Chapter Text
The smell of blood and sweat was heavy and nauseating, mixed with the Undercity's constant smell of sewage, sick, and cheap ale. Io still wasn't sure why she came down here so early- and if she should even be here, but here she was all the same. A brutish woman glared at Io as she passed, pushing her way through the throng of people chanting at the fighters in the pit below. Finally, she spotted Rasha, standing next to her usual seat. A heated argument seemed to take place between her and an older man who looked as deceptively frail as her. Rasha paused as Io approached, nodding curtly, before continuing to yell at her father.
"Are you fucking kidding me?? Either you're paying them now, or I'll cut you off again." Rasha growled, and Io slipped seamlessly to her side. Two sets of eyes stared down Rasha's nervous father.
"Come on, Flower. You jest, right?" He grimaced, eyes darting from the two women to the crowd.
"She does not." Io answered coldly, catching his gaze. He looked away quickly, and when the unnerving stares didn't stop, he nodded silently, and padded off.
Rasha's shoulders slumped as she leaned against the crates, and a relieved sigh escaped her. Io smiled understandingly, tugging her hood farther down her face. After a moment, Rasha turned to her as the crowd suddenly cheered. She let out a low chuckle that could barely be heard and shook her head disbelievingly.
"You always show up right when you're needed, you know?" She grinned, arms crossing in a relaxed manner. "Bastard doesn't respect me worth shit, so 's nice to have a murderous bitch like you back me up."
"Murderous bitch? Careful Rasha- someone might think you are being kind to me." Io smiled, inclining her head to the snarky half-Aeterna. Rasha waved her off, hopping back onto her crate with a muffled 'humph.' She faced Io; a serious look suddenly plastered on her sharp features.
"There's a fight available. I won't lie though- it'll be hard this time, and chances are you won't make it out alive. Tonight, you're going to be fighting The Beast- if you're woman enough." Rasha spoke sternly, propping her elbow up on her knee.
“The Beast?" Io echoed, the usual mix of anticipation and anxiety already curling in the pit of her stomach.
"Aye... The pride of the Pit. And the good thing about it: Even if you hack it to shreds, all we need to do is give it some elixir, have our necromancer stick it back together, and it's as good as new." Io began to respond, but Rasha cut her off with an almost concerned look. "But we can't really do the same thing with you, so... I would understand if you wanted to back out. Support it, even. Just- mph." She stopped, breaking eye contact. Io said nothing, giving her time to say what she wanted.
"Look. I don't do friends. I don't even do acquaintances. I do 'I hate everyone.' But… I hate you less than others, and it'd be kind of shitty if I watched your annoying mug get splattered." She spoke stiffly, lowering her voice and avoiding Io's gaze.
"... You really know how to make a ‘murderous bitch’ feel special, Rasha." Io responded, her face softening with a smile. Rasha glared at her, but Io could see the laughter glittering in her eyes. "But you know I am going to fight." Io continued, soft smile fading to a grim, determined look. Rasha's shoulders slumped once again.
"...You'd kill it as a mercenary; you own a home in the Nobles Quarter, so you're not destitute, and you might find less dangerous work elsewhere. So why do you keep coming back to the Arena?" Rasha asked after a moment's pause. Io took a moment to think before responding.
"I only know how to fight. I mean, I can cook, but I am not going to make upwards of three hundred pennies simply by cooking.” she chuckled, eyes fluttering shut. “Plus, I do not want to leave the city for long periods in case the Order calls on me. So despite the lukewarm welcome a sunchild gets in the Undercity, here I am." She explained frankly, meeting the half-Aeterna’s gaze once more.
Rasha’s brows raised in mild surprise before she nodded understandingly. "Y'know, I completely forgot you do stuff for the Order. Though I suppose you're definitely bitchy enough to be in with them."
Io laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Thanks so much, truly."
Rasha had reluctantly sent Io down to the cages after that to prepare, and the Cagemaster had swung by to inform her of her placement in the order shortly after. Io was currently kneeling on the floor of the cages, her pack emptied before her: potions, scrolls, books, and a few unsold trinkets were spread across the worn stone. The noise of the crowd rose suddenly, startling her. Io glanced over to see one of the fighters in the pit was holding their side as they scurried away from their opponent. She ignored them, turning back to her belongings. Bending down, she picked up a potion of Ambrosia, four high-quality mana potions, and a stamina potion. Tucking the mana and stamina potions in her sash, she uncorked the white vial of the vile but necessary substance.
