Chaos Legion Lore: Balance

Why are we trained with bow and arrow if we aren’t meant to use them? The thought passed through Delya’s mind again and again as she strode through the granges outside the Xenith Temple, where acolytes and their families tended to the grounds and gardens.

The Xenith Scale had established the temple not long after the veil shrouding Praetoria was lifted. It had been a massive undertaking, both in cost and labor, especially considering how quickly the temple and its surrounding outbuildings had been constructed—never mind the time and effort it took to transport everything and everyone across the seas.

Delya kicked at a rock. She could feel the eyes of the others watching her, judging her, but she paid them no attention. She knew going against the monks was near treasonous, but she had to take a stand. She had to fight back. Her thoughts drifted back to the altercation from only a few hours ago.

Flames spread throughout the small village of nearby Ivenstar. Soldiers dressed in ebony-colored armor tore through the streets, slaying anyone in their path. Bloated creatures covered in fungus lumbered from home to home, excreting poisonous fumes from their bodies. Shadow figures, tentacled monstrosities, and spellcasters assaulted the village, and her order, the Xenith Scale, did nothing. They watched from a hill outside of the village. To get involved would tip the scales of Balance.

Appalled, Delya turned to her mentor, Yarden. “We must do something! We can't let these people fall at the hands of these invaders!”

The elder Xenith member calmly tucked her hands inside her white and aqua robes. “This is the way of it, Delya,” she said. “We must consult with the monks to see what they decree. If they believe it to be Fate, then we must remain out of it.”

Delya’s eyes widened in disbelief. She was angry—angrier than she had been when her family forced her to join the Xenith Scale. She pulled her hood over her head and grabbed an arrow from her quiver. Around her, the other Xenith Scale acolytes cried out in alarm, but she ignored them. One grabbed at her bow. She shouldered him aside and lined up her shot. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she inhaled and held her breath. The world around her slowed and, through the flurry of robes and words and grasping hands of her fellow acolytes and the carnage in the village below, she let her arrows fly.

As she fired, questions raced through her mind. Who was this enemy? She fired an arrow. Where did they come from? Drew another. What did they want? Fired again. What had happened? What had led them to this? Two more arrows found their marks.

First came whispers of a mysterious figure shrouded in darkness and traveling across Praetoria, spreading sickness and despair. Delya had wanted to follow up on the reports, but the monks forbade anyone of the Xenith Scale to interfere… at least not until they had spent hours—no, days—in deliberation to determine if this was meant to happen.

Next, Mount Praetorous erupted, sending lava and debris down the mountainside. Creatures she had never seen before crawled, scuttled, and flew from the ashes, descending on the surrounding villages and cities. There was no warning and no remorse. Still, the Xenith Scale did nothing. Their ideals prevented any member from intervening in what might be Fate. However, Delya knew the truth. They had seen what came of war and fighting, and they wanted no part of it.

They’re cowards, all of them. They’re nothing but politicians who spend their days sitting on their asses.

“Delya, you have much to explain.”

Presently, a female voice—Yarden’s voice—pulled her from her thoughts and back to the temple grounds. She had reached its outer bailey. Had she really been lost in thought that long? Everyone in the garden was staring at her. She had no time to react before two pairs of hands grabbed her from behind. Her bow and quiver were ripped from her back, a few arrows tumbling to the cobblestone street. A pair of Xenith warriors in white and aqua robes held her between them, their hands like vices on her arms.

She grinned at Yarden. “Nice weather, eh?”

The warriors’ grip on her tightened as her mentor responded. “You have betrayed everything we stand for. We do not tip the scales in favor of one side or another. We are watchers. It is not our place to judge right or wrong.”

“Yarden.” Delya spoke her mentor’s name calmly and slowly, her yellow, almond-shaped eyes imploring. This was the same woman she had disobeyed just hours ago on the hilltop outside of Ivenstar, and in Yarden’s blue eyes, she saw sadness, frustration… and something else. Conflict? Delya continued. “I know you’re disappointed, but I made my choice, and I know how this ends. The monks will discuss what to do with me for weeks, perhaps months, and I’ll be locked away, just another problem to deal with when the stars align.”

