The Storm King

“What fine work…” Nestor murmured as he set about his grisly business. “Whoever did this is a master without compare…”

“High praise coming from you,” Leon observed.

Following the defeat of the monster below Artorion, Leon’s orders were carried out swiftly, with all the teams exploring the tunnels recalled and the enormous cavern sealed off until a more coordinated and prepared expedition could be organized to explore it. They didn’t leave empty-handed, however, and took the monster with them. Upon returning to Artorion, Leon had given the carcass to Nestor for study while he personally saw to the grand funeral of those who fell in battle against it.

It had been a raucous affair, though he hadn’t expected much else. Some of the fallen had been from the Lion Tribe, and they celebrated their fellow Tribesmen’s deaths with more gusto than anyone else. There was mourning, too, but for the most part, it seemed that Leon’s people sought to honor the sacrifice publicly while keeping their mourning private.

That didn’t stop him from treating the dead as heroes and ordering the construction of a grand mausoleum to commemorate all those who’d died during the establishment of the new city. It would be constructed on one of the nine peaks that his palace would occupy, to showcase how he felt about their sacrifice. Few would actually be interred there given how many they’d already lost just from the three missing arks on top of those who would be handled in other ways according to Tribal tradition, but their names, at least, would be recorded for posterity.

When all of that had finished, Leon returned to Nestor’s lab, finding that the man had not only gotten much work done, but he appeared to have set aside all of his other work to focus on the monster instead. Leon had been a bit concerned when the dead man fed much of the monster’s flesh to his now quite large cat, but he hesitantly trusted his ancient kinsman when he said the meat wasn’t poisonous.

‘At least he kept the hide,’ Leon had thought, seeing the tough flensed hide in a disorganized pile in a corner. Messy, but Nestor had promised to have it cleaned soon—not until he was finished, though, since he still had plenty of carcass to slice apart.

As Leon watched the dead man work, he informed Nestor of all that had happened during the battle, including the soul realm attack that even affected the Thunderbird. Nestor had been interested from the beginning from Leon’s description of the strange malaise he’d felt down in the cavern, but until then, he’d chalked it up to a strange reaction Leon had had to the toxic magic that permeated the cavern.

He changed his mind once Leon began describing the battle with the monster.

When Leon finished, a stunned Nestor finally set aside the tools he’d just been standing and holding, frozen as he was from Leon’s description of the fight.

“Look at all of this, Leon,” Nestor said as he drew attention to the monster’s skull. It had been somewhat cleaned, but that was hard to tell since the bone was pitch black. “Ignore the burns; the hide was tough, and I had to use a fire knife to cut through.”

“How bad are the burns?” Leon asked as he closely examined the enormous skull without touching it, looking for the burns.

“Not that bad,” Nestor said a little defensively. “I’m sure you can tell exactly what has me so interested, though.”

Leon nodded, easily able to see what Nestor was talking about even with the skull’s dark color serving to hide some of the details.

The ancient rune on the creature’s forehead had been so deeply carved that Leon could see it on its skull, though it no longer glowed. More interesting was that the rest of the skull was also covered in runic patterns, though none that Leon recognized.

“One large ancient rune,” Nestor explained as he traced a few lines down the skull and to the neck bones arranged below it, similarly dark in color and similarly covered in complex engravings. “Every bone, no matter how small, is a part of it.”

Leon glanced at the waiting-to-be-stripped legs and tail of the creature and asked, “Have you seen enough to know what it is?”

“Something this unique and bespoke?” Nestor asked incredulously. “I have no idea where to start! I’ve never seen something like this before in my life!”

Leon momentarily sensed the Thunderbird’s attention. [Get in here,] she demanded. [Bring Nestor and that creature’s remains, too.]

Hearing the urgency in her voice, Leon hurried to comply. In but a moment, he stood in his Mind Palace with Nestor and the remains of the creature before him, sans what Nestor’s cat had already eaten. He’d even brought the hide with him.

