Omega's Rebirth-Chapter 842: Inescapable Fate ()

Darkness blanketed the skies of the dark lands. The unending ruins were deserted. By sunlight, sound and life. Forbidden, as the dragons had intended for it to be...as it had been for centuries.

Once, this had been home to a thriving settlement. Once, in a time farther than his memory allowed.

The silence dominated the ruins, as cold and still as death. But occasionally, it was punctuated by the distant shrieks of shadow people. Loud, eerie cries that reverberated for miles.

The death gale was gone but the dangers still lurked in these ruins. Lopsided shadowy beings milled about with hollowed out eyes and gaping maws. The stench of death hung heavily in the air. Thick, pungent... suffocating.

Death, darkness, devastation. That was all these lands knew. All they stood for, centuries before, and even now.

There was nothing that could cleanse these lands. Nothing that could conceal the ugliness of it...

Yet he wanted to save it. Yet he lived to restore it. Yet the very purpose of his existence was hinged on a time and a dynasty he was too young too remember and too unworthy to be a part of.

The outcast, the untalented, the one without potential. That was him.

And wasn’t it ironic that he had only found purpose in the fall of his dynasty? Wasn’t it pathetic that the death of his people was in fact the only reason that someone like him could stand out?

Azkar stood at the edge of the chasm, his head tilted back. The moon was hidden underneath a cloud of shadows and only the barest traces of light could get through. Illuminating these dark runes in a haunting manner.

Even the moonlight was cautious here. Cautious of being termed an accomplice to the darkness.

A slow, mirthless smile stretched across his lips. The chill of night air against his skin was a welcome distraction from his sordid thoughts.

Thoughts that came over him every once in a while. In those moments when he questioned things he had no business questioning.

In those moments when moments when her harbored doubts only the dead had the answers to.

This was one of those moments. He had found himself caught up in them more frequently since his return from the realm of the Forlorn.

Since he suffered the shame of being saved by the very same dragons he had set out to ruin. Not that they knew anything of it.

His magic had recovered rapidly since then. Everyday, he got a step closer to his former strength and while he had kept a low profile this long, he had made a mess of everything by what he had done in the punishment chamber.

For someone who had kept close to the shadows for centuries, it had been a rash thing to do. Maybe his pride had been so greatly wounded by losing his magic, he had gone too far in the bid to remind the stronghold... and himself, that he was still their greatest nemesis.

It was silly, even to him. But the idea of being forgotten, disappearing from existence like the sorcerers before him had been a scary one. And he had come too close to it in Fort Blazed.

Too close to dying without actually achieving anything, or even living at all.

But he wanted them to remember him. The dragons...her, especially her. He wanted to be remembered long after he was gone.

The edge of the silver mask bit into his palm from how tightly he clenched it. It cut deep enough to draw blood. The warm liquid trickled down his fist, disappearing into the mound of earth by his feet.

A shallow grave, freshly dug. An undeserved gesture of respect. The mask had been left behind on the mound, a token of identity.

What did he believe he would find? A body left to rot under the open sky? A pile of ash? Another fuel to feed the rage that had become his identity?

If there were people he knew better than he knew his own self, it would have to be the dragons. Their sickening conviction of honor, that self righteousness, that unyielding belief in their idea of right and wrong.

He wished he could say it was all false. That they lived in their own delusion. But time and time again they had proven him wrong. And here it was once again.

Ida’s grave. A foe of decades laid to rest. It wasn’t exactly a proper burial, they could have done her kinder and let her be laid to rest in Ebonhollow, alongside her kin.

But even this was far more than she deserved. After everything she had done to the dragons.

In truth, Azkar knew she was no more than a pitiful soul. Betting her entire existence on a vengeance she owed no one.

But who was he to judge?

He lived the exact same life, held the exact same convictions. And maybe that was why he saved her, all those decades ago.

Even when it made no sense.

A sorcerer was born to be a solitary existence, forever lurking in the shadows, forever hoping for a day in the light. It was their predestined lot and he had made peace with it.

Not once had he conceived he would allow himself a companion other than Leon.

His only intention of sneaking into Keep Skies had been to witness the fall of the Dragon King with his own eyes. Word of the death challenge had reached Kezrar Dun and he had loathed to accept someone had beaten him to ruin the last Golden Scaled Dragon.

Saving her with a soul transfer and smuggling her to the dark lands had never been a part of his plan. He hadn’t even had a plan at all.

Promising her a more suitable body than that of a random human girl had also happened without any preconceived intent. All of that had come later.

At that moment, all those decades ago, maybe he saw more of himself in the young witch than he would have liked to admit.

A companion in folly...

A woman even more foolish than he was.

She had single handedly turned brother on brother and set in motion a chain of events that brought the Dragon Dynasty close to destruction. She had achieved a feat he hadn’t been able to in centuries.

Of course he was impressed. It was only natural he was curious.

Saving her once had been fate. Saving her a second time...it was a choice he hadn’t made.

Azkar’s eyes went closed. "I told you, didn’t I? I would not get in the way of your desires...but I warned you not to go after her. It wouldn’t end well. It never does."

He sighed heavily. "You forced me to make a choice. You or her...the truth is, it was only ever going to be her."’

"I guess we are both fools." Azkar chuckled derisively.

Why had he come out here again? To explain himself to the dead? To see what becomes of one who existed solely for unsolicited vengeance? A dreary reminder of his probable end? He couldn’t tell.

He didn’t even feel sorry. He had waited for the regret to hit for weeks now and it hadn’t. She had made her choice the moment she put her plan in motion while he was away.

And for her choice, she gave her life. While his own choice...had been to save one over the other.

He didn’t understand most of the things he did these days. Most of his choices...

He had heard once that the greatest of sorcerers were men with no souls. He was a man that had chosen a woman he could never have over a woman who shared his vision. What did that make him?

’Perhaps this is just our inescapable fate.’

Azkar crouched down, placing a palm down over the mound of earth. He splayed his fingers, his eyes going closed.

It didn’t take him too long to realize the rune was gone. He hadn’t hoped to find it after so long, but the dragons didn’t know where to look like he did.

Did the dragons have the rune? Or did Beoruh get his hands on it first?

None of these options were favorable to him, of course.

But the mere thought of the rune in Beoruh’s hands filled Azkar with scorn and loathing.

He knew well, what was done to the untalented, half-breed sorcerers in the dark era.

He hadn’t expected any sorcerers of the original dark council to still live. And to think he had hidden in the shadows and watched Azkar making a fool of himself, claiming to be the last of his kind for all these years...

A slow chill crawled down Azkar’s spine. He didn’t think the day would come so quickly but it had,

It had come too soon. And he wasn’t ready. Could anyone be truly prepared for the day of their death?

Slowly, he rose to his feet and turned.

Standing across from him was a child, barely ten years of age. But his eyes...they held a promise of an excruciating end.

"Beoruh..." Azkar murmured slowly.

Why had he come out here?

To face his own inescapable fate.