutáron laughed. “That was much better than ‘not bad’ Ferius, admit it.” The older eladrin walked forward to join the two others, who were both out of breath. “Such progress, and in such a short amount of time. Amazing.”

His father’s words of praise filled Arius with pride, and for a brief moment, the eladrin warlock prayed that he would never have to leave this place, and that he could remain forever locked within this vision.

“Thank you,” Arius replied. He turned his head to look at his father, and what he saw caused him to gasp in confusion and shock. The sound of his rapier striking the hard stone floor echoed throughout the massive, golden hall. “What…?” he stammered, his eyes wide and his body trembling slightly.

Erutáron’s face was… gone.

Arius’ eyes narrowed as he took in even more details. His father’s body seemed to be vanishing, right before his very eyes: his arms and legs had begun to waver like a heat-vision, and his voice—for he was still talking and laughing with Ferius—seemed distant and warped. For that matter, in fact, Ferius as well seemed to be fading away, as did the entire training hall around them. A pressure within his mind caused Arius to cry out, grasping the sides of his head as he fell to his knees.

There was a presence behind him.

Arius leapt to his feet, picking his rapier as he did so and turning to face whatever it was that had come into being. His eyes narrowed as he saw a figure that was as familiar to him as himself, someone he had long known he could trust; but for a reason that he wasn’t entirely sure of, Arius kept his sword ready, for he could sense that something was wrong.

“You draw steel against me?” Daerist asked, his eyes narrowing slightly, his brow furrowing beneath the thin golden circlet of his office. He kept his hands folded before him, though his long, flowing robes of office stirred slightly as he took half a step forward. “How you have managed to block me out for so long I do not know,” he continued, “but I’m here now, and it is time to end this and return to the world of the living. Come.”

Arius responded by taking a step back. He focused on Daerist, blocking out the strange distortions of the world around him. Distantly, he could hear Ferius laughing at something his father had said, though the words were lost to Arius. As he bent all of his will toward the ancient king, Arius noted a strange aura of… of something emanating from the silver-haired eladrin’s body. Suddenly, it seemed as if the warlock could here Erutáron’s voice within his mind.

“Remember the first rule, my son: know your enemy’s strength, to better plan your strategy against him. To do this, shift your perceptions, use what providence has given you to see the flows of magic that may or may not empower him…”

Almost instinctively, Arius did just that.

“It’s you…” he said softly, disbelief coloring his words as he watched the aura of energy around Daerist distorting the vision around him. Wisps of flickering magic swirled around the ancient eladrin, each spawning tendrils of power that seemed to reach out and penetrate the veil of the illusion, infusing it and slowly tearing it down piece by piece.

“I’m only doing what is necessary, Arius.”

Anger suddenly welled up within the raven-haired eladrin. “Necessary? What the hell are you talking about, Daerist? Necessary for who?” Arius forced himself to take another step back as the irrational desire to strike his bonded filled him. Why is he doing this?

“For both of us, Arius,” Daerist said, a bit more forcefully this time. He spread his arms, gesturing to the rapidly diminishing “world” around them. “This is unhealthy for you, my friend; unhealthy because it does you no good to live in the past. Put these pointless memories behind you, for truly, what good can they be doing?”

“What gives you the right to decide that?” Arius asked, clenching his fist tighter around the bone hilt of his rapier. “They are my memories, and I’ll do with them as I please!”

Realization struck him then like a physical blow.

“You… It’s been you the whole time! You’re the one who’s been burying my past; hiding my own life from me! How dare you?!”

“Silence!” Daerist boomed, an aura of power exploding around him and forcing Arius back further still. “I will not be spoken to in such a manner,” he went on, his voice calming now as his display of anger died down. “And I dare because, without me, you would be nothing.”

“You don’t have the right.”

“Don’t I?” Daerist responded, his voice bitter. “Tell me, Arius, from where does the power you use to defend your friends and companions originate? By my power is your curse subdued; by my grace am I bound to you! This is your destiny, Arius. This is what you were born to do, born to be.”

“No, damn it!” Arius shouted, pointing to the distorted image of his father. “I was not born for this, to be your pawn! Everything he taught me, everything I learned from him, that is what I was born for. I was always supposed to follow after him, to be a swordmage. We are finished, you and I,” he said finally. “I will follow my own path now.”

“Nonsense, Arius,” Daerist continued. “His path was never yours, and you know it.” He smiled and shook his head, like someone who was trying to explain something to a foolish child. “He may have raised you like a son, but you and I both know that you are no son of his. You, Arius, are a son of Veran, the last King of Galdria, given over that commoner’s care for reasons of Veran’s own.” Daerist now walked purposefully forward, laying a hand on Arius’ shoulder and ignoring the younger eladrin’s flinch and hissing intake of breath. “A son of the king does not become a swordmage, a member of the guard. You were meant for more than the path of a common knight.”

“I don’t care that Erutaron wasn’t my real father, Daerist,” Arius said, pulling away from Daerist’s reassuring grasp. “He raised me, he taught me everything he knew. And he loved me, which is more than I can say for Veran, who abandoned me for, as you put it, ‘reasons of his own’!”

“Arius—”

“I’ve warned you before, Daerist,” Arius went on. “I told you to never control me or manipulate me ever again, or else. Now,” he paused, as if unsure of his next words, “now you have gone too far.”

“You need to understand, Arius, that suppressing these memories of yours is important. Were you to recall your past, to remember the power that you once held, it would be disastrous for me.” Daerist looked down and sighed before continuing on. “I am no longer bound to the blade I once was, you know that as well as I. I have forsaken that to bind myself to you. Don’t you understand, Arius? Without you, I am nothing, and I will be forced to move on to a place where I will be unable to aid you or your companions in this quest you have undertaken. I am doing this because it is necessary… for me to continue on.”

“Damn you, you selfish bastard,” Arius said wrathfully. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t just about you! It is my life, Daerist, not yours. I will not allow you to bend me to your will anymore.”

Daerist remained silent, though the flash of scorn in his eyes spoke volumes.

“I have had enough of being used and controlled, enough.” Arius turned his back on Daerist, walking slowly toward the now-phantasmal form that had once been Erutáron, his father. “I will choose my own path now. The path that I was meant for.” As he said the last, he looked back over his shoulder, feeling a sense of relief when he noticed Daerist’s absence.

“Yes,” Arius said with a nod as the memory-world came crashing down around him, leaving him floating within a void of grey nothingness. “My own path…”

With that, Arius closed his eyes and awoke.

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AMdG