Waiting for him was the Thunderbird in her human form, while Xaphan stood off to one side, not quite with them, but more than close enough to listen in and contribute if he felt like it.

“A curious beast,” the Thunderbird whispered as she examined the skeleton that Nestor had bared. “I’ve never seen this grotesque thing before… but this technique of carving enchantments upon bones, I have.”

Leon frowned deeply. “As a punishment?” he guessed. “Or some means of enhancement?”

“Both,” the Thunderbird answered. “I’ve seen cultures carve their own bones to strengthen themselves with the runes, while others would use it as a method of torture. I’ve never seen an enchantment this extensive used for anything other than a show of devotion, however. It would have been indescribably excruciating to undergo something like this, beyond the levels of mere torture.”

Leon’s frown managed to grow deeper still. “It resembled a creature that started a bloodline depicted on a fresco in that underground city. Those same frescos depicted that creature’s death… I think.”

“I remember,” the Thunderbird said. “To finish my thought, Leon, before you interrupted—I’ve only ever seen adherents of the Primal Gods mutilate themselves like this before.”

“Does the enchantment itself look familiar?” Nestor asked.

“Every one was unique to the person undergoing the process,” the Thunderbird murmured as she examined the upper half of the creature’s skeleton from every angle. “Still, I can see some similarities in the techniques used.”

“I don’t see anything like my transformation enchantment,” Leon pointed out.

“No,” the Thunderbird agreed, “neither do I.”

Concerns filled Leon’s mind. “So then… where did this creature come from if the original died long ago? Did someone else figure out how to transform? If they worshipped the Primal Gods, then did they stumble onto some old knowledge that helped them in the same way we took Krith’is’ work for ourselves?”

“Possible, though extraordinarily unlikely,” the Thunderbird replied. “Krith’is was a Primal God who experimented upon humanity without reservation. Truly, few knew the workings of a human better than he did. When the Primal Gods claim to have created humanity, Krith’is is both proof that they did and that they didn’t. Proof that they did in that the Primal Gods knew more about humanity than the Primal Devils, but proof that they didn’t because if the Primal Gods created humanity, then why would Krith’is need to experiment upon them?

“But to get back to your speculation, Leon… Many Ascended and Divine Beasts have existed throughout history. None have ever managed to recreate what I, Krith’is, and you have managed with the transformation enchantment. Some of the most powerful beings in the universe have tried and failed in that endeavor. I can’t imagine some obscure Clan who were enslaved upon arrival in the Nexus to possess such a sought-after power.”

Without a word, Leon simply gave the creature’s remains a pointed look.

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“There’s something else going on here, for sure,” the Thunderbird quickly stated. “But… I just don’t see such a discovery happening out of the blue like this.”

“Even with some circumstantial evidence that they may be connected to Primal Gods?” Leon asked.

“Very circumstantial,” the Thunderbird added. “Bone carvings aren’t new. These evoke Primal God techniques, but that doesn’t mean they are Primal God techniques.”

“The circumstantial evidence is piling up, though,” Leon replied. “My transformation comes from a Primal God technique, too.”

The Thunderbird sighed, conceding the point. “Fine. Better to overprepare than underprepare. But I’m still leaning against the involvement of some Primal God. What I find more concerning is how that thing was able to attack your soul realm. It hit me!”

“You both have told me that soul realm attacks are fairly common in the Nexus,” Leon said, glancing between the Thunderbird and Nestor, though his gaze lingered on the latter for a few seconds longer than the former.

“And they are,” Nestor unashamedly responded. “You’ve done some work in readying yourself to face such threats, but hardly enough.” He turned his head toward some of the fortresses that Leon had constructed on far-away mountain peaks in his soul realm. He fully admitted that his defenses were rudimentary at best, but they were geared more toward preventing soul realm invasions rather than attacks like what the creature had used against him.

