Seclusion Epilogue
By Aujang Abadi
Kain sat, alone, atop his throne of crystal, looking out across the heavy expanse of blackness surrounding the bright, glowing core of the Moon. It pulsated with raw, unleashed power, crackling with the energy of the supernatural. His fingertips stroked the painstakingly carved armrest of the crystal masterpiece, tracing each individual lattice, each carefully planned design.
His days, while mostly uneventful, could not be called boring. There was a strange peace to this life, of shimmering crystal and harmonic sounds. He casually looked away as one of his minions stepped through the transport, immediately kneeling before him.
"Master." She fell to one knee, her fiery red hair spilling onto the ground below. "Please forgive me this intrusion of your time." She proceeded to lower her head to the ground, bowing in complete homage to him.
Kain didn't bother responding, one nod was given as his gaze turned back to the fiery orb. She rose slowly, coming to stand directly before the throne.
"If I may ask, have you perused the contents of the study?" She drew back, biting her lip. Such a direct question often merited a blow. None fell, as Kain nodded in silence once more. "I have brought you the manual that will finish your training." She hastily drew out an ebony tome, bowing her head and extending it towards him. Kain drew his gaze back to her, waiting a moment before speaking.
"Elthasa. That is your name, is it not?" He retrieved the tome, gently laying it next to his throne.
"Yes, Master. It is the name I have been granted. Does it warrant changing?" She kept her head bowed.
"No." He looked over to the shimmering core, speaking quietly. "My father raped you many times, did he not?"
"Y-yes." The stammer in her voice came more from the shock of the shame laden in his voice, rather than the question.
"He burns there, now, in the Core. I can still see his body, sometimes, and the hungry force of that flaming mass." Kain turned his head back to Elthasa, his blue eyes flickering over her form. "You may leave now." She nodded and quickly turned, and nearly reached the transport before she stopped.
"Master... we are all dark ones, yes. Some, more than others. But just as Zemus could be tainted, so can we be purified." Kain's eyes remained fixated on the Core. "We are merely different, Master. No better, no worse... merely different."
Her words hung in the air as she disappeared, thrumming into Kain's mind. "Merely different," repeated Kain, "merely different." He rose, stretching for the tome and cracking it open. In it, the spidery scrawl of the Interstellans lined each page, detailing the history of Wyvern, and his role in the balance. But this book contained much more. As he flipped to the end, he reached a series of blank pages. It was where he would begin his own part of the legend. The prelude to the end.
Each of the four Wyverns had played their own intrinsic role in the scheme of time, for as none of the Lunaran compendiums listed the third force in the universe, Interstellans took careful note of it. Time was the universe's ultimate master, it brought birth to legend and culmination to prophecy. The first Wyvern had fulfilled his destiny by crafting the inner sanctum, and forging the Murasame, the weakest of the Ordained weapons. The second Wyvern brought about the creation of the Masamune, thus completing the set of weapons to be held by one of Eblan. The third Wyvern had a very intrinsic role, it was from him the White lance was brought to existence. The tools the Wyverns used were light, thus giving them decision over the nature of the weapon they would create. His father had wrought the Crystal sword, and gave way to himself, the first true Wyvern. And now, his place laid before him, an open expanse of pages to which his hand would write the details of his own addition in the wheels of time. With a sigh, he closed the manual and strode from the chambers, through the transport, and began the long trek to the Crystal Palace.
None of the denizens challenged him as he slowly made his way up the maze of levels that were his home. Somewhere along the way, he broke off a small shard of quartz and began whittling at it. Finally, he burst up through the cortex of the eight crystals, landing smoothly on the floor of the Lunaran Palace. The crystals hummed in response, giving their admittance to the first Interstellan since their conception.
Kain began walking again, into the mausoleum, a place of splendid melancholy beauty. He stood in the doorway, letting the incredible sadness wash over him. Ahead, an old, wizened man crooked his head up, peering back towards Kain.
"So you've come." FuSoYa nodded. "I have been expecting you." His robes rustled softly as he shifted in his chair, turning to face the approaching Kain. "Golbez has opted for a century of rest. He felt his soul not pure enough to begin training."
"And the others?" Kain came to stand in front of FuSoYa, stopping and tilting his head up slightly to meet the elevated Lunaran's gaze.
"They sleep forever, until prophecy awakens them. Go to her. You know where she is." FuSoYa waved a gaunt hand towards the left.
"My thanks." Kain strode off again, towards the sepulchur that called to him insistently. His hands fell away from the whittling, having completed their job. Blue eyes gazed down upon a dusty tomb, hiding the figure beneath its surface. Painstakingly, Kain removed the dust, careful not to scratch the surface, until the face of his mother stared back at him, serene and peaceful in her sleep. "Mother... how much pain I must have caused you. Forgive me, for being born." He brought up the shard, now a delicate rose, and placed it directly above her heart. "For all the years I cursed my parents for abandoning me." He placed a kiss above her forehead, and then exited the room, his last debt paid.
The days, months, years that followed were spent in study, and of quiet observance of the Core. He worked in silence, poring over all the manuscripts left by his predecessors, losing all track of time, if it was ever possible to track such an elusive beast. And the Core unfailingly shone its light, drawing his eyes to where Wyvern was born, and where he would die. And on one instance, lost to time, he began inscribing words upon the pages that awaited his use.
Time, as it is, and as it was, continues to pass, and although I lie outside of its tides, I still walk along its shores, forever following its gentle flow. However long I have remained here, I shall never know. The truth of my heritage, or what I choose to make of it, lies in the pages I've read a thousand times, and still, I find no justification for my existence, save that I am the first True Wyvern. Soon, he shall be born, the final Wyvern, and the second True Wyvern, my son. In the next war, I shall be the caretaker of the weapon he shall come to challenge me for. Prophecy dictates that I must meet him in combat, to prove his worthiness to one day assume my place. Such is the way of the Interstellans.
Kain set the feather down, wearily, and leaned his head against his throne. Exhaustion washed over him; he was so very tired. His blue eyes closed, and all turned black but the Core, pulsating within his sleep, drifting into his soul.
He dreams of forging his weapon.