"Down the hatch." She muttered for courage, before tilting her head back and tipping the Ambrosia down her throat. It tasted as disgusting as ever and she had to stop herself from gagging while drinking, but she managed to down it all in one go. It left the usual bad aftertaste in the back of her throat, and Io could feel it coat her tongue with a disgusting oily feeling, but Ambrosia worked a hell of a lot better than before Lishari had cast the spell for her arcane fever. The headaches were so faint now that she wouldn't even notice them until she thought about them. She did, however, notice the quick ripple of electricity that ran up her arms before dissipating. With a frown, Io shook out her arms and prayed she wouldn't shock herself if she touched metal.
She wasn't surprised it was happening, though. Her nerves were a mess, and the pre-fight apprehension churned her gut. Honestly, Io just wanted to get out into the Pit already. She didn't have any time to think about nerves or anxiety during a battle- just instinct and quick decisions. Placing her hands on her knees and inhaling, she held her breath for a moment, counting the seconds one by one before slowly exhaling. She felt her anxiety fade a smidgen and Io breathed a relieved sigh, relaxing her tense shoulders as best she could. She still must thank Jespar for that tip soon. She began shoving her things back into her pack when she heard the crowd start roaring and the announcer speak. Io grabbed a scroll and a small health potion at the last second- they would definitely come in handy. She picked up her bag by its handle and ensured her hood was down far enough to conceal her face, quickly standing when the Cagemaster rounded the corner.
"Ready?" He asked, voice gruff and uncaring. Charming, really.
Io said nothing but nodded, handing him her pack as per usual. He nodded in return and motioned to the gate that led into the Arena. She turned just in time to see a gaunt woman and another fighter drag a motionless body out of the pit. Looking through the bars of the gate, Io saw her next opponent swaying in a large cage just under the crowded railing.
Well, fuck.
The Beast- a very appropriate moniker- stood at a good 7 feet tall. Likely taller, if the creature could straighten its crooked back. Io might be on the shorter side compared to most, but she was absolutely dwarfed in comparison to the grotesque, miss-matched creature that stared into nothing with blank, listless eyes. The creature possessed a gaping, dark mouth filled with jagged rows of teeth, while dried blood and… other viscera dibbled down its chin onto the Beast’s chest. The thing even had chunks of armour-like metal sewn into its very flesh, while the Beast brandished a humongous cracked and bloodstained hammer. Its flesh- if it could even be called its own, was horrendously wrong- nothing but patchwork from what seemed to be several different donors. That must have been what Rasha meant about ‘sticking it back together,’ then. Io scoffed, clenching her fists and forcing a false bravado. Rasha had once been surprised that Io hadn't pissed herself when a previous opponent had turned wolfish during their battle, but Io truly wasn't surprised she was tempted to do so facing The Beast.
Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out.
She closed her eyes, clenching her hands even tighter. Her nails dug into her leather gloved palms, and her magic responded by crackling reassuringly up her arms and down her body. The creak of the blood-rusted gate before her broke Io from her faltering calm as it swung open. With another steadying breath, she stepped into the Pit.
"Meydames and Meyseres, a cordial welcome to the Dust Pit! You know who I am, I know who you are, and above all I know why you are here today! Because you want to see a fight! She needs no introduction, yet I shall give it to you nonetheless: Nothing but a small-time nobody a few weeks ago, she has quickly climbed the ranks of the Pit, despite life-threatening opposition from her foes! She is sure to give us quite the spectacle tonight. I give you... 'The Nameless One!'"
Io walked into the centre of the Pit amidst cheers from the overzealous crowd on the balcony above. She tilted her head up to scan their blurry faces and raised her arms slowly, hands splayed outwards. The magic residing in her reacted immediately, crackling to life in a huge, awe-inspiring display as lightning arched between her arms, wildly branching from one hand to the other. The crowd responded with roars of approval, and the Announcer turned to face the crowd with a flourish.
