Flame in the Mist

[Wizzar 613]

Spoiler

 

 

Rite of the Guiding Three

 

 

 

Roaming the hazy, volcanic terrain beyond the walls of Cartref Mor, the young, muscle-strapped Adunian collected the herbs and salt water that was required. Sweat dripped from his pale skin as he inhaled heavy breaths. His ashen gaze focused on the molten path with a fiery determination. Time passed slowly as the searing heat wore down on the young warrior, each moment more difficult than the next. His hand periodically hovered the sword that sat on his hip, hoping for his chance to prove himself. 

 

Drifting through darkness, a burst of bright orange and red light blinded his vision. The light began to fade, the crackling of a fire echoed around him as a familiar fireplace came into view. Closer and closer he floated towards the flame until it enveloped his form, his body twisting in agony as his skin blistered. Unable to produce a scream, he prayed to the Ancestors for mercy. For what felt like eternity, his consciousness suffered in fiery torment until he forced himself further into the flames. Immediately, his pain subsided as the burning visions twisted around him to reveal the burning visage of the familiar minotaur, his greatest feat.

 

The young adunian pressed forward in the blazing desert, climbing up and down ashen black and red mountains. Eventually, he heard a growl in the near distance, a smirk etched into his face as he moved in its direction. As he rounded a hill, a beast leaped at him from behind, digging its claws across his back. The warrior shifted his form to view a snarling, badger-sized bear. Two more of these beasts approached from afar, one noticeably bigger than the others. Gripping his blade, he darted past the lava bear to leap onto a large rock. He raised his blade in a defensive posture, ragged breaths escaping his sweating form. 

 

 

The burning head of the bull thrashed about until its eyes became void of life. His consciousness was then carried away back to the tavern of Cartref Mor. A spectator to those who merrily ate and drank about a table, he recognized a few of his new Adunian friends. The voices of the three Ancestors whispered prayers in his subconscious as he witnessed the scene. As the voices faded, the illustration before him vanished to return him to darkness.

 

Leaping off the stone to the right most bear, the warrior stabbed his blade deep into its neck, immediately ending its life. The other two bears pounced forward, one bit into his ankle and the other into thigh. The young adunian yanked his sword from the dead bear, swiping it horizontally, to detach a limb from the smaller lava bear. The larger bear leaped forward, clawing the adunian’s face before rolling down a hill. The young warrior’s blood and sweat dripped from his figure, forming a crimson pool at his feet. Unleashing a roar, he stabbed forward towards the smaller lava bear, piercing its head. It was not long after that the larger bear suffered a similar fate after providing one more scar to the face of the warrior. Falling to his knees, the warrior-to-be closed his eyes to offer a prayer to Elendil. 

 

Cocooned in darkness, the whispers of the Elendil, Maria, and Braen reverberated across the emptiness sending him forward, back into his physical form. The young adunian lifted his body out of the bloodied waters, his eyes looking up to the stone ceiling before shifting to his guide. Gradually, he stepped out of the tub, its crimson contents scattering across the dirt floor. The voice of Elendil rang through his head, repeating the same line over and over again. 

 

 

“Rise Aonghus Seragon, your flame shall be your glory”