𝙉𝙮𝙭𝙚𝙧𝙖 ✧

The Obsidian Feather

The air within the domain was thick, heavy with unease.

The walls pulsed faintly, as if the ancient leyline energies sensed the presence of intruders, stirring the remnants of memories buried within them.

Frisk gripped their weapon tightly, sweat dampening their brow as they moved deeper into the labyrinth-like space.

Xilonen followed closely behind, her steps light but determined, her usual coolness dampened by the ominous atmosphere.

Ahead, the flicker of blue energy illuminated a chamber at the heart of the domain.

There they were-The Captain and Ororon, standing at the center of a swirling leyline mechanism.

The air shimmered with ghostly energy, and the sound of distant whispers echoed through the space like the murmurs of the long-forgotten dead.

Frisk's heart dropped. They were too late.

The Captain turned toward them, his expression calm but tinged with regret.
"It's already begun." he said.

Before Frisk could react, the leyline mechanism surged, and a terrible scream ripped through the chamber, sharp and otherworldly.

The spectral energy around Ororon flared violently-and then it twisted.

His body went rigid as the invading force took hold. His bright, mischievous eyes darkened, and when they opened again, they glowed with an unnatural, ghostly blue.

He was possessed.

Ororon's body jerked unnaturally, and his lips twisted into a cruel, unfamiliar smile.

"It's been centuries," a voice rasped, old and bitter. "And now... I have a body once more."

Without warning, Ororon lunged at Xilonen, moving with terrifying speed.

She barely had time to react as he slashed at her with uncanny precision.

Xilonen stumbled backward, blocking the blows as best she could, but the force of the attacks was overwhelming.

"Ororon!" she shouted, desperation in her voice.

But it wasn't him anymore.

Just as Ororon prepared to strike a final blow, the Captain stepped forward.

In a flash, he intercepted the attack, pulling Xilonen out of harm's way.

"You fight the wrong enemy, spirit," the Captain growled. He pressed his hand against Ororon's chest, using a burst of magic to weaken the possessed body for a brief moment.

Frisk didn't hesitate.
They bolted toward the leyline mechanism and yanked at the ancient controls, desperately working to deactivate it.

The mechanism sputtered and whined as Frisk frantically pulled at the levers and runes, trying to stop the flow of corrupted energy.

The chamber trembled violently as the mechanism lost power, and the blue energy flickering around Ororon's body began to dim.

But the spirit clinging to him fought back, snarling through his lips.

"This body will be mine!" the possessed Ororon hissed. "I will rise again, as I was meant to-"

But something shifted inside Ororon.

Within his own mind, his consciousness stirred, fighting against the invader.

The chaotic whispers of the ancient spirit echoed in the dark corners of his mind, trying to drown him.

But Ororon's memories began to surface, one by one-memories of warmth, kindness, and the people who had become his family.

He remembered Citlali, scolding him endlessly but always with love hidden beneath her sharp words.

He remembered the moments when he'd been close to giving up, beaten down by training and self-doubt-how she had taken care of him when he was at his lowest.

He remembered the laughter shared with the people of Natlan, the bonds he had forged with friends and elders alike.

He saw Frisk, who always believed in him, even when he made reckless mistakes.

He thought of the tribe, the celebrations, and all the moments that shaped who he was.

And then, a realization struck him-He wasn't weak. The people around him had helped him grow stronger.

"I don't need you," Ororon whispered, his voice echoing through his own mind, directed at the spirit trying to control him.
"I have my own strength."

The spirit snarled, trying to pull him deeper into the abyss.
"You are nothing without me!" it hissed.

But Ororon shook his head.
"No. I'm not nothing. I have people who believe in me-and I'll fight for them!"

In his mind's eye, he saw a blazing light-the symbol of everything he wanted to protect.

He reached toward it, and the light responded, growing brighter and warmer until it enveloped him completely.

In the physical world, Ororon's body trembled as the spirit's hold weakened.

The obsidian feathers tied to his clothing began to glow with an ethereal light, shimmering like molten glass.

A burst of energy surged through him, driving the spirit out with a final, agonized scream.

Ororon collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath, but when he looked up, his eyes were clear once again.

The Captain stood silently, watching him with approval.
"You did it, kid," he muttered, though his voice carried no warmth.

Xilonen rushed to Ororon's side.
"You scared me half to death! Sigh but I'm glad you're okay." she sighed, though her voice was thick with emotion.

Frisk knelt beside Ororon, giving him a reassuring smile.
"Welcome back."

Ororon grinned weakly.
"Told you I'd be okay."

As the glow of the leyline mechanism faded, a new energy surged around Ororon.

The obsidian feather attached to his tunic shimmered brilliantly, glowing with a deep, radiant light-the unmistakable mark of a new ancient name.

Citlali's teachings had foretold this moment. When the right warrior emerged, the obsidian feather would shine, signaling the birth of a new champion for the Master of the Night Wind.

Ororon's eyes widened as the energy settled within him. He wasn't just Ororon anymore-he was something more.

The Captain gave a small, approving nod. "Looks like the night wind has chosen its next warrior."

Ororon looked down at the glowing feather, wonder flickering in his eyes.
"I... I didn't think this would ever happen."

Xilonen grinned and patted his back.
"You earned it, Ororon. No doubt about that."

Frisk smiled, feeling a swell of pride for their friend.

They knew how much Ororon had struggled to find his place, and now, he had finally become the warrior he was meant to be.

The Captain, however, didn't linger in the moment of celebration.

His gaze darkened as he looked toward the entrance of the chamber.
"The abyss won't stop here," he said grimly. "This was only the beginning."

Frisk's stomach twisted at the reminder of the danger still looming over Natlan.

They exchanged a glance with Ororon and Xilonen, silently acknowledging that their journey was far from over.

But for now, Ororon had found his strength, and that was a victory worth celebrating.