He paced to and fro in front of them, his silvery white robe flowing behind him. Both looked at him with awe. Nobody had ever looked as powerful and graceful as him, even while just striding.
Her golden eyes followed every step he took and her silky black hair, tied up in a ponytail, floated in air as she moved her head in his direction. She wore a pale gold gown, embracing every curve of her body, falling into a train behind her. Her sharp features were softened by the glow of the lamps that lit the Main Hall.
He, too, stared at him, enthralled. He admired everything about the Lord, from his meticulous personality to his holiness, from the powers he sustained to the white robe he now wore. He looked upon him as his mentor. So close was his idolatry of him, it was almost next to his belief of him as god. He stood in a dark gray robe, his long black hair lying on his back. His blue eyes observed every move the Lord made, from the flinch of nose when something annoyed him to the gentle drumming of fingers when he was pondering over a matter.
The dark Lord stopped pacing in front of them and for a moment, looked straight ahead, lost in his thoughts, eyes focusing on his surroundings. The Main Hall expanded in front of him, its far end submerged in darkness. It was dimly lit with torches on adjacent pillars on either side, casting a soft yellow glow. Everything appeared to be washed in gold. His throne, in front of which he stood, was a part of the darkness except the moonlight, coming from high above, fell on it, giving it a ghostly white glow.
He now looked at his two warriors in front of him; Rayven and Amyl. Both were now the best-at an age so young they held the power to defeat anyone who had been mastering their arts for a century. Fast learners as they were, he had taught them all he knew, even more in fact. The finest swordsman of Evelandia had taught them the skillful use of the blade, the darkest of the mages had unraveled the world of magic in front of them. Bribing the bravest warriors, he had trained their minds and body to learn the skills nobody could survive in a combat. All the abilities they now knew made them the Zirawth, the Right Hands. And how fast they had learnt, he thought, clearly satisfied with them, feeling pride in him.
“I believe you two know why I called for you.” His voice was gentle.
The two bowed their heads simultaneously, signifying yes.
“You two stand before me, as my Right hands. You have come far, both of you. Struggled with all your might, sacrificed what you loved and thrived for excellence only for me and to earn my pleasure.” He fell quiet as his eyes moved from one to the other, lost in a memory he now revived.
“Now it’s time to enter the mortal world and find him, the only Ahda on our side,” he looked at the two, seriousness clouding his eyes, wiping away any trace of warmth left behind.
Without waiting for an answer, he stepped down from the throne and walked to the centre of the Main Hall, clapping his hands once. Out of nowhere, a huge fountain appeared in front of him. It was glowing green on its own, with no help from the torches of the Hall. A dove stood in the middle with its beak pointing upwards. Water splashed down from it as it gently flapped its wings. The surface of the water looked oddly calm for the water falling into it. He reached the fountain, Rayven and Amyl following closely behind.
“Step in, Amyl”, he whispered.
Amyl lifted her gown slightly as she got into the fountain. Her back towards the splashing water, she faced the Lord and looked at him expectantly, waiting for another command.
“You know what to do.”
She nodded slightly and bent down, cupping her hands on water. The small part of the element she had extracted from the main body shimmered green in her hands. She raised it to her lips. Before taking a sip, she uttered softly and slowly,
“Take me to the land, inhabited by man, where dwells the devil, in bloody hearts, and veiled minds.”
Saying so, she took a sip of water and after a pause, drank it completely. She lowered her hands and looked at him, who gave a little nod. She saw her hands fading and turned blank eyes to her lord again.
“Bless me, O Master.”
“You are blessed, Amyl.”
And within a span of a drop falling from the fountain to the water below, she had vanished completely, the only sign of her being the ripples disturbing the serenity of the surface.
“Now step in, Rayven.”
Rayven stepped in and followed Amyl’s actions. After drinking the water, he looked at him, “I will bring him home, Lord,” determination shining in his eyes even though he was fading. His last words were a whisper coming from nowhere as he disappeared almost completely.
“Yes. Bring him home,” the Lord replied, to himself now.