"An impressive display of power from our most beloved rookie! I can tell we're all rather excited for tonight's show, no?" He all but yelled over the crowd, a round of applause rising from the raucous people. "But! Can the 'Nameless One' also oppose the beast that's been soaking this soil in blood for decades now? We shall see!"
"Unleash the Beast!"
At those words, the monster inside the too-small cage suddenly snapped to attention, unnerving the mage. A small waif slipped from behind the Beast's cage, key in hand. With a click, she removed the huge padlock keeping the beast contained and immediately rushed back to the relative safety of a door hewn into the rock-face. Io watched solemnly as the massive creature trained its hideous milky eyes on her. The Beast let out a fierce roar which shook the ground, and Io glanced at the ceiling nervously as she felt dust and pebbles hit the top of her head. She jumped back in surprise as the Beast suddenly raised its weapon and brought it down on the door of its cage, the sound of screeching metal wrenching tight grimaces from both herself and her audience. Io felt her heart jump up her throat. Without a second thought, she quickly reached for the scroll tucked into the back of her sash, keeping her eyes on the uncoordinated monster picking its way through the mangled cage door.
"It is noticeably slow, and has an awkward gait due to its mismatched parts. But if the blood splatter has anything to say, the bastard hits hard." Io murmured to herself, muscle memory guiding her fingers under the paper of the scroll and sliding them along until the wax seal gave way with a crisp snap.
She felt a burning ice stain her hands as the scroll quickly went up in pale blue flames, the embers wrapping a cocoon around Io's form. The Beast took notice as the scroll unleashed its spell, Winter Skin, and roared with anger. Io grit her teeth, taking a battle stance and letting her magic ripple up and down her raised arms threateningly. The Beast raised its hammer once again, this time focused solely on the mage before it. Io shut all thought out of her mind, letting her magic take the wheel with her head raised high. Yet, as Io prepared herself for an inevitably difficult fight, something extraordinary happened.
A flash of magic blinded her, darkened by a silhouette, and the sound of steel breaking through flesh rang out as fresh dark blood hit the ground.
Another flash, the sound of steel meeting skin once again, and the pungent scent of iron flooded Io's senses.
With a third burst of magic Io watched, breathless, as a man danced gracefully around the front of the Beast and delivered a quick jab to the Beast's other knee. The monster stumbled as its legs gave out, and time almost seemed to slow as the strange man fluidly guided his blood-coated blade up and straight through the Beast’s jaw. Blood, bright and wrongly viscous, splattered the man's leathers with a heavy, wet sound, and gravity pulled the limp Beast off his blade. It hit the floor with a thunderous sound, shaking the whole cavern and sending blood and dust flying in all directions.
Shouts of anger and confusion echoed from the crowd, and Io faintly noticed the announcer yelling something at the stranger- but it all sounded far away as she watched the man, twin shortswords held at the ready, turn towards her. Intense violet eyes caught her, an unrecognisable glint festering in his gaze. Only then did she recognise the familiar indigo armour of the Rhalâta.
"Let's see you dance," A harsh voice called, the man taking a step towards her, "Nameless One."
Suddenly he broke into a dash, both blades poised to deal serious damage. Her magic surged instinctively, mixing with the storm of cold still wrapped around her body as the Rhalâim's sword dug into the armour on her shoulder. Lightning and frost danced up his blade without pause. He jumped back with a jolt, feet kicking up a cloud of dirt. With zero hesitation or thought, Io flung herself at him, gripping his chest's armour with both hands. She unleashed everything in her, the room dimming as lighting, bright and uncontrollable, danced in violent arches between her and the man. A twitching hand gripped her hair and pulled tightly at her scalp with a burning sensation, and Io grimaced as the man threw her away from him roughly. She was momentarily surprised he could move that well despite her lightning, but it was just what the mage needed. She rolled into the impact and immediately sprung up, using her momentum to propel herself forward quickly. She made a mad dash for the Beast’s corpse, pulling a blue vial from her sash. Using all her mana in one go left her feeling violently nauseated and vulnerable, and she needed to regain more mana quickly. Io heard quick steps gaining on her and she purposefully released Winter Skin, the spell dissipating in a sudden burst of cold energy. Her gambit paid off as her attacker was slowed just enough for her to slide behind the Beast and quickly uncork the mana potion. She slammed it back, her stomach lurching from the unpleasant feeling of going from full to nothing and back again. Io rose in an instant, lighting crackling up her arms defiantly, but was met with cold, sharp steel. A sword caught her arm, cloth and skin tearing with a burning feeling, while a second sword slashed across her chest- stopped only by the hard steel pin securing her hood. Her nose was flooded with the scent of her opponent’s burnt leathers, and it edged the mage on.
