Aetherian(Part 1): A War Begins

Illyria

Illyria found herself lying in a soft bed as the sun was rising. When she turned over to the right, she was staring out at the blinding sunrise on the horizon, high above the ancient city of Mistral. She expected to be in a dungeon, but she was actually in a noble's solar, a wide, large room with four couches surrounding a small table. There was a balcony outside of the windows that stretched all the way from the floor to the ceiling, and a round table with two chairs set at it. Illyria wanted to feel the warmth of the sunlight instead of the cold of Torriban, so she stood up from the bed, barefoot, and stepped across the carpet floor. When she slid the doors to the balcony open, she felt the sunlight warm her. The warmth of the sunlight was strange to her. Illyria had spent most of her life in the darkness, and the only sunlight she's felt never brought warmth against the cold weather of Torriban. As much as she enjoyed sitting under the sun, and was hopefully free from Rivenar Jarolan, she wondered more than anything why she wasn't in chains for trying to murder a Guardian in the streets. Maybe Trevor Karvine was merciful, or could sense her dread from fighting him well enough to know that something was wrong. She was either waiting for her death or waiting to be released, but when she looked back, she saw her silver tonfas and steel throwing stars on a nightstand beside her bed, and her light armor on a rack that stood against the wall. Maybe Illyria wasn't going to be punished after all, but she should be. Attempting to kill a Guardian of Zenartha could never be forgiven for an Epsilon, especially for crimes that their ancestors, not them, committed. Maybe she was forgiven and should let it go, but she still needed to make right of what she did wrong. Suddenly, she heard a knock on her door.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"It's Trevor Karvine," the one at the door answered, and Illyria stood up to answer it. Her heart raced as she stepped closer, but before she turned the knob, she calmed herself down.

He forgives you, she thought to herself. You wouldn't be standing here if he didn't. She opened the door, and Trevor was standing there, but instead of his silver power armor, he was wearing a long jacket with a dark blue color, with gloves that had the Guardians' sigil sewn into them.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" he asked.

"No," Illyria assured, chuckling. "Uh, come in, please." She led Trevor into the solar, and they sat across from each other on the couches. She didn't sense any anger from him, but she saw that he was still armed with his lightsword. Either he didn't have trust for her, or he was always supposed to carry it with him.

"How's the, uh...," said Trevor, pointing to his head. "I didn't give you a concussion, did I?"

"I don't think I would've woken up if you did," answered Illyria. "Epsilon are physically weaker than humans."

"You're a strong one, then. Those are metal tonfas I hit you with."

"Actually, they're made from silverwood trees in Torriban," Illyria corrected. "They're as strong as metal, but as light as wood."

"Strong enough to clash with a lightsword, that's for sure," added Trevor. "What's your name?"

"It's Illyria," said Illyria. "Did you arrange all of this, for me?"

"Well, King Robar and Commander Vestarr are, surprisingly, as forgiving as I am," answered Trevor. "It still took a lot to convince them to show mercy."

"May I ask you something, then?" asked Illyria.

"Of course,"

"Why did you?"

"Oh," said Trevor. "Well, that's what I came to ask you about, too. When I was fighting those Silver Hawks, they became a bit nervous that I would win against them, but you were terrified the whole time. Not of me, but that Rivaren guy."

Illyria gasped "Did you kill him?"

"No, I couldn't find him after dealing with you," Trevor answered. "I was wondering about that. Did something happen when you were younger? You didn't join the Silver Hawks by choice, did you?"

"No, I didn't," said Illyria.

"I didn't think so." Illyria sensed relief from Trevor, who lowered his head and sighed, then stood from the couch. "The King has given you a pardon. You're not a prisoner, but you're confined to the Ivory Tower until further notice."

"So, you forgive me for what happened last night?" asked Illyria.

"Of course I do," assured Trevor. "It's not entirely your fault. I just hope you aren't too hard on yourself about it."

"I was just hoping to go back to Torriban for just five minutes and get a few things if I'm going to be staying here for a while," said Illyria. "I won't be going back there any time soon."

"What kind of things?" asked Trevor.

"Oh, you know," Illyria answered, standing up. "Clothes, decorations, maybe weapons." Trevor had an unsure look on his face, but Illyria had no intention of killing him, or anyone else while she was in Mistral. Still, she could sense that Trevor had his doubts.

"You can't leave here," he reminded.

"Oh, I won't even have to leave the room," said Illyria. "Look." She closed her eyes, holding her hand out in front of her, and opening her palm. A green light surrounded her hands as a bright, green pillar of light stretched from the floor to the ceiling.

"What is that?" asked Trevor.

"It's a portal," Illyria answered. "I can make one to anywhere I remember, including my old home in Torriban." She stuck her hand through the portal and then stepped into it, but she held her other hand out to Trevor, who still had doubt in him.

"Come on," she urged. "It's safe." Trevor reluctantly took Illyria's hand, and she pulled him through the portal with her. They ended up in a wide room with a fireplace on one of the walls, and a short table in front of it.

"Nice place," said Trevor. "This is your home?"

"More like a prison," Illyria corrected. "Look outside." Trevor peeked through the curtain of a window to a rainy night sky above a field of tall grass with silver-armored Epsilon soldiers marching through it. Their suits of armor weren't crested with falcons, so they couldn't have been Silver Hawks, which meant that they couldn't sense Trevor and Illyria there.

"They can't sense us, can they?" Trevor asked.

"No," said Illyria, as she picked a sheathed katana with a radiant crystal on its pommel off of the wall. "The Silver Hawks are mostly Generals in Rivenar's army."

"And also assassins," Trevor muttered.

"Hey, can you help me out?" asked Illyria. Trevor went to the wall where she was standing, and she handed him a kusarigama with a silver sickle and chain with a radiant crystal on the weight.

"This is Torriban, isn't it?" asked Trevor.

"Yeah," answered Illyria, handing him the katana.

"So, are the Silver Hawks some kind of ninjas?"

"You could say that, yeah," Illyria answered, as she handed him a heavy leather pouch.

"What's in here?" asked Trevor.

"A dozen more throwing stars," said Illyria. "Could you put that stuff on the table in there? I'll bring the rest."

"Alright," said Trevor, and he brought what she gave him through the portal, putting it on the table. Illyria soon came through the portal after him, wearing a long, black jacket with leather bracers on her wrists. She was carrying a silver bow and what looked like an even longer katana, called an odachi, along with several small bags.

"Are you sure you don't need any more help?" asked Trevor.

"Yeah," Illyria said, putting the bags, and the odachi, on the ground, then she turned around, making a fist to her portal, and it closed. "It'll take me a while to sort all of this out."

"Oh, well, I'll leave you alone, then," said Trevor. "If you..."

"Uh, is this the Ivory Tower?" Illyria suddenly asked.

"Yes, it is," Trevor answered.

"Why don't you show me around?" said Illyria.

"You would be under guard," said Trevor. "It's just a precaution."