"I do not wish to kill you, Achillean. But if you refuse to surrender..."
But what if Achillean did surrender? What if, on that fateful night atop Mt Velgrin, Achillean laid down his staff? 154 years is a long time to wait for plans to fall into pla...
Ingressus may not being able to actively aid the Voltaris in their rise to rank, but there was one person who was and he had plans. He was not willing to let anyone stand in the way of them - not after a certain Sendaris champion had made his discovery
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Ingressus' plans weren't expected to fall into place on their own overnight. He had made sure that there was a team of people working day and night for his return, plotting and scheming – planning every move to ensure that the Deathsinger could return and bring hope for the Voltaris clan and reclaim all that they had lost so long ago. He was their hope, and he was gone, but not forever and while he had no presence with the clan, he'd given them everything they needed to continue fighting until he returned. After being exiled, resentment filled the clan members to the brim and many of them fought just to stay alive – discriminated because of their clan markings when many of them weren't around during the time of the Primes' discovery; but there were a select few that were willing to do much more than fight for their survival. They were willing to fight to reclaim everything that they had lost, beat down those who had beaten them and pick back up what had been thrown down so many years ago, and it started with the Prime Songs.
Tygren Voltaris was one such clan member whose rage burned the brightest red with their colour. He had untold fury for all that had been done to him and his clan, and he was willing to unleash it on anyone and everyone who stood in his way. He had personal vendettas that needed seeing to and he owed his clan a grave debt for everything they had done to help him. If anything, he was prepared to do so much more for his clan than even the Deathsinger could pertain to. Tygren was willing to do things that no-one else was, and for that, he was their most valuable asset.
He was trusted with the knowledge of the Deathsinger's in-depth contingency plans, and he intended to act with everything he could give.
One night, he summoned what forces he could to the summit of Mt Velgrin near the portal that they expected the Deathsinger to return through. He needed to begin relaying his plans to prepare them for what they were expected to do. It was dangerous, but it was a high-risk, high-reward gamble that was too valuable to miss, and it would set them miles ahead of the other clans, giving them the head start they needed and buying them much-needed time for their return to rank.
The wind was brisk and chilled the Voltaris people as they huddled together in their cubby to the side of the cliff. The fire they lit in the middle wasn't enough to stop a few of them shivering while they waited for Tygren to return inside. He was admiring the portal from outside, glinting in the moon as white as the snow, the rays bouncing off the obsidian that framed their future. He closed his eyes and inhaled the frozen air, feeling it attack his lungs. The cloud of his breath flooded the space around him as he exhaled, watching it dissipate like his tension as he dropped his shoulders.
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"Tygren?" A female Voltaris had peered her head around the entrance to their shelter to check in on their command. Tygren turned his head slightly, acknowledging her request for his attention. "We're ready for you, now."
