Unbound

Chapter Eight Hundred And Five – 805



Chapter Eight Hundred And Five – 805

Pit stood at the edge of Euphonia, contemplating the stormwall.

A formal structure had been built there, leading off the edge of the floating island. It was Nymean-made; that much was clear to him. Their signature pattern of stars was repeated everywhere, and a motif of roots and vines were engraved into the tall pillars that framed the view.

The ground beneath him was carved with a story. Borders of flowering roots framed images of a Chimera flying away from a floating island, then heading into a storm. The next part was damaged, but it was clear that the Chimera encountered something—something dangerous, from the way its body was twisted. The final piece, right at the very edge of the cliff, was the Chimera's triumphant return to its home.

Pit stared at the third panel, hoping to glean some clue as to what he might face. Other than what looked like swirling winds, there was little to see.

"You aren't required to do this, Pit."

He turned and smiled at Vess. She was followed closely by Yin, Evie, Tzfell, and Laur. "Come to see me off?”

Evie peered over the edge. “That’s quite a drop.”

“Don’t worry, I can fly.”

She squinted at him. “You’re getting sassier.”

“Monkey see, monkey do.”

“What’s a monkey?”

“Pit,” Vess spoke louder, catching his attention. “You

He sighed. “I know I don't have to go, but the Enclave doesn't plan on helping us."

"They haven't given us their judgment yet," Tzfell pointed out. "Why not wait for it?"

"Because they are cautious fools," Yin declared, striding to the front.

"Yin," Vess warned.

He tossed his mane. "Forgiveness, little Dragoon. I do not blame them. These shadows are hounding them and their princess. It is wise to be cautious, but their vigilance blinds them to the real threat and to the value of our help." Yin looked up at Pit. "Still... Let me go in your stead, young Pit."

"No."

"But—"

Pit shook his head. "I appreciate it, Yin, but I need to do this myself. I aim to prove we're worth the Enclave's trust."

In the distance, Scylla flew toward them from a distant spire. Pit perked up, and Evie chuckled. "No other reason, right?"

Pit pawed at the ground but wouldn't quite look at the chain warrior. "Shut it.”

Evie's chuckle developed into a full-throated laugh.

"I approve," Scylla said as she landed. Her smile shifted between Pit and his friends. "A day so dire should be met with laughter. It wards away misfortune, or so my mother used to say."

Pit forced a smile. "Haha, yes, that's what we're laughing at!"

Evie snorted, and Pit pushed her over, sending her tumbling into the dirt. "Anyway, I'm ready to go."

Scylla looked to Evie curiously as the woman stood back up, still grinning. "Do you not wish to say your goodbyes? When I was Tempest-tested, I spent a full day with my family and loved ones. It is necessary to steady your Spirit for the trial to come." Ř

Pit's eyes widened, and he looked back at his friends. Vess only offered him a gentle smile, though she gripped her glaive tightly. The others looked just as concerned, but they hid their Spirits beneath firm upper lips.

"I... no, I'm ready," he said.

"Then we must away. The Tempest awaits."

Pit clacked his beak. "Right.” He faced his friends. "I will be back."

Ouranic Dominion!

Pit leapt from the edge and pumped his powerful wings. Air Mana marshaled beneath him, a continual updraft that followed his command. He shot outward like a ballista bolt, easily catching up to the far smaller Scylla.

"Slow yourself," she called out. "Save your Strength for the test."

Pit closed his eyes, attempting to let his worries be carried away by the pure feeling of wind through his feathers. "I have Strength to spare."

"You are steadier than I expected. I was a bundle of nerves when I was tested."

"Nervous? Why would I be?" He cleared his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you here? Does Thalgrym think I can't do this alone?"

"A witness is required to prove that you've been found worthy.”

“You can't take my word for it?"

She laughed. "No.”

“So why you?"

"I volunteered."

That was the last they said before they flew into the stormwall around Euphonia. That was good, because Pit had trouble hiding his huge smile.

They flew for a time.

Outside Euphonia, the eternal storm still raged, soaking them with ceaseless rain. Thunder echoed behind the flash of lightning, some distant and some very close.

"You're lucky. Euphonia has come closer to the center of Sunara than normal," Scylla shouted between thunderclaps.

"What do you mean it's come closer?"

"We move when we're in danger, and the shadowbeasts have been—"

"They're getting worse," Pit finished for her. Scylla nodded.

"This way, Shaper of Chaos."

She banked to the left, forcing him to curve his path or else crash into her slight form. Ahead, the clouds buckled in a strange manner. It was almost hidden by their convolutions, but as they drew nearer, Pit was certain that there was a tunnel between them.

"Wind tunnels," Scylla announced. "They are the hidden pathways across Sunara, allowing us to access our Territory swiftly. Follow!"

Together, they dove into the dark clouds. Pit felt it the moment they entered the wind tunnel. The breeze swirled around him, buoying his form in a way that was similar to how his Ouranic Dominion did, and a roar filled his ears as they shot forward. A bubbling laughter rose up through Pit's broad chest. He trilled brightly, his wings beating powerfully through the wind tunnel until the clouds around them blurred into indistinct gray.

The Skill jerked from Pit’s grasp as information tried and failed to pour into his Mind. Felix?

Something was wrong. Felix was...

The true Stormwardens emerged.