Io let out a chain of lighting that raced to the man, whipping across his shoulder as she took the moment to gain distance. The minute the man turned back to her with a fire in his startling eyes she scowled, outstretching her arms to him and releasing the power of her talent, Shock Nova. Instinctively, the man crossed his arms in front of his face as Io let the sparks fly. The lightning, however, was nothing but a distraction for another spell. The man stumbled as Io's summoned spectral wolf tore violently at the man's leg, whipping its head side to side as blood flung off its transparent jowls. The man turned to bury his sword in its flank with a clipped growl, providing just enough time for Io to down a second mana potion. She let loose another wave of lighting, focusing on the weakened part of his armour unyieldingly- even as her mana dropped lower and lower.
She let out a determined snarl which slowly morphed into a hoarse scream as she poured her remaining magic into ploughing the man into the bloodied dust with her lightning.
When deep violet eyes met her own, Io saw a satisfied smile hidden in their depths. The man fell to his uninjured knee, thrusting a blade into the dirt to steady himself. Io reflexively stopped casting, startled by his sudden pleased gaze.
"Good... That's enough. Let's talk." He called to her, his voice carrying across the arena with ease. Suddenly Io felt unfamiliar magic invade her, moving far too quickly for her to repel it- and she felt the familiar sensation of a teleportation spell as violet flashed over her vision.
Io stumbled as she phased to... wherever this was. She felt rancid bile rise in her throat as it always did when she used Teleportation magic, but the mage pushed it down with nothing but pure spite. She glared daggers at the man that stood before her, staggering up from where she had fallen. Her magic responded to her agitation by dancing dangerously up her arms.
"Fair enough." The stranger commented, raising his hands defensively. "... This is better."
Io remained silent, staring down- no, up the man. Io stood at a healthy five foot three, but this bastard was tall- a full foot taller perhaps. Judging from his height and the pointed ears, he seemed to be half-Aeterna, like Rasha. He wore the usual mask of a Rhalâta, so half of his face was obscured, but the half that Io could see, she scrutinised. The man had pale grey skin and his hair was cut close to his scalp like most Rhalâim, along with a small, faint symbol painted in between his thin brows. Scars peeked out from under his mask, one seated across the bridge of his nose- but it was those intense, violet eyes of his that snagged her attention.
"Forgive me my dramatic entrance." The Rhalâta apologised with a raspy yet pleasant voice. Io took note of the slightly musical lift to his voice as the stranger clasped his hands behind his back and bowed deeply.
"I hope you have a damned good explanation for this. Otherwise, we shall continue where we left off." Io growled, crossing her arms and staring down the stranger.
"Come now, will you?" He responded with a teasing tone, folding his own arms over his chest. "I don't want to kill you, otherwise I'd have fought very differently." Io ignored the thinly veiled threat, choosing to simply glare up at him. He bowed his head to her in acknowledgement, the tips of his ears twitching when her hard look deepened.
"I'm Tharaêl Narys, Voice of the Father. I've been watching you for a while now because I'm looking for someone with your set of skills. And our little encounter down in the pit erased the last doubts I had about you."
"Voice of the Father?" Io echoed suspiciously, cocking her head. The man- Tharaêl, suddenly looked at her face sharply. Recognition lit his eyes.
"Hm, that accent... You're an Outlander, aren't you?" The surprise laced his voice, and Io answered with a curt nod. Tharaêl looked away. "Shit, does that mean I have to explain who the Rhalâta is to you?" He mumbled under his breath, glancing quickly at Io again.
"I know who you are. A group of cutthroats robbing the people down here of their last penny." Io snarked defiantly, hand moving unconsciously to finger the edges of her torn sleeve. Tharaêl uncrossed his arms with another look of surprise, before chuckling lightly with a shake of his head.
