Primalcraft: Sins of Bygone days (book 2)

Epilogue

Frank Lloyd brushed off his long trenchcoat as he entered the dark and dank room. The only source of light was a large, stone chalice filled with green fire that burned furiously.

"Why, mate, does it smell like bacon in here?" asked Frank and spotted an empty cage.

"The Hearth of Ire needed a sacrifice," Nemain said. His glowing green eyes did not leave the flames and he never turned around to look at Frank who was hardly a threat in his eyes.

"Sacrifice? Should I gather some suitable humans? There aren't many around though so it will be suspicious," Frank said while scratching his unshaved face.

"Leave it be, there is a reason why I use animals," Nemain said and played with the fire but did not burn his hand. The fire just stroked the Archon's skin like it was his lover. "I sense a new power in these lands."

"Yeah, the lad you are so fascinated off has created a new World Tree. In the soil of the old one."

"That lad has many abilities it seems."

Nemain seems to ignore him as the room was silenced for quite a while. Frank scratched his neck before taking the liberty to speak again.

"I must ask. Why did you show yourself? You could just have pretended that Ahriman attacked you out of nowhere. No one would have believed him."

Nemain sighed and turned his eyes towards Frank who felt a chill run up his spine. The eyes of this man still made Frank weary.

"I... Don't know. I suddenly was compelled to show my true face."

"Compelled? By Ahriman?"

"No, by fate... Moira changed my fate and forced me to reveal myself."

"The Anterion? Why would the Anterion care to change your fate? Does she even care for this small incident?" Frank asked with a surprised look on his face. He had never even considered that the eyes of the Anterions were on them. It made him excited. What treasures could be found? What magic was hidden by the Anterions?

Nemain walked over to a close-by table and poured himself and Frank a drink. He handed the wine glass to Frank who took it without protest.

"I do not know. She would never care for such a small matter," Nemain looked down into his glass and for the first time since Frank met him. He saw a shadow of emotion on Nemain's face. Disbelief?

"It couldn't be. No, fateweaving needs to be taught by Moira herself. Who would-

"Fateweaving?"

"A powerful magic that allows you to send requests to change fates to Moira. Of course she needs to approve of it and she rarely does. Why would she make such a large change? Or rather, for whom?"

"Ahriman?"

Nemain snorted," Hardly, Moira hate his guts. But maybe..."

Nemain did not continue his sentence and Frank did not tempt his fate by asking. He just changed the topic.

"Are you still brewing the war?"

"The war is already here and feeding me plenty," said Nemain and watched the flames again while taking a sip of his wine. "All we need to do know is to watch them rip each other apart."

"You remember our agreement?"

"Do not be frightened. I will not touch your son."

Frank was appeased by his promise but noticed that Nemain never said that his son would not be harmed. Well, he was never a trusting guy and had already ensured that Alex would not be hurt.

"And your end of the bargain?"

"It's done. They have no idea that I have taken control over people." Frank said and waived one of his rings. "My puppets will stir the pot and the flames will continue to burn."

Nemain seemed satisfied and walked over to the flames. He once again played with them as he seemed deep in thought.

"Good, I am not done feeding yet and I will not let anyone stop my feast. Not Ahriman. Not the mortals and not that child."