N. G. Blackwood
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Chapter 4 - Mausoleum
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 17:10:45 +0000 UTCWhile Erik was undergoing his Talent Awakening, Vidar—the branch leader of the explorers’ guild—sensed that something was amiss.
“What is this?” He rose from his desk and walked toward the window, his eyes scanning the city for anomalies. Nothing apparent stood out but...
It’s almost imperceptible, but the world essences are agitated... Is someone performing a ritual? This feels like… His thoughts raced.
“NOREEN! MAGNUS!” he called loudly, and after a few moments, a slim woman in simple robes and furs entered, accompanied by a man in leather armor.
“Yes, branch leader?” Magnus queried, in a calm voice.
“Check the runic enchantments on the guild, and examine surrounding world essences for illegal activity,” Vidar ordered.
Both of them looked surprised and confused.
“Did something happen?” Noreen asked.
“Someone is performing a High-Rank ritual. I can’t be sure, but they might be targeting someone in the guild.”
The two vice-leaders exchanged a serious look before rushing out to execute their orders.
Vidar nodded, turning his thoughts back to the young man that was currently in the Mirmirsker chamber.
He gazed out the window, whispering, “I’m sorry, Tyr… I’ve done the best I could for your son. From now on, his destiny is in his own hands. For his sake, I hope he doesn’t find out what happened all those years ago…”
***
Outside the explorers’ guild, Erik saw Taron waiting for him.
“Hey, what happened?” his friend asked, his voice tinged with concern. He knew him too well and could probably sense that something was wrong.
“N-Nothing… I-I’m just tired.” Erik forced a smile. He didn’t want anyone to know yet. If they did, it would become real.
Taron gave him a skeptical look, but seemed to come to the wrong conclusion. “It’s alright, brother. Getting a Low-Grade Talent isn’t the end of the world.”
His friend tried to cheer him up in his own way, but that just made him feel worse. Taron probably didn't ask what Talent he had Awakened to avoid making things worse, which was fine with Erik.
“I’m going home to rest. I’ll come see you one of these days,” he said, eager to get away as quickly as possible.
“Alright, rest up. Come by anytime if you want to talk,” his friend replied, and they parted ways.
Stumbling through the streets of Skulheim in a haze, Erik did his best to avoid people.
The city was in a festive mood, and any tavern he passed was filled with laughter and singing. The older generation—those who had Awakened their Talents, often referred to as Talent Holders, or also known as Rune Bearers or Refiners—put on dazzling displays for the crowds, using their Abilities to entertain.
Some launched massive fireballs into the sky, painting it with brilliant colors. Others performed intricate water displays, while a few sang with captivating voices that could have moved even the most hardened warriors. All around the city, similar scenes were unfolding, but Erik found it suffocating.
He couldn’t remember how, but eventually he found himself standing in front of his house. He stared at the front door, lost in a trance. What could he tell his parents? He couldn’t go inside.
He walked over to a barrel by the door to splash some water on his face. Maybe that would help. Just before he did, though, he paused to look at his reflection in the dim light.
A young man stared back at him, but one who seemed to have aged by several years in just one day. His raven-black hair fell in untamed waves, framing an angular face with eyes as dark and fathomless as a moonless night.
His life had seen its share of ups and downs, but mostly downs, and it showed. His thin physique and average height made him quite unassuming among his peers.
He stared at his reflection, bitterness creeping into his thoughts.
Me... an Ulednar? What a joke!
Why had he ever believed he could do it? Maybe it was just a dream, but it was one that had given him strength and purpose over the years. He couldn’t help but remember when that dream first took root.
And a distant memory of his parents surfaced in his mind…
***
Sitting on the grass in front of a small log house, a young boy was drawing runes on paper or at least trying to.
His parents were close by. The father was engraving intricate runes on a massive stone slab. And the mother was flipping through a large book. A day like any other for them.
All of a sudden a low thudding sound, like a distant drum, echoed through the air. The child thought a parade was about to start in town, and excitedly looked towards his parents. But their faces were serious. Confused, Erik wondered why—parades were supposed to be fun!
Horns blared all around. And in a flurry of motion, his parents took him to their neighbor’s house. Some had already gathered there, including Erik's close friends. He didn’t know what was happening, and fear began to creep in.
His father set him down inside the house and spoke in a calm but serious voice, “Erik, stay here and listen to Freya's mother. We’ll be back later.”