They were shaped nothing like the collection of orbs and rings that the Chimera had inscribed with sigils. These were massive, greater than a dozen Manaships combined, bulbous, and finned. A body of blue-gray flesh floated among the storm, mottled with striations of purple and green that shone slickly in the flash of lightning that surrounded it like a halo. Immense tentacles quested among the clouds, threading them with a seemingly infinite length while its eyes shone bright, illuminated with a green-gold glow around a pupil shaped like a sideways figure eight. There were three to a side, each larger than Pit's entire body, and through the curtain of cloud, they swiveled.

They fixed on him.

Ouranic Dominion!

Pit moved, churning his wings and Skill harder than he ever had, and it still wasn't enough. A tentacle intercepted him, falling across his path like a collapsing tree. Pit pulled up, evading a collision but nearly getting crushed as the tentacle curled upward, rolling in on itself and catching the very edge of his rear wings. He screeched in pain, his forward momentum tearing free several of his primary feathers.

Ouranic Dominion is level 84!

He immediately dove.

I need to get to the center of the Tempest!

Another tentacle came for him. It swung through the clouds like a ship tearing out of the fog, and Pit swelled the Mana beneath his wings. This time, instead of going above or below, he jerked to the side, running parallel to its huge limb. The tentacle curled inward again, unable to grasp him until it rotated, and Pit banked along with it, turning nearly upside down as he rolled across the Stormwarden's extended appendage.

How are they so fast? Pit had considered himself speedy for his size, but these things blew him out of the water. It’s like they’re—

Another came, and he dove to his left just before it rose up beneath him. It roared past him like a speeding train. Pit glanced back, his Perception flaring, and saw the tentacle vanish. Not fade into the clouds, but legitimately vanish into thin air.

Pit spun, flaring his Perception and Ouranic Dominion for all he was worth. He slipped through the storm, the air Mana pressing him farther and faster along the howling winds. His eyes were wide open, unblinking in the rain as he pushed his Perception to the very limit of his abilities. Then he saw it. A tentacle larger than any tower in Euphonia instantly appeared through a dark rift between the clouds.

Teleporting?That’s cheating!

Two more appendages, the limbs of new Stormwardens, appeared in his path. Each of them stretched toward him out of dark holes in the sky.

Ouranic Dominion is level 85!

Pit evaded them. Their teleporting cheat made them unexpected, but he refused to let them catch him again. He was a Primordial Storm Tyrant!

The skies were his!

He spun, running across the extended length of the mottled flesh, eyes out for dark spots between the clouds, shadows that heralded the arrival of Stormwarden limbs.

I can do this!

Sprites appeared around him, flitting closer than before. Wind, Water, and Lightning—though far more of the latter than ever before. Each called out, their voices a chorus of sharp bells, a knife-edged caesura to cut through the cacophony.

“Run away! Get away from the tentacles!” The Sprites ignored him and flew onward, tracing complicated patterns around his wings. “Just stay outta the way!”

Rifts opened up again, but Pit kept ahead, diving low or climbing high to keep the dark patches in sight. So long as he paid attention, so long as he was careful, he could evade the tentacles.

That, of course, was when they started hurling lightning.

Bolts as wide as Pit's forelegs crashed toward him, skittering across the tops of clouds and arcing sideways through the deluge. The Stormwarden's massive bodies lit up with it, as if the Essence of storms were breathing through its knobby skin. A net of brilliant light and tumultuous thunder closed in on him, and Pit couldn't avoid it. Not all of it, anyway.

Mantle of the Storm Lord is level 70!

...

Mantle of the Storm Lord is level 74!

Lightning coursed across him, diverting into his Mantle for the most part, but some bled through. Pit screamed, the pain surprising, when he'd been all but impervious to its fury for so long. His Skill was overwhelmed, and his Health dropped.

I need to be faster!

He could fight them. He knew that. He had spells and Skills powerful enough that even the Stormwardens would probably feel the hurt before long—but an instinct warned him against it. Attacking them felt like it was against the purpose of his test, and the veneration that Scylla had displayed towards the Etheric Stormwardens... He felt it would be a mistake. For all their power and violence, Pit heard no malevolence ringing across his Affinity. No anger.

They were definitely trying to eat him, though.

“I really hope you're not in here, Scylla,” he shouted, his voice lost beneath thunder. A tentacle slipped through another dark cloud, exactly where it wasn't seconds before. “God, how are they doing that?”

He twisted, spinning through a gap in the Stormwarden's clutching limbs and putting all the Strength he could muster into flapping his wings.

Ouranic Dominion is level 86!

The Tempest surged, and the full brunt of the storm fell onto him as if he'd crossed some invisible boundary.

Storm Mana sheared through him like a tidal wave at the edge of the clouds, and the world ignited in blue-white light. Pit squawked, thrown down as a bolt as wide as a house crashed into him, burning fur and feather, even as his Mantle furiously flared.

Mantle of the Stormlord is level 75!

...

Mantle of the Stormlord is level 81!

You Gain:

+75 AGL

+50 END

+40 STR

Warning!

Your Health Is Below 20%!

Glowing Sprites gathered close, spiraling around him in a great flock. His wings lifted, the gale no longer tearing into him but buoying him up by the smallest of margins, enough for Pit to recover. He screeched, every ounce of his power pushing him that much further forward. Tentacles snapped out, grasping at his tail, wings, and hind legs.

Ouranic Dominion is level 87!

He slipped through a stormwall, and all at once, the storm vanished as if it had been wiped clean.

Pit flapped hard, chest heaving, and his ears laid back as he spun around in confusion. The Stormwardens were gone, as was the rain and the wind. Around him, the sky was bright, and a span of unbroken blue stretched above between a twisting corridor of clouds.

He was in the eye of the storm.


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