Forgive Me

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Another day gone. Another battle fought. More dead, more graves dug, more bodies buried or burned, more gravestones carved or lit. The Nether continues its march across the Overworld, and the Voltaris, our own kind, lend their strength and tenacity to the underworld's cause.

It wasn't so long ago that I had hoped the Voltaris could be our allies in this fight. That the five clans would unite to defeat this menace, and the rift between us could be healed. I hoped that Ingressus would be the key to this peace, that fate had brought him, the young Voltaris master, to Nestoria for this reason. But now, I question whether fate had anything to do with it. Maybe it was simply chance.

I was so proud when he won. The underfed, half-drowned child I'd met all those years ago was now standing before the clans as the best of the best, poised to become the hero of all of Ardonia. His name would go down in history, written on the Walls of Time for countless future generations.

I didn't know he had planned to reveal his true identity there at the tournament, but I should have. He never felt any shame for being Voltaris, only hiding his identity for the sake of his own safety. He was an honorable Ardoni, as unbelievable as many would find that now. But he was. He would not have wanted to accept the Primes under a false pretense.

Forgive me, Ingressus. I should have defended you then and there.

I never intended to abandon him. I had planned to wait until the next morning, to let the shock die down and to give me time to prepare an argument for the other masters. I still believed that they could be convinced to give him a chance once they were calmer– even if they would not trust him with the Primes, I could convince them to let him prove the Voltaris were not what we thought they were. This was our chance to make peace, surely we should take it! I could make them see reason, I was sure of it; I would only need time.

But now we will never know.

When Kaltaria burned, I didn't want to believe the rumors. I wanted to believe that it was an attack by the Nether, and they had stolen the Supporium Prime so it could not be used against them. I told myself that they had heard about the tournament, and wanted to stop us from entering the war. But no. It was a single Ardoni with revenge in his heart, one not capable of being in four places at once.

After Sendaria was attacked, I could deny it no longer. Survivors spoke in hushed tones of only one attacker, an Ardoni wielding a diamond-bladed staff and a sword of fire that matched Ingressus's. Between the two villages he'd killed two past Champions, and left another at death's door. Accounts all confirmed that he had used an Aggroblast song, along with the Supporium Prime in the attack on Sendaria.

I could deny the truth no longer. The attacker was Ardoni, not Netheran. The attacker was Ingressus.

What did he think when he arrived and saw Nestoria prepared for battle? When he saw Ardoni he knew, had lived beside, rallied against him? Did he believe that we had turned on him as well, now that his secret was revealed? Did he believe that I would side with the other masters rather than openly aid a Voltaris? Did he think I only cared for him because he was in Nestoris colors? Forgive me, Ingressus, for ever making you believe that!

And forgive me, my clan, for bringing this calamity upon you. Forgive me for every grave lit because of my mistakes.

If I had known back then what Ingressus would become, would I have acted differently when Achillean brought me to him? Would I have reported him to the other masters? Would I... spirits forgive me, would I have killed him? There was no sign of the Deathsinger in him then. How could the child who washed up on our shores have become Ardonia's nightmare?

I have my suspicions about what the Prime Songs can do to an Ardoni, largely informed by Ingressus himself. He had told me about the stories that his clan had passed down from just before their exile, before the Primes were taken from them. He told me about the general who was said to have lost his mind wielding the Primes, the commander who committed atrocities that she would have been horrified at herself for just months earlier. The Prime Songs corrupt, the Voltaris said. Maybe they were more right than I thought.

When Ingressus confronted me in Nestoria, there was a moment where he seemed to return to himself. He had the Aggressium song within his reach, but stopped. He seemed to see, for the first time, what he had done to the place where he had grown up. When Achillean arrived, he ran. It was the first time I have ever known him to flee a confrontation. Is the boy I raised still in there, underneath the corruption?

I have always known that the Primes are alluring. There is a tantalizing aura to them, one that draws an Ardoni's attention. They want to be claimed, to be wielded. If they can hypnotize in such a way, then is it such a stretch to believe that they could affect the mind in other ways? If this is the case, then I fear we should never have meddled with the Prime Songs. How many unknowing monsters have we created with our tournaments? How many Ardoni, if not with completely pure intentions to begin with, were made all the worse by the Primes?

Did the Prime Songs even affect me? Affect all the masters? Did they help feed the rottenness in our clans since the Voltaris exile, extending our shameful attacks on our own kind?

No. Never again. I will not allow the Aggressium Prime to be claimed by anyone. Not Ingressus, not any Champion past or future. I and the other masters were to protect the Primes because they were deemed too dangerous to be used freely, but perhaps they are too dangerous to be used at all. So long as I have breath, I will keep the last Prime Song from ever being used again. Forgive me, all who have suffered, for not doing so sooner.