They both gave him a hug and kissed him on the forehead. Then disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Erik rushed to the window where everyone was. They were looking through it with frightened expressions and whispering to each other.
Then he saw it too.
In the distance, out there in the forest not far from the edge of town, explorers and soldiers were battling a massive, dark, bellowing figure. They were like pesky little flies around a dog—only managing to make it angrier. Erik couldn’t imagine anything being able to take down such a behemoth.
Primal fear gripped him.
Out of nowhere, a figure leaped at the creature. Erik recognized the long blond hair and black armor of his father, who slammed into the monster and sent it hurling backwards with ease. His eyes widened. He knew his father was strong, but this was the first time he saw just how much.
It struck him like thunder. His dad was incredible!
Then the boy saw his mother’s long black hair and green armor, as she rose above the trees on wood and vines. She waved her spear, and the forest grew and came to life, diving for the creature and restraining it. The pitiful monster struggled to free itself but couldn’t budge. Erik had seen his mother move grass and trees before, but he didn’t know she could control so many plants.
She was maybe even more incredible than his father!
“Thank the Exalted we have two Ulednar in our town,” one of the neighborhood moms said.
“Yeah, with them, the Nilgrim will be taken care of,” an old grandpa added.
Erik looked around from the adults to his friends, Taron, Freya, Sivfrid and Halmund. They were all watching with wide eyes and the same look—a look of awe and admiration.
The young boy turned his gaze back to his parents, who now stood above the motionless monster. They were tall and radiant, towering over all others.
“Ulednar…” the boy mumbled under his breath, his admiration for them soaring to new heights. In that moment, he decided he wanted to be just like them when he grew up.
***
Even after all these years, he vividly remembered the birth of his dream.
How simple-minded was I? Erik could practically taste his ignorance.
Trying to shake it off, he splashed his face a few times. The cold water sobered him slightly, but it only made things worse.
Unsure of what to do, he turned his gaze toward the large graveyard and the log house on the other side of it. The kind face of Dvalin, the long-bearded old man, flashed through his mind. He had been a guardian and a mentor over the years, guiding him and supporting him. Erik wasn’t sure how he could face him now. He didn't want to disappoint him.
Trying to keep himself from falling apart, he stood there, marooned in his thoughts.
He didn’t know how long he was there, but the distant caw of a bird and a pale light drew his attention. At the far edge of the graveyard, near its intersection with the forest, a soft teal glow emanated from a small building.
Erik knew that section of the graveyard well. I’ve never seen anyone visit that area… and at this time of night? That was strange.
And that bird call… At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating it or if it was real.
He decided to investigate, and slowly made his way through the graves.
Wooden swords or staffs were embedded in some, while others had herbs scattered across them. The burial customs of different clans varied, and Erik had learned most of them. He knew who was buried recently and he could tell who had visited them not too long ago.
The closer he got to his destination, the more broken and decayed the graves became. Some were covered in a thick layer of vegetation, with the runes indicating who the person was no longer visible.
Is it getting colder? Erik thought as he slowly walked through the mist that clung low to the ground.
He finally reached the source of the soft light. It was an old mausoleum, overgrown with vines that nearly concealed the white marble structure. The inscription above the door had long ago faded under the relentless tides of the seasons.
His gaze was fixed on the half-open door of the mausoleum, barely hanging on its hinges. It was a wonder it hadn’t collapsed entirely.
The pale glow was coming from inside.
Alright… I’m most likely not imagining this, Erik thought, conflicted. The events of the day had already drained him emotionally, and he struggled with what to do.
Well, at this point, what do I have to lose?
He slowly pushed the door open, mentally cursing at the loud screeching sound it made. But his irritation vanished as soon as he saw what lay inside.
In the space between two stone coffins, an ethereal, transparent teal egg hovered in the air. It was the size of a fist, and it seemed to be drawing some sort of energy toward itself.
Erik stood, mesmerized by the scene. Barely visible runes were inscribed on the egg, but their meaning escaped him.
His hands and legs shook slightly, and he told himself it was from the cold. He had half a mind to run away and inform someone about what was happening, but his curiosity held him in place.
In the next moment a soft cracking sound echoed through the mausoleum. Then another. And another.
Finally, the egg cracked open, and a small vulture flew out.
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