Eager to move on, Leon pointed out, “Many of my people were affected, too. Those with bloodlines.”

“An attack that targets those with Inherited Bloodlines…?” Nestor murmured in thought. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin designing something like that!”

“Possibly some unique power to the bloodline of this creature,” the Thunderbird speculated.

“How can I prevent something like this from hitting me again?” Leon asked. “That rune you used seemed to work well…”

“I doubt it would work that well against a more directed and focused attack,” the Thunderbird replied, “but it’s still a good place to start.”

Nestor added, “I’ll teach you a few more useful runes and wards. I’m sure you’ll be able to work out more from there.”

“Trying to weasel your way out of teaching more than that, dead man?” Leon asked a little cheekily.

“I’m busy,” Nestor replied. “I’d rather focus on my projects than deal with you.”

Leon scoffed before turning back to the Thunderbird. In a more serious tone, he asked, “Any sign from the Great Black Dragon?” He scanned the Mists of Chaos around his soul realm in concern, wondering if he might see a hint of red-orange out there. All he saw was the light gray mist without a hint of color anywhere.

“No sign of him,” the Thunderbird replied, sounding more than a little angered.

“Fine,” Leon growled. “Our lives might actually be improved without him in it.”

The Thunderbird clicked her tongue. “Perhaps…” She then spun around to face Nestor. “You! Finish this work quickly! I want to see the entire enchantment!”

Nestor all but jumped at her command, showing her a level of deference that he’d never shown Leon, which irked Leon only a little bit.

“And you, my boy,” the Thunderbird said as she turned back to Leon, her tone softening considerably, “there may be more clues down there. Aesii though it is…”

“Huh?” Leon responded. “‘Icy’?”

“Aesii,” the Thunderbird corrected. “The name for these places. The old name, I should say. In the more modern tongue, it would mean ‘the Blessed’. Short for Aesii Ouratun, or ‘Cave of the Blessed’. In some ancient beliefs, the dead passed through such caves on their journey to the afterlife.”

“I’ve heard,” Leon replied.

“Some of those beliefs started with the Primal Gods, you should know, though in my day, the premiere way to bury someone was with a Heartwood seed in their chest. But a few words of caution, Leon: Blessed areas are far from what their name may imply. They are dangerous to linger in. If the magic that comes from the river sinks deep enough into your body to reach your bones, it may interfere with your ability to produce magic power in your body.”

Leon shivered. Though he now had an Origin Spark within him generating origin power, which then decayed into magic power, his bone marrow still produced a large amount of magic power which added to his reserves constantly. Losing any of that would be an awful blow to his power, without even touching on any other side effects.

“I’ll try and find what I can,” Leon stated. “I was going to do that anyway, actually.”

“Good. Get to it, then, my boy! Nothing else should take priority!”

Leon gave her a skeptical look, but slowly nodded, not quite wanting to press the issue no matter how obligated he felt to do so. He had competent leaders overseeing the construction of Artorion, and many of the decisions that required his input had already been made days, months, or even years ago. He could afford to personally explore this Aesii for at least a little while.

“Don’t forget about my wisps, Leon!” Nestor said as Leon turned toward his throne.

“I haven’t, dead man,” Leon irritably replied.

“And if I’m going to be in here, someone needs to watch out for my cat!”

Leon rolled his eyes, endeavoring to simply pull the cat into his soul realm when he returned to his physical body. The thing was lazy, and he trusted Nestor to keep it in check, so he didn’t judge it to be a threat to his soul realm.

With his course set, Leon sat upon his throne.

---

For several days, Leon focused his attention on securing and exploring the Aesii. He kept his exploration team small, amounting to Siddi and Anzu—the former only after his Ulta suit was repaired, and the latter just to watch his back and report to Artorion if he found any other creatures in the Aesii. That didn’t stop Anzu from taking the exploration incredibly seriously, though.

On the first day, Leon didn’t return to the Aesii but instead supervised the securing of its entrances. Most of the tunnels were collapsed and warded, but three were chosen to be fortified and heavily secured.

