"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...
In a quiet moment alone, Ingressus realises that he has made one mistake too many
Author's note: the art for this chapter was done by the lovely Cloudless_Sky (aka ArtimisWarrior) because she's better than me in every way - if you catch her, be sure to tell her how awesome it looks!
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The sunsets over Hailstone were among the most stunning that anyone had ever seen. The way that the sun glinted off Northwind's frozen waters shot tears into the eyes of even the coldest of people as the ice stood like powerful prisms creating the most perfect array of colours across the landscape. But as always, it was the colours in the sky that would hold Ingressus' attention – how united they flowed and how well each one complimented the other.
How he wished the clans were the same.
The yellow complimented the red so well...
Ingressus stood on the balcony of his quarters admiring the sky. It was the first time since walking into the new time that he had a moment to himself, undisturbed, to appreciate how much had changed.
Voltar remained leant against the wall next to his bed and the emerald of the blade took hold of the sun's glow as it escaped through the windows and bounced onto the walls. The gentle flow of the cold ocean breeze sent the window drapes adrift, and they floated, lightly brushing the floors as they swayed and Ingressus closed his eyes to allow it to caress his face. His mind was quiet for the first time in weeks. He had insisted that Tygren leave him be and ready the forces to storm the Prime Song locations. Tygren, of course, was very happy to oblige; he was just as eager to rebuild the clan as Ingressus was and, even though his trust may have slipped following events from Nestoria, he was still willing to follow the Deathsinger into battle, whatever arises - at least, that was the appearance. But because his mind was quiet, the Prime Songs were not being thought of. He wasn't thinking about the Voltaris, or the other clans.
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If he was thinking about anything, it was Achillean.
And how he wasn't there.
His absence had created a hole in Ingressus' mind, sucking his thoughts dry. He wasn't willing to admit it, but he was lost without Achillean.
Their time in the Nether had driven them apart – enough to allow Ingressus to walk away so easily – but their time apart had pulled him back. They may have fought with one another for the duration of their time there, but it was because they cared.
It's exactly as Achillean had said – it was their job as brothers to care.
And they did.
A lot.
Achillean was just better at showing it. Ingressus was too consumed by his own goals and ever being the protector that he had to be for his clan to even realise that he had not shown his care, and it wasn't something he could simply rectify. That would take decades.
