The Late Great Yara-Marn Silverlight
‘Good my infiltration went off without a hitch.’ Yara thought as he dropped from his hiding place. ‘Not many guards this far inside either.’ Yara noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye and moved to an outcropping on the outside wall of the hallway. They hadn’t noticed him whom ever they were. ‘Most likely sentries guarding the gate to the veil room.’ Yara assumed as moved closer hood still covering his mask.
He was wearing a cloak with hood that masked his presence to any and all magic’s. He had never had much use for armor but his carved mask did cover his well bred features. He had forgone any other sort of armor long ago, no one had hit him in decades. He activated his soul-stone quietly under his cloak so the blackish-red light wouldn’t tip off the guards. Soon the blade of the broadsword finalized its shape and he moved to attack the guards. The ruby lenses of his mask glowing bright with blood lust as he lept into the air.
As he desended on the pillar of his dark power he sliced the head off of the furthest guard with ease. Without landing he spun in the air and as if the other guard was still stationary stabbed him in the chest cleanly though his thick armor and into the wall behind him. The blade slid in like it was a razor cutting soft tissue paper. He pulled out the sword and released the power back into the soul-stone as his feet finally and silently landed on the floor. Yara turned and faced the gate as he did he kicked his hood back so he could see clearly.
The torches glinted off of his mask, the obsidian reflecting the light off the forehead of the mask. It was a hybrid mask of expertly crafted volcanic glass and finely shaped marble that pronounced the content of his soul. Dark and twisted lines whisked thoughout the white marble jaw line giving the shaped lips a cracked and perpetual smile. The two halves of the mask were welded together by gold; and the ruby lenses promoted the feeling of emptiness, and forbodeing that one would get when met by its gaze.
Under his dark carved mask, his face was cold and pale as a winter’s night but also beautiful at the same time. His hair was well kept and short, black with a small coloring of bright red streaks. He was on the younger side of twenty-five but only looked maybe nineteen. His keen looks were the product of years of selective breeding by his “parents”. He stood a head taller than most men, he was slight, and muscular. His small features hid the enormous well of power that lay within him. But, Yara was actually much older than what his body and face would tell you.
It was for these reasons the mask was a necessary evil, it identified him as the near 300 year old Warlock that he was. To most of the world this was his true face, the face of death and destruction to all that might otherwise oppose him. Yara-Marn Silverlight had existed for the last two hundred and eighty four years. He had survived this long because of one thing. He could switch bodies at will, he had created and perfected the technique.
As long as his soul-stone was touching the person he wanted to go into, he had no problem taking over a body. The last two bodies he took over he did so from infancy, so that he could get a full life out of it. Also he believed that an infant had no real personality yet so it wasn’t a real person.
Yara stood there before the gigantic gate pondering how he might open the locks. There were two huge keyholes on either side of the door. He looked around for anything that might risible a key. He noticed that the guard’s swords looked strangely key like. He picked one up and slid it into a keyhole. It fit snug and it turned quite easily. He picked up the other and slid it in and turned it but nothing happened. ‘Maybe they have to be turned at the same time.’ He twisted the keys back and pondered the puzzle awhile.
As he pondered a thought struck him and he took out his soul-stone and activated it. As he did the world slowed down to almost a standstill again. He grabbed on one key and turned it then ran to the other and did the same. Then released the power back into the stone once again. As the power drained out of him, time sped back up, and the doors began to open. He heard loud clicks as the doors locks opened and then a very loud crash as doors opened suddenly. He then heard razed voices coming from all around him as the sound had alerted the guards nearby to his presence.
’It was to late’ thought he had gotten what he wanted. The Looking Glass of the Veil was on the other side of the door. It was large, twice the size of a man and made of beautiful glass, silver and gold trimmings and statues. The looking glass had the power to tell the future, it was this power that he wanted. He touched his hand to the cold glass and instantly visions rushed into his head.
They weren’t of the future though he recognized most of the places he saw. He saw the deaths he had caused but from the victims view. In every vision it ended the same way with Yara killing the victim. Then suddenly the visions changed it went to visions of a young girl. It showed him the great and terrible power she would weld. She was his descendant, a True Silverlight, able to manifest a weapon instead of a spirit creature.
The glass showed him of dual futures one she would follow in his footsteps and become queen of a large and corrupt empire. In the other she would save the world from darkness and death. Having lived though every one of his victims’ deaths he now knew the evil that he had caused. He didn’t want his granddaughter to be the cause of such evil herself. ’Maybe that’s why the glass is showing me this. To help me atone for my sins’, he thought, then the vision changed in the future that if she should save the world she would have to die in its place. ‘No there must be a way to keep THAT from happening.’ He yelled in his mind.
Then the visions changed to him, he was crushing his soul-stone and using it as fuel for a spell. He audibility scoffed, ‘Very well, if that is what I must do, so be it.’ And for the first time in his life he cared about someone other than himself. The glass then released him and he was confronted with what he must do.
As he stood there he was surrounded by a score of guardsmen. Then one spoke, “Yara-Marn Silverlight I didn’t think you would ever get this far. I’m surprised that the glass didn’t drive you insane. It doesn’t work for the evil and the wicked like you. And we elves are the only ones truly worthy of its embrace.” Yara recognized him as the Captain of the Elven Royal Palace Guard.
“I looked into the glass and it changed me. It showed me things that I care not to repeat. And of a future that my descendant will help save.” Yara replied to the captain.
“And where are you in this future you speak of?” The captain asked.
“Dead.” Yara replied as he released the power of his soul-stone. The light of the sword glowed bright white, a color he had not seen it glow in almost 250 years. “Hello old friend, will you help me one last time.” Yara asked the sword. The sword hummed happily in response. ‘Thank you.’
Yara pushed all of his considerable power into the broadsword and swung the blade horizontally. A wave a pure energy echoed from the blade and pushed down all of the solders that surrounded him. Then he ran as fast as he could. He passed guards like they were living statues, he plowed through walls and gardens. All of his power boiling out of him in palpable waves. He made it to the outskirts of the palace and over the outermost wall before the soul-stone finally gave out and the power rushed out of him. He continued to run arrows whistling passed him now that the guards could see him.
He managed to dodge most of the arrows until he got to the outside of the city. The darkness of night helped but they got lucky, the white sand and bright moon didn’t aid him. One guardsmen got lucky and hit him in the shoulder, he continued to run despite the injury. When he made it to the patchy forest outside the royal city he slowed a bit. He maintained the run though knowing how fast elves would overrun the forest searching for him.
When he could no longer run he stopped and rested next to a tree by a small pond. He pulled off his ancient bag from his belt, got out parchment and began to write. He wrote a letter to the future Silverlight, as he wrote he heard elves searching the woods around him. About a minute later he was done and when a elf came into view. He drew his spell-caster with his uninjured arm and fired a shot at the elf. The caster drew even more strength from him as the spell left the barrel. The shot connected and killed the elf but alerted the others to his whereabouts.
He killed several more elves before he hadn’t the strength to fire again. Then he knew what he must do before the elves caught him. He picked up his soul-stone and crushed it absorbing the strength hidden away inside. A surge of power overwhelmed him and he cast the spell. He used all of the items and weapons in the bag as energies to cast this spell. When he was done a stack of eight books stood before him. Before the power vanished and he became not but ash and dust he placed the books in the bag. As well as the caster and the letter to his granddaughter, the glass had been kind enough to leave him with a parting gift; her name. Keira Esona Silverlight.
“Such a beautiful name.” Yara said to himself as the last of his body turned to dust.