"You've got guts. I'll give you that." he remarked with a pleasant lift to his voice. "The Rhalâta is more than a bunch of criminals though... But we'll get there." He promised, gaze following her hand as Io traced around the gash in her arm before meeting her irritable stare.
"Regarding your original question: The 'Voices' are the military arm of the Rhalâta. I'm sure you've seen some of us before... we come into play when a matter needs a 'strong hand' to resolve itself." Tharaêl explained, waving his hand in a vague gesture. Io shifted her weight onto her other foot, uncrossing her arms and resting her hand on her hip.
"Hm.” She responded impatiently. “So, this was supposed to be some kind of... test?"
"Indeed. Let me get straight to the point: I want to hire you. For a mission." Tharaêl explained, watching Io closely for her reaction. She felt a stab of annoyance but brushed it down with a sigh.
"Do I look like some mercenary for sale?" She snapped, furrowing her brows and fixing him with a look. Tharaêl raised a brow at her.
"Well, you look like someone willing to slaughter other people in front of a gawking crowd for a handful of coins... at least, that's what you did down there." He fired back. Io flinched, glancing away. "Don't get me wrong, I don't judge- the pit fighters know exactly what they're getting themselves into. But after what I saw you do down there, I concluded you're willing to do a lot of things if the pay is right. Or am I wrong?" He continued, tilting his head to catch her gaze again.
She felt a spark of annoyance and turned towards him to deny it- only to pause as her anger deflated. He wasn’t wrong, unfortunately. While Io could live without the money by herself, there were two very important people who depended on her now- she did have some money saved up, but it could only go so far for three people- especially after her most recent purchase. After a moment's pause, she hesitantly met Tharaêl's gaze again.
"No, you are not." She finally admitted, determined not to flinch away from the half-Aeterna's intense violet eyes. He nodded understandingly, but she could see a mild curiosity lingering in his gaze. "Fair enough, then. So, tell me about this mission." She added with a sharp breath, redirecting the conversation back towards their original topic.
"Well actually, it's simple. I want your help in killing someone." He answered frankly, brushing past the mage. She turned to find him leaning on a wall, his arms crossed again. There was a dark look on his face and an unreadable emotion in his downcast eyes. Io took a few tentative steps towards him, standing at his side as he tilted his head to glance down at her face. "The Father."
"Wait- the head of the Rhalâta? Your leader?" She sputtered, taken aback.
"Their leader. Not mine." Tharaêl spat, glaring down at her angrily. Io flinched at his sudden outburst, but snapped her jaw shut and forced down her shock to listen patiently. Tharaêl grumbled something, ears flat to his head as he averted his eyes. It was a minute before he spoke again.
"When I was six years old, the Rhalâta abducted me and a dozen other children... that is, they bought us. Sha'Gun, the old cunt who owned our orphanage, sold us like cattle." He said, looking straight ahead rather than at Io- which she was very grateful for at that moment. Io’s face twisted with a harsh rage, and lightning dared to wildly spark down her body.
Of course. The Rhalâta not only stole the livelihood from the Undercity’s innocents, but also their children. She screwed her eyes shut, clenching her hands in a fist so tight that her fingernails dug painfully into her palms even through her leather gloves. The crescent-shaped wounds in her palms flared up with a stinging pain. Io really, really needed to find a better way of smoothing her anger than stabbing her hands with her nails. She took in a tired breath as Jespar’s voice rang through her mind, holding it, and released it slowly. Tharaêl glanced sideways at her curiously.
"The Rhalâta abducted you? Children?" She asked with false calm, keeping her eyes firmly shut. The leftover anxiety and adrenaline from her fight mixed with this fresh anger meant she couldn't fully trust her control over her emotionally reactive lightning right now.
"Us, and over the years, at least a dozen more. And we all came from the same orphanage." Tharaêl chuckled scornfully, his features dark. "The 'Refuge'. And no, I have no idea what they did to us... I remember nothing." He said matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders.
"So, you were an orphan?" Io asked tentatively, letting her eyes flutter open and easing into the wall next to him. Io peeked at his face from the corner of her eyes.
"Yes." He answered simply.
