- VANDAL -
"Nu!" Vandal called into the vile mist, "Stop! Don't push yourself!"
But as he approached, a stray stream of acid slashed his forearm. He sucked air in as he pulled back his arm. It burns like the spit of the Umbra's, Vandal noticed.
The once beautiful penthouse, with its luxurious furnishings and elegant designs of glass and marble, was reduced to ruins by the masters of the elements. Walls blown in, patches of the upper floor and ceiling collapsing, and lighter objects flying through the objects like drunken birds were the results of this hurricane.
"I must say," said Ladnavia as she came closer through the mist, "killing your little princess is not as small a task as I thought." She gazed at the sorcerers and their fierce fight. "My bet would be on the wind-blown to do that job for me."
"I'm not coming back with you," Van spat, "it's not like you have any means to get back home to Aventyne, anyway."
"That's where you're wrong, my sweet husband." Ladnavia pulled the feather from her blood-red hat, it's iridescence shining through the fog. "That aeromancer gave me an idea. I heard him talking about traversing worlds and communicating with the dead. Do you know what this is?"
"This is a feather from the Simurgh, surely you've heard about it, being magically-inclined?"
Vandal knew of the bird and the secret rule all summoned beasts must obey.
"There hasn't been a summoner in centuries, Ladnavia," Van lectured, "What makes you think you can cast the spell? If you think that I would—"
"You're not the only one who's been taking lessons," she said coyly, "just relax, and let the Simurgh deliver us from this awful one of freaks."
- LADNAVIA -
"I'm not leaving my Nu and my friends behind," Vandal bellowed, "Go back by yourself."
Stubborn fool, Ladnavia thought as her irritation bore a headache, must I remind him?
"The Prophecy—"
"Riches and power mean nothing to me. You wouldn't understand."
"Oh," Ladnavia said, "the power is not that of politics, did I forget to mention?"
"What are you talking about?"
"For she holds in her a hidden might." Ladnavia put a hand over her belly as she recited the line from the prophecy that bound the two together. "Our child will be the Esper. I ask you, now. What are colorful stones and claims over dirt to gods and goddesses?"
A look of confusion and disbelief came upon his face, silenced by the talk of the Great One.
Ladnavia went on. "The heavens desire us to rule over all things. Not only does our faith call for it, but many civilizations, both pagan and believer, across the sea have foreseen such an event. Don't deny your destiny."
Without waiting for Van's response she brought the feather to her lips.
"Xav hol xee shyven," the incantation went. She kissed the feather, and, at the touch of her lips, the feather glowed until the only color it gave off was white.
The feather transformed into a glowing orb the size of a raven and flew above their heads like a minor sun. In the center, a spot of darkness formed and widened until the portal was the size of.
A sound like a thousand trumpets echoed from within, though it had the rhythm to it that suggested it was some great beast's roar. Dozens of rainbow feathers flittered and fell to the married couple's feet.
A ball of pure white wings floated from the schism. When its body passed the threshold, the Simurgh spread its wings, making the same cacophony it made from within. Its wings were as white as pearls and from its twelve tails, the colorful feathers sprouted. The long neck of a swan, it had, and the head of a woman, pristine golden tresses that seemed to glow on their own flowing in the storm's breeze. A smaller pair of wings that sprouted from the sides of its head covered its eyes. Nothing covered its third that sat on its forehead. It opened, the iris a swirling rainbow.
Ladnavia leaped onto the great bird and gestured for Vandal to come along.
"Last chance, Prince Vandal," threatened Ladnavia, "Or I take you back by force, without arms and legs in the clutches of this creature's talons."
Vandal only shrugged and started to reload one shot. From its aura and glow, Ladnavia guessed it was and ice-shot.
"You always loved playing with lives, lives of those weaker than you," Van said as he loaded in the shell. "Most likely this is the only fair fight you'll ever have."
Oh, thought Ladnavia with a sudden spark of interest in her spouse, I like that.
VANDAL'S INVENTORY:
BULLETS: 8 / 12
BANFROW: 60%
10% used per shot
ns 15.158.61.23da2