The gates his engineers built were enormous and sturdy despite the haste with which they were built, and Leon was confident that when closed, even a tenth-tier mage would struggle to get past before he or another post-Apotheosis mage could arrive. The gates also served as a way to help isolate the tunnels leading into the Aesii from the toxic magic within, alleviating a quiet worry he had about building his city above a place so ‘blessed’.

By the second day, he was ready to continue his explorations, but he held off as Clear Day finally made it to Artorion. The tau had waited for days but saw no sign of the missing arks. Though he hated to do so, Leon announced that they were now presumed lost with all hands. Alcander and Sofia took the announcement hard, but with new threats making themselves known, Alcander was getting ready to launch himself back into his work, despite Leon’s offers to continue taking the time he needed to grieve.

Only on the third day did Leon finally enter the Aesii again to begin his explorations. He and Anzu found little of note, though they found many more frescos throughout the nine city-pillars, especially higher up in the larger buildings. With more time to explore, he also found more bodies, though not as many as he would’ve thought given the size of the settlements.

‘Many must have gotten away, then,’ Leon presumed. As strong as the monster had been, it clearly wasn’t built for securing territory. Leon took some comfort in that, as it was a quiet indicator that it was the only one of its kind.

Siddi was able to join him and Anzu on the fourth day, and they widened their search, focusing on the tunnel that the creature had come from.

And this was where Leon finally started to find something that caught his attention.

The creature had come from what had looked like just another entrance to the Aesii, but Leon’s magic senses indicated that this tunnel wasn’t nearly as long as the others and didn’t slope upward. Instead, it led to a smaller settlement, though one much more ornate than usual. Everywhere he could see was covered in red and gold marble, and with enough large buildings set in the walls to house some hundred wealthy families at least.

The buildings were largely empty, save for the one farthest from this cavern’s entrance; this building was the largest, with the ghostly trees and foliage serving as decorative flourishes in the same way a palace’s gardener might use any other kind of flower or tree. It struck Leon as an odd choice of decoration, but if the people here had no problem with the Aesii’s toxic magic, then he supposed they weren’t the worst choices for decoration.

More eye-catching than the foliage, however, were the piles of skeletal bodies that Leon found stacked up like a nest in what he guessed had once been the master bedroom. Hundreds of corpses had wound up back there, their bones now so intermingled he doubted anyone could ever sort out which bones belonged together—and that wasn’t even touching on how many bones had been shattered presumably under the weight of the creature if this was, indeed, its nest.

A feeling of visceral disgust hit him at the sight of so many human remains, but Anzu didn’t seem to have that problem; the griffin explored more enthusiastically than Leon did, even pulling a few pieces of broken and rusty armor from the pile, indicating that at least some of those piled here had been wearing their kit. Whatever enchantments those bits of armor might’ve had were long gone, though, explaining the rust.

Leon resigned himself to not finding anything notable on that day either, until Anzu shifted around a few shattered bones and pulled something particularly shiny from the nest.

“Look, brother!” Anzu cried out, holding up his prize with pride.

In his hands was a distinctive silver mask, identical to what had been depicted in the frescos. It appeared untouched by the decaying effects of the Aesii, appearing almost freshly forged. Leon took the mask and turned it over in his hands a few times, wondering if it was just a trophy taken when the people who’d lived here escaped their bondage. Anzu, meanwhile, went back to shuffling around in that area of the nest and retrieved something else: a perfectly preserved set of golden robes, again identical to what Leon had seen on the fresco. Leon could sense the magic within the robes and noted that the enchantments in the golden thread were still robust despite how old they could be.

‘Was one of their enemies here?’ he wondered. At the least, he made a note to ask Justin about people wearing gold robes and silver masks the next time he spoke with the man. For now, though he hated to admit it, it seemed that whatever had happened to these people would have to remain a mystery.

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