Io felt something warm stir in her chest- empathy and understanding. She still vividly remembered her own tumultuous childhood: how it felt to be totally alone like that, to be sold away without a care, and then never allowing yourself to feel a thing about it. The smallest kernel of trust formed in her, although she refused to acknowledge it, and she let her head fall against the wooden wall. Io felt the slightest bit calmer.
"...You said that the woman who ran the orphanage sold you? Why?"
"Why? Probably because the Father shoved an ingot of gold up her arse for every child she sold." he scoffed, half-heartedly shrugging a shoulder. "But the Fleshmaggots got her a while ago, so she took her reasons to the grave with her." Io hummed in response, thinking.
"Why would the Father abduct children?"
"That's the big question, isn't it? At first, I thought it was about child trafficking... you know, tender little knaves and girls for rich bastards-- Ark's bigwigs. Yet now, I've come to the conclusion that it must have been about science. Experiments." Io glanced at him, shocked.
"You mean… The Rhalâta conducted experiments on you?" she asked, eyes wide in disbelief. That seemed too much, even for this insane group of thugs.
"Only the Father." Tharaêl clarified, shaking his head. "As I said, I'm pretty sure you have the wrong idea about them- the Rhalâta doesn't see itself as a guild of murderers, but as a faith… a sect, a cult, in other words. The blackmailing, the shadow tax- it's how they finance their little community." Tharaêl waved his hand dismissively and Io looked away.
"Huh. And what is it they believe in?" She asked with a mild curiosity, her stance softening.
Tharaêl explained slowly, as if repeating something that had been drilled into his mind over and over. "That the physical body is the worst thing that ever happened to man. It's a hull that needs to transcend. But we digress- if we're to work together, you'll soon have some robed cultist telling you all this shit anyway."
"I see." Io said, "But you are alive- does that mean you were somehow able to flee?"
"Kind of. After the Father was done with us, he simply disposed of our corpses. This is also my first memory I have of that time after the abduction… waking up in a pile of dead bodies." Tharaêl glanced over to find Io listening silently with an indecipherable look. "I don't know exactly, but I must have been somewhere between twelve to fourteen years old- still half a child, in other words. As you can imagine, I was a… I was a mess for the first few moons after that. Once I was able to think somewhat straight again, I looked for help in the Upper City. Of course, the guards didn't believe a word of what I said and sent me right back down into the caverns."
"Wait- you told them that the Rhalâta conducts experiments on children, and they did nothing?!" Io spat, pushing away from the wall again and spinning to face Tharaêl, visibly angry. She knew all too well that the Upper City didn't care for those in the Undercity, but this was too much.
"No. And frankly, it doesn't surprise me: I'm sure hundreds of ragged kids from the Undercity had come to them before, telling horror stories about how much they suffered down there only to get a bed and some food. Also, as you may have figured out by now, the Order doesn't have any power down here. The Rhalâta controls the caves, and that's how it'll stay." He answered calmly, eyeing the skittering electricity that rose the hair at Io’s nape. She breathed in and held it again, slowly releasing it after a tense moment. When she’d finally calmed down, Io shot an apologetic look towards Tharaêl, and he bowed his head.
"… I am not sure what to say. That is horrible." She murmured sombrely, pulling her hood down to straighten her hair. It was horrible- enough to make her stomach churn. Io had always had a soft spot for kids, growing up caring for the youngest around her- not to mention the two people she cared for here in Enderal.
"Many things are. Still, they happen." Tharaêl answered with a similar melancholy, and Io noticed something in his eyes again.
‘For a Rhalâim,’ Io realised, ‘he is unusually expressive- but only in his eyes.’ Unsure what that meant or mattered in the long-term, she stored that thought away, saving it for later.
"Yet now you are a Voice of the Father and you intend to kill him. So, you are some kind of… infiltrator?" She continued, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back on her feet.
"Correct." Tharaêl nodded to her. "Let's put it this way. I came to realise that, no matter how much I cursed and cried, nobody would come to my help. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I taught myself how to survive and how to fight, and years later, entered the Dust Pit for the first time. One of the Voices saw how well I could fight and offered to let me study the Rhalâs."
"Rhalâs?" She echoed, confused.
"Their codex, their holy scripture… written by the Father himself. I shaved my head and became a scion, the lowest rank." 'Why do all Rhalâta have shaved heads anyways?' She wondered, brows scrunching in displeasure. Io would have to ask at some point.
