The Lost Oracle

02 | Chapter

It was Nelles' thirteenth birthday, but nobody around him knew it. He only remembered as he watched spent embers glow in the ash of a freshly ravaged village. It stunk of the same dread he experienced a year ago at his people's caravan. No matter how he tried to steel himself, he couldn't help but shiver at the cold constriction of his chest.

"Are there any survivors?" Faladir called out as his horse trotted through the destruction. His hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, but the shorter strands found themselves stuck to his forehead with sweat. Omhia was rounding with her own steed, coming full circle back to the others.

"I think they're all dead," she replied. It was odd how sweet her voice sounded, but the words were so bitter. Her hair flowed free behind her and was the color of marigolds. Omhia and Faladir both sported battle scars on their faces and bodies, but it was only natural. They were the superiors of the Legion of Lavas. Though, the word 'pack' may have been more suitable. Lavas' soldier's dwindled more year by year.

The dismantled village was tiny, some might even call it insignificant, but Nelles knew better. His caravan was smaller. Lives were lost nonetheless. Bodies were either charred or gutted, strewn through the burnt pelts of the huts like autumn leaves. Soot covered the faces of children - now permanently stuck clinging to their parents. Nelles' feet were heavy stones as he willed his legs to keep moving, scouring the fallen for any signs of life. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed a group of kids around his age huddled together on the ground. Their skin was still tinged with life, but their forms were stock-still. Whatever life they once had was surely gone.

"Shit," Faladir grunted as he gripped the reins. "We didn't make it in time."

There were a handful of teenaged soldiers also searching the village. When the worst came to fruition, you had to make the best out of it, lest you go mad. Lavas and the older soldiers were far ahead in an unending pursuit of the horde. Omhia's face was sullen, but before she could turn back to report to Lavas, there was a shriek from the trees.

Their heads snapped in the direction of the sound. In a small clearing just a few yards away stood three figures. Nelles squinted. Two adults and a girl around his age. The girl was the source of the scream. She clutched at her mouth and buried her face in the older girl's smock. Nelles' eyes met the woman's, and he wished they hadn't. Her gaze was as fierce as a thousand wildfires. Her jaw was set tight as she squeezed the younger girl to herself.

"What is the meaning of this? Who are you?" The man glided effortlessly toward Omhia. There was no fear, just determination like steel behind his eyes. Even though Omhia rode high on her horse and had several blades strapped to her armor, the man advanced. Faladir was between the two faster than a bolt of lightning. He held out a long spear, the point was dangerously close to the villager's face.

"Stand down." Faladir's voice was absolute. The man stopped, but still no fear. He took in the sight of the village around him for a moment before looking towards the center of it all. The burnt remains of a giant hut barely stood. It was the biggest structure of the village. Nelles had already assumed it was important. The man's eyes locked onto it like a hound. When he realized it hadn't been meddled with yet, he turned his gaze to Faladir.

"This is my land. These are my people. Are you responsible for this?" There was an edge to his voice. In one hand he clutched what looked like an old coin pouch. Money? There was no need for money in a village this size.

"Faladir," Omhia's voice was barely over a whisper. Her eyes were locked on the villager. "Back away from him... please."

Nelles' skin went tight around his limbs as the hair stood up on his body. He didn't know if it was because he had never once heard Omhia plead before, or if the air actually changed around them. Something was not right.

"No, Gos! Stop!" the younger girl called out. The taller one snatched her up by the arm, but the man sent a look as sharp as knives at the older one. The woman gritted her teeth as she released her. "This wasn't their fault!"

The only face that wasn't confused was the man's. He merely nodded and loosened his grip on his pouch.

"Why are you here then?" The man named Gos asked.

Omhia advanced on the villager, she was more at ease now. She held her head high.

"We are the Legion of demigod Lavas, son of the God of justice. We are in pursuit of Vadresym, the God of Chaos, and his Horde. Your village isn't the first to suffer from his bloodied hands. We were too late, and for that, we're sorry." Her words rang true as sorrow flooded her eyes. "If you're looking to exact revenge, then follow us. We'll take you to Lord Lavas. He's in the lead of the hunt. We stayed back to search for survivors."

It was Gos's turn to look confused. "Why is there a physical God here in Epora?"

"Twenty years ago the last Oracle of Duality turned to dust," Omhia said with conviction. "Lord Lavas believes that she was the last of her kind. He hasn't been able to detect her reincarnation yet. Without the Oracle, there's nothing to keep the Gods out of our realm. The God of Chaos has taken this to his advantage. We fear he plans to enslave this realm."

"For... what purpose?" The man didn't look like he really needed to ask, but the words escaped his lips nonetheless.

"Lord Lavas believes he is building an army to conquer the realm of the Light Gods. That is, after all, the direction he is heading."

There was a severe silence. Nelles only heard the cracking of wood in small flames and the rushing of his own blood. They waited for the villagers to digest the new information.

Without consulting his friends, the man replied abruptly. "Okay. We will join you. Please allow us to gather what little we have left before the journey."

It didn't take long at all. With one final sweep and a rush of hooves, Faladir assigned Nelles the duty of temporarily leading the new members. He learned the two girls were sisters and the man was a mentor of some sort. The girl that was around his age was the most shaken up. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she fought to catch her breath. Nelles felt terrible. He tried to offer her water, offer her anything, only to be waved off by Gos.

It wasn't long ago that he was in the exact same spot of this girl. He remembered how his lungs constricted. He remembered how his body was both overcome with fire and ice. His world blurred as he found the remains of his people's caravan. Yet another travesty by the hands of Vadresym. The Legion's efforts had been slow, but every day they got closer to the God of Chaos. Their numbers dwindled in comparison to the Horde's, but they picked them off in secluded pockets. They even had a small number of soldiers infiltrating the demon army's ranks. Nelles hoped the newcomers would prove useful, and judging by Omhia's sudden display of caution with the mentor, maybe they would be. Or perhaps they would become another problem.

Nelles regarded the members thoughtfully as he lead them away from their desolate village. They were traversing the Gilded Forests of the East, just as Lord Lavas predicted. Every day it was more and more apparent what Vadresym's ultimate goal was. He was making for the Silver Spires of Aphima, the holy temple of the Light Gods. The Gilded Forests that surrounded the area were always rumored to harbor an ancient kind of power. A type of divine power that even humans could wield. But, perhaps it was just that. Rumors and myths told to the young at bedtime to inspire hope. But, Nelles had to admit, something definitely felt different about the place. Something felt different about the villagers as well.

[total word count: 3,893]