Chapter Text
Ty’wren looked up to face Ignari hesitantly, his hands gripping