"How long ago was that?" She asked, "Your initiation?"
"Eight years ago."
"What, and nobody recognised you? Not even the Father?" Io said, surprised.
"The Father doesn’t bother with most Rhalâim, especially not with scions. Also, when they discarded me, I was still a child… Now I am a man." Tharaêl answered proudly. Io had to hold back an amused scoff- judging by his appearance, she had a few winters on him.
"So now you are out for revenge."
"Revenge…" Tharaêl trailed off, thinking. "Yes. I want this monster to pay for what it did to me and the others, and I want to make sure that it will never hurt anyone again. Ever." Io glanced at his eyes again and saw determination- and a deep anger- swimming in their depths. "One of the core beliefs of the Rhalâta concerns the 'Day of Transcendence-' it's the day when every Rhalâim who has proven him or herself worthy, leaves his body to continue existing as an immortal, immaterial being. And they also believe that this day is imminent, since the Father found a way to 'achieve' transcendence for himself and for his lambs. In the weeks to come, he will set out on an expedition to the Frostcliff Mountains. Since this expedition will be an extremely dangerous undertaking, he will bring along almost a dozen of the best mercenaries available." He turned to her once again, face serious. "You will be one of them- and together, we will kill the Father."
Io took a moment to process everything before easing into the rest of her questions. "What kind of expedition?"
"Well, the Rhalâta spent the past two years excavating an old temple that, apparently, was lost in a glacier for centuries. According to the father, this is where we'll find the key to achieve transcendence… but that's about all I know." Tharaêl grunted.
"What, and you are telling me all this just because you saw me fight?" Io asked curiously, tilting her head to catch his gaze.
"I am telling you all this because I need someone who knows how to kill… better than the usual cutthroat you find down here. And you seem to be that someone." He said, eyebrows raised. Then, he paused. "Also… there's something about you. I can't say what, but I feel as though you're the right person for the job." He turned away from Io, his ears twitching back- the mage's eyes followed the movement curiously. "Let's leave it at that."
“Sounds like a bloody risky plan. What is in it for me?” She asked, leaning back.
“Well, I can pay you four hundred pennies now, and eight hundred more when the Father is dead.” he said frankly.
Io thought she heard him wrong for a moment. That is a lot of pennies.
"Can I think about this?" She asked, just for the sake of asking. Io wanted in on this mission for certain, paid or not, to bring redemption for the children this 'Father' had hurt- but she needed time to set things up at home first. Plus, she didn't know when Grandmaster Arantheal would call on her next, ready to begin fighting the Cycle in earnest.
"No. You either agree now or the offer is off the table. I can't afford to lose any more time." Tharaêl answered curtly. Io sighed and nodded acceptingly. She would have to figure out a way to balance everything.
"And how can we convince the Father to hire me as a mercenary?"
"By doing something that impresses him. As you can imagine, the Rhalâta already has its stock of sellswords they rely on. But if we do something that impresses the Father or his First Seer, it might be enough to convince him to hire you." he replied. Then, he finally noticed the uncertain look Io was fixing him with. Tharaêl sighed, uncrossing his arms. "Look, I know how shaky it sounds, but it's our best bet. So: Are you with me or not?"
Io looked down, her dust-covered leather boots winking in the harsh light. She was silent for a moment, weighing her desires and options- and fighting tired, old memories that threatened to surface. Finally, she looked up, meeting Tharaêl's gaze.
"Yes. I will help. If what you say about the Father is true, he needs to face justice." she answered, determination practically spilling out of her.
"Absolutely." Tharaêl agreed, and Io took note of the fire that burned in his eyes. "Meet me at the Wailing tree say... Five hours from now." He spoke, pushing himself off the wall. Io smiled and held out her hand.
"My name is Io Altruan. I am glad to be working with you, Tharaêl." she said, giving him a kind smile. For a brief second, Io thought she saw something cross Tharaêl's face, but dismissed the thought when he clasped her hand with a similar smile creasing the corners of his eyes.
"Likewise… Io." he replied, saying her name slowly as if testing how it sounded. He released her hand, then he seemed to remember something. "Ah, and uh, here- this will help you get back to the Undercity in case you need to return to the surface before our meeting. Stay safe, Io."