Yarden’s wrinkled face twisted into a heavy frown. “You are a problem, but for now, you’re my problem, not theirs. I shall handle your punishment for now, and you’ll stand before them when they deem it time. Come with me.”

Yarden turned and strode through the bailey, and the two Xenith warriors shoved Delya forward. She stumbled and caught herself, massaging her arms as she hurried after her mentor.

The four entered a large building that stood in the shadow of the Xenith Temple. The sign affixed to it read Lotus Athenaeum—the order’s library. Delya rolled her eyes as she followed Yarden through its large, double doors. The room beyond smelled of ink and leather. Members of the Xenith Scale sat at tables, nose deep in books. Shelves full of tomes and journals lined the walls. It was a maze of textbooks and manuscripts, and Delya hated it.

“No more books,” Delya argued. “My mind is full enough of Xenith punishments, our laws and codes, and the fate of the world.”

Yarden shook her head. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have disobeyed me in Ivenstar,” she said. “This library contains everything we know about the Splinterlands. Geography, historical records, and the Xenith Scale’s philosophy and understanding of the Splinterverse. You will spend as long as I deem necessary in this building, reading everything there is to know about our world and our society’s place in it. Then, you will recite it to me, word for word. Do I make myself clear?”

Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door to a small, corner room and beckoned Delya inside. The room’s walls were lined with shelves crammed full of books, and a table at its center was piled high with even more books. A single chair sat at the table.

“Wait outside,” Yarden said to the two warriors and shut the door.

Delya turned in a slow circle. “Must I really read everything in here?”

Yarden’s foot swept out in a swirl of robes and connected with the back of Delya’s leg, dropping the younger woman to her knees. She started to rise, turning, but Yarden strode around and kicked her square in the chest.

Delya flew backward and crashed into the shelves lining the far wall. Books and papers rained down on her as she crumpled to the ground. She did a kip up and landed on her feet, glaring at Yarden.

“You are reckless and foolish,” Yarden began, and Delya let out a cry and rushed at her. Yarden sidestepped her charge, plucked a book off the table, and slammed it against the side of Delya’s head. White-hot pain burst in her skull, and Delya crumpled to the ground.

“There is a reason the Xenith Scale does not rush into conflicts,” Yarden said, standing over her. “Think. Use your mind! You must understand what’s going on before you have any hope of seeing an outcome. This library contains everything you need to reach reason and enlightenment. Fighting is what divided our lands in the first place. Our order was founded to see that it doesn’t happen again.”

Delya’s entire body felt fuzzy and numb, and her head throbbed and rang. She grabbed the edge of the table, hauled herself up, and slumped into the chair. Breathing hard, she slid the nearest book, a massive tome titled Regions of the Splinterlands, toward her and opened it, then she crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at her mentor.

Yarden sighed and turned to leave. “You are young and full of fire, Delya,” she called over her shoulder. “Let it burn through you, not consume you.”

As she reached the door, an orange and purple light flooded from around its edges. It flexed and bulged inward.

Yarden’s eyes widened. “Get down!” she shouted and threw herself sideways as the door imploded with a roar of splintering wood.

The force of it knocked Delya out of her chair. She hit the ground on her side. Shrapnel tore through the air above her and slammed into the table and the shelves with a crash. Strands of torn paper fluttered through the air and fell like ashes around her.

Delya struggled to her feet. Next to the door, Yarden did the same. They looked blurrily around the room, then toward the strange light that filled the doorway and library beyond. Together, the two women stumbled out the door and into the central library area.

And came face to face with the source of the eerie light.

