The Princess of Wrath

Chapter 1 - Part V: Rock Bottom

The chills that Asura felt ceased to be due to the fear of that unnatural and powerful presence that had emanated from his great-grandfather. Nor was it because of the cold, whose domain at that time of night was a threat to any living being that did not have a source of heat near it.

It was the emotion and pride at the greatness of the words that she heard, narrating the facts of the events in Zamor Ichalia. They justified the admiration she felt for the figure she had formed about Argus since she was a child, and reaffirmed once again one of the primordial ideas of the imperial family with which she fully agreed: protect the people and work for them, since without them there is neither Empire nor future.

"You did what you could, and it was a lot. Zamor Ichalia's civil war was going to end with its entire population destroyed," she let him know, driven by the need to cheer up her relative. "You saved thousands with nothing but will and effort. You are a hero, worthy of the Halls of Exilia. A Conqueror."

Argus slowly shook his head, offering a meaty skew for the second time to her great-granddaughter. She could not resist the call of her natural instincts any longer and took the small iron spear carefully from the end that was not nearly red hot. When she returned to her senses, she already had a piece of crispy, over-burnt meat in her mouth. It was divine delight.

"I'm not like Radian. Or Tristessa. Or Lucion. I told you that I do not possess the qualities of a Conqueror." It was there that Asura saw an honest smile form amidst the jungle of hair on his face, widening his cheekbones and making Asura's heart give a little jump of melancholy. "But my daughter does."

That particular word nearly took Asura on a mental journey to the far reaches of the Crypt of Saints...

"Grandma Nibia..." She whispered.

Mentioning the second to last Empress of the Ithrylian Empire completely changed the mood of the Forsaken King. The sadness banished, and the weight of guilt for their actions temporarily stripped away, gave way to the sweet memory of times of full happiness, where new life brought with it airs of glory and promises of bliss for the Ithryl family and the Empire.

"She is a Stormborn, you know? She was born on a night when the skies of Thorian roared like never before, her cries rumbling along with the thunder." Argus chuckled, slightly infecting his great-granddaughter with his mood. "The storm blessed my newborn daughter, and I knew at that moment that Nibia was destined to be a great ruler... But my wife, Jolee, went further and named her after the ancient deity that the Stormborn revered before the consolidation of the Berelithian religion."

That caused Asura to choke on the last piece of meat she took into her mouth. She coughed loudly, drank down what was left of one of the last pitcher of the night for her, and wiped the corner of her mouth before asking:

"Are you telling me that my grandmother is actually named after the Goddess of the Storm?"

Argus nodded and whispered her name, sweetened with a father's love.

"Endralith."

The power of the memory made the Princess navigate further into the family crypt, where she could hear the sound of a sword being dragged on the ground...

Outside the tomb, the storm was raging, powerful...and within, inside the deepest pit, two cursed red eyes glowed in the dark.

The surprise on Asura's face was more than evident. Did her mother know from the beginning that piece of information so valuable at familiar standards? The name of the Goddess of the Storm explained many things, among them, the name of that massive sword that her grandmother permanently dragged throughout her underground prison.