The Second Carpenter

I

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Oraculum Veritatis; Prophetia Perditionis

There shall arrive a miracle of unimaginable magnitude, come the Plane's defiance of time and space. When mothers forget their boys, and when shepherds sacrifice their hordes. Choose The Lonely Star to enter a new phase, crimson the cosmos in the blood of the Fair Race.

Beware, guardian, for betrayal is imminent; and of that which lurks in the unforeseeable shadows, no man and no god knows.

As I travel eternity by eternity to the higher realm, I carry memories of being locked amidst infernal cold.

This is a tale of betrayal; a testimony of torture.

PG

I_I_The_Unconscious_Ultimatum

The red scenery of Fildablo — the ring surrounding Planet Aulothanwin — had paled in the face of Astral illumination: an effect that the Arxlight could not boast of. The sky was clear enough for Fildablo to be visible, and the blue half-moon of Aulothunwin whose light mixed with Fildablo's had developed a purple hue. Prince Garxa, fogbound in the cold weather of the green mountains north of Olthayxir, would have managed to ride stealthily through the night thanks to the blackness of his own skin and that of his steed, had he not had to gallop as fast as he could. Holding his unconscious younger sister made it even harder for him to control the steed. It was a fine horse, but one riding through drastic circumstances.

The eleven-year-old girl's right-arm had been cut off the shoulder by the king's soldiers. Apparently, when a king is betrayed, he might even order violence against his own blood. However, Bovz Tiyz was King of Tiyz and Garxa did not know if he had to expect the same from King of Olthayxir?

Razeloth was supposed to have joined him by now. "I should've never left him alone." Garxa said to himself. They had parted ways in an ambush by King Bovz's soldiers. Razeloth had told him to leave without him to save Suaroca, for he was a better warrior than Garxa was and there was a chance he could outfight the ambush. He indeed was a better warrior than Garxa; about the second part, however, Garxa could not be so certain.

Either way, Garxa had to keep going, for without saving Suaroca, Razeloth's potential death would be for naught. Hence, he kicked the horse into a full gallop as he led it downhill. He was supposed to reach a particular village by a river. Garxa knew neither the river's name nor which territory he roamed. He did not know much of this kingdom. He had heard names, but never had an idea of what the places looked like. He had never traveled out of Tiyz before this journey.

Upon reaching the bottom of the mount, Garxa met a river. "This must be it," he assumed, then followed the river north. Not knowing how much longer Suaroca would last, Garxa was in a feverish rush. A poisonous sword had scratched the man's chest, a condition perhaps closer to death than that of the girl being carried, but sympathy for Suaroca had numbed his own pain.

After a while, Garxa saw a handful of shacks from afar. Could this be the village Razeloth had told him about? He commanded the horse to slow down so that the sound of galloping would not draw any attention. He eventually reached the shacks and stopped to look for the one he had come for. It was too dark to see well and Garxa had too little blood left to think properly. At this moment did he transpire to realize that the blood flowing from his wound was green. "Tiyzn basilisk's poison," he assumed, "I shall perish."

He heard footsteps from behind and instinctively put his hand on the hilt of his sword. When he looked back, he saw Razeloth standing on his own feet with his black hair covering his ghastly face. Unlike Garxa and Suaroca and all other Tiyzns, Razeloth did not have a black skin, for he was not a native Tiyzn; he had merely been raised there.