A flickering portal of arcane energy rippled above them. It was suspended ten feet above the floor at the center of the room, roiling and bubbling, occasionally spitting out magma that hissed and fizzled when it hit the ground. The library was a disaster. Books, spilled ink, and papers were strewn everywhere. Most of the shelves had toppled over and lay in splinters.

The other Xenith members huddled under tables and desks. They were covered in bruises, scrapes, and cuts. The two warriors who had accompanied Delya and Yarden lay on the floor nearby. The two women rushed to help them. They too were covered in bruises and scrapes, but they were alive, and they struggled to their feet and stared at the portal, mouths agape.

The portal shifted and warped, and dozens of creatures poured through it, their bodies thin, frail, and stretched at impossible angles. Their limbs were long and spindly, like a spider’s legs, their ears were pointed, and where a mouth should have been was a void of darkness with a single marble of yellow light at the center. They fell from the portal like sludge and hit the ground with a splat before coalescing and reforming. Dozens filled the library.

Delya’s bow and quiver lay nearby on the floor where the Xenith warrior had dropped them when he fell. She scooped them up and, acting on pure instinct, nocked an arrow, drew it back, and let it fly. It pierced the chest of one of the shadow creatures, but the beast was unphased. It turned and started toward her with a grotesque, jerky gait. She let four more arrows fly. It didn’t slow. She nocked a sixth arrow, but before she could fire, the thing lashed out with a claw and tore four, deep gashes through her thigh.

Delya screamed.

Yarden leaped between the shadow creature and her student, robes whirling as she attacked it with a series of precisely placed punches and kicks. It evaporated in a wisp of shadow. Five more of the beasts advanced on the two women, moving with that same jerky gait. The Xenith warriors drew their weapons and fought alongside them. Dozens more of the creatures spilled into the room and fell upon the other hapless Xenith acolytes. Claws tore into flesh. Blood splattered ancient tomes and newly inked books. The once peaceful library filled with the screams of the dying.

A single point of light flickered into existence just beneath the portal. It spun, growing larger, larger still, until it formed a second portal filled with shades of teals and yellows. It was brighter and more intense than the first, and sparks flew where the two connected. The shadow creatures abandoned their massacre of the Xenith and flooded toward this new portal in a frenzy. Bursts of arcane energy shot out of it and slammed into them. In a matter of seconds, they dissolved, first into shadows, then into nothing at all.

Delya shielded her eyes as she stared into the portal’s powerful light. Beside her, Yarden and the Xenith warriors did the same. Inside the light, something moved. A silhouetted figure. Its hands traced a quick and deliberate pattern in the air. A spell? The figure was chanting, but Delya could not make out the words. A burst of energy flared from the figure and struck the orange and purple portal above it. The first portal twisted and contorted, collapsing in upon itself until it sucked in the last of its light and shadow with a loud pfffft!

And then it was gone.

Delya and the others stared at the teal and yellow portal and the silhouette inside of it. Was it friend or foe?

She nocked another arrow and took aim. “Who are you?”

She had the impression of a head turning to face her, but the figure was contorted and blurred by the portal. It was as if the figure was in two places at once.

“Who are you?” she repeated.

The reply echoed through the library, soft and loud at the same time, as if it came both from right beside her and from the depths of some far off canyon.

“...have followed chaos, chaos… inevitable, evitable …must stop, stop…” The voice alternated between clarity and distortion. “Protectors of, of… look for the signs, signs… sky, sky… water, water… you must find, must find… else all is lost, lost…”

With that, the portal flickered out of existence, and the room fell dark.

Delya turned to Yarden. Her mentor continued to stare at the empty space where the portal had been. Another mystery. But had the figure said they were protectors? They had certainly stopped the shadow creatures. Gods knew the Xenith Scale needed allies.

Because this time, they had been attacked directly. Why? Whatever the reason, the monks had to be warned. Delya prayed it meant their edict of inaction was over. And judging by the look in Yarden’s eyes and the hard set of her jaw, her mentor had already made up her mind.

If she had her say, the Xenith Scale would finally take a stand.