Horrors of Fire and Skulls (Mystical Warriors book 2)

A HALLUCINATION OF AN ANCESTOR'S BROTHER

Vaskàr went walking through the desert after the fight at the Temple. And other thoughts were occurring in his mind: his family's Mark appearing at a random place, dealing with a centaur nearly causing a civil war, a brief meeting with the Luninar Warriors, and a dying uncle handing down the leadership role to another uncle. Walking in the desert, being the terrain he was raised in and almost resembling the heat of fire, Vaskàr could easily have his mind cleared in seconds.

As he walked through the desert hills with the green cacti, bushes, solid dirt, and every desert plant, Vaskàr felt the dreaded heat of the sun and the hot wind, both barreling down on him. Sweat fell from his hair, his armor was heavy as a thousand-pound boulder, and his hands and legs numbed after walking in the hot, forsaken desert.

For a person supposed to be immune to heat, he wasn't being immune to heat. Fire was his main Element, and the Element alone was to grant him immunity to any heating source, from an erupting volcano or the desert itself. He wasn't supposed to get the feeling of drenching in his own sweat from any hot place.

However, the Element of Fire didn't seem to be working on him, and Vaskàr seemly allowed his Fire to dim and weaken. He was allowing the desert heat to consume him instead of him consuming the desert heat like drinking water.

Suddenly, a cold wind took the place of the heat. It went from intense, hot winds into a shivering, icy, cold wind in seconds. Clouds formed over the sun's light, coving the desert in a grey light.

"Once upon a time, there were seven wonderers of the Ancient World," said a cold voice that shimmered Vaskàr's back. "The Seven Deities of the Ancient World created the planet with their powers; they gave it to their children to pass on."

Vaskàr Kasai instantly knew who that voice was: Årvondor.

"Dignity uses the Element of Fire to create the Earth's inner core for stability," continued the voice, "Pride uses the Element of Earth to conceal the Fire and brought balance, Hope uses the Element of Water to spread divine life, Joy uses the Element of Air to spread the will free-choice for life, Lazy uses Element of Dust to create multiply personalities, the bitter Fear spreads the Element of Ice for souls to be judged on...

"And Anger uses the element of Shadow to blind and torment souls for all eternality for vengeance of his brother, Dignity, of having better creation than Anger," finished Vaskàr, horrified.

A shadowy ghost appeared in front of Vaskàr. The ghost showed yellow-red eyes. His body was taller than Vaskàr and looked like in its sixties without the grey and white hair. A black robe strapped over his left shoulder, covering his entire body. A crown made of snake skins was strapped to the head. His hair was long and pure black.

"Årvondor!" said Vaskàr, horrified.

"If you say I am."

"It is you. I can sense a powerful hate in you, but I can't tell if you're just Årvondor or just an illusion of him."

"I can guarantee you; I am real enough for you to see," said Årvondor.

"How are you even up here? You're trapped in the core."

"That doesn't mean I'm locked away permanently. The soul has many abilities than just staying in one permeant place. If you live long enough, then you will discover many secrets that even the Light can produce, and you will likely find highly... abnormal. Soon enough, I'll be able to cast away you and your army of mythical creatures and the other Mystical Warriors."

"That depends if you are strong enough. A soul (or a ghost) with skin has limited abilities. It has unlimited abilities in the afterlife."

"Not the afterlife I created. I took a fracture of Rin's great fire and turned it into the worst place to live or be. His most divine creation turned to be to the worst place where it hurts nonstop all day every day, from toe to the last spec of hair. I made the fiery afterlife for damnable souls from the Element of Fire. And for being such a greater glorified being than me, Rin chose to be the inspiring leader in the form of a human before he was a Mystical Warrior. And I chose to be the evil persona of him. Now you stand in my way in my path to my dominance over this ratchet planet."

"And I am still alive on this side and you're stuck in the core, feeling the heat of the liquid fire," said Vaskàr, drawing out the Sword of Fire. "This is the blade and arm that banished you to the core. If both of these are destroyed, then you can get you out of there. Now all your forces are after me and not one can lay a figure on me. Hanno couldn't even kill me with my mother's blade, which I took back from him."

"Your mother died a lovely death, but in vain," said Årvondor. "She couldn't bear to have you alive."

"What-what do you mean?"

"Why did she turn you to a Mystical Warrior the night she died? Why couldn't she fight Hanno?"

"Why?" asked Vaskàr,

"I know this because she hated you and she wanted to die by the sword and leave you without a family."

"How dare you!" shouted Vaskàr, swinging the Sword at the ghostly image. The image was swept away in a single slash. "She loved me like a son, like a true mother."

"If your mother loved you, how about you stab yourself?" asked Årvondor, reappearing in his ghost form just feet away. "Stab yourself with the legendary Sword of Fire and see if your mother or your ancestors will save you if they love you. Stab yourself and see them save you out of love."

"How dare you put their abilities to the test," said Vaskàr, calmly. Then he turned.

"If you don't, bow down before me. If you serve me, I will give you the planet to rule, to have a united planet under your eye. Under your rule and my observation, this planet will have a prosperous and wonderful place for little children to roam free. And both of us will show the planet what it truly means to be the Masters of Fire."

Vaskàr listened to Rin's brother proposal. It sounded like a true offering. Ruling the planet with a fiery fist would be something Vaskàr would want, but under the control of the Prince of Shadows. If Vaskàr would accept Årvondor's proposal, he would be giving his purity away. He was a Warrior of the Light and a Defender of the Planet. Vaskàr would not willingly sell his soul of for an offering, even if it meant a peaceful world.

The form he was given from his dying mother was a gift from her. He was turned into a warrior by his mother, by giving him her body's energy and being killed out of that energy. Vaskàr was already a dead person and wouldn't be able to turn away. It wasn't in his nature to become an Ally, a Comrade, or a minion of Årvondor. Vaskàr would not have it, for the sun's light shined in his spiritual heart and mind.

"Enough with you," shouted Vaskàr, pointing the Sword of Fire at Årvondor. "I do and will not serve you. My mother turned me into a Mystical Warrior, and I am unable to due to the light that shines in my soul. If I were to turn, I would just be like a living human, but I'm not. Keep this in mind and mark my words in that twisted mind of yours: I only serve the greater good of this planet and the Light. Be gone!"

In one slash of a flaming blade in blue fire, Vaskàr slashed at the ghostly imaging and it faded. Vaskàr had triumphed over the temptation of Årvondor.