This for me was a really fun chapter to write as it really pushed my boundaries of my imagination.
Inspirations of Madness
To traverse the vast continent of the Nethris took great fortitude. Though the small of mind may see this place as being encapsulated within the bright blue sphere or mother earth, it was in effect more boundless than its daylight counterpart.
That idea would have made no sense to any who may have pondered the mechanics of this conundrum. However, nothing in the vast world of the Nethris made sense, at least not to the logical human mind.
Xonereth flew on the back of a zilant's swift flight. Past the open and endless fields of steel grey rushes that wavered and moaned like lost souls. The thrusting spear like rushes mature, velvet black and soft like the pelts of witches' kittens.
The beast that bore its proud ruler was inky dark with eyes of scintillant silver, pupils narrow and pointed like a cat. A coronet of twisted, malformed horns garnered its gargantuan head, large bovine ears were framed beneath this bony crown. Its wingspan was of great size, the edges sporting claws for gripping and climbing the harsh rock faces that were abundant here, like a bat. A shaggy black mane not unlike that of a lion graced its powerful neck. The almost Cheshire cat mouth sported many rows of ridged and upright canine teeth.
Part of the fantastical creature was feathered, part scaled, and part fur. Its front legs were the powerful claws of a big cat, the rear manifest as the talons of a bird. It had a long sinuous scaled tail that mimicked a serpent with a tuft of twisted fur at the end like that of a bullock or a lion.
There were many other equally fantastic creatures who would have carried Xonereth on this journey. However the zilant or ajdaha as it was called by those of upper earth was amongst the largest and swiftest of all creatures here that soared the skies.
Xonereth would find the exiled Valefor. He knew exactly where his brother had been incarcerated to endure eternity many millennia before. It had been a different time then in his kingdom. A time of instability, a time of unspeakable deeds and betrayals.
His torn and suffering subjects had only uttered Valefor's name in whispers since that time. Mostly he was not referred to at all, except with a dark look or an obscure reference. Those exiled should in polite society truly cease to exist, and hence Valefor had. The bitter bile, and darkened shadow that was Valefor, had indeed ceased to exist for an age. Though even in ensorcelled chains on the way to his exile, he had dared to mock his brother.
"I will live long in all your hearts in every black thought or deed, no matter how inescapable my prison." He had warned though a torrent of disheveled hair as he was dragged away. "You will not forget me even if you fear to speak my name..." He had screamed at Xonereth and Sheharizade in his exodus hatefully.
Valefor's prediction was right in a way, and the taint of his darkness was till this day a blot on the Nethris' collective soul. In many millennia they still had not completely shed his terrible legacy.
The centuries had passed and in his clemency to one of his own royal blood, Xonereth had relaxed the rigid and cruel imprisonment he had initially enforced on his antagonist. Valefor would finally be allowed to live free, as long as he did not leave the immediate lands of his exile, nor meddle in the affairs of the Nethris and society again.
By this time centuries of immobility had seen even the strong mind of a Nethris Highborn crumble. Valefor was no more than an incomprehensible imbecile, who on his release did little more than sit motionless muttering words from a language none could decipher.
Xonereth reasoned Valefor through the portent of a dark and ruptured past would no longer be any kind of danger to the Nethris as a whole. As a precaution strong magical wards were set and Xonereth had not deigned to visit the unfortunate exile again. Slowly the dark prince's deeds faded to almost oblivion, only to become an awkward moment or a name that must not be uttered in the court.
Xonereth was not sure what to expect from this meeting. He did it mostly to satisfy that indeed his long nullified sibling was still as ineffective as he has last glimpsed him all those long millennia before, when the men of earth still dwelt in caves, and learned the use of fire.
The zilant, wings outstretched, swooped low over a black body of water. The pool was still, dark, and deep. Not even a ripple to graze the surface. During the low dive there came to Xonereth's ears the sound of a human child crying. The melody of a child's grief was a curiosity to his ears, for none of his kind ever cried in that fashion. All highborn hid their emotions well behind a mask of white.
The lesser Nethris could be quite prone to outbursts of emotion, but it was more in the manner of grief, writhing on the ground, and hair tearing. He listened and commanded his mount to circle the pool once more. The great beast beat its wings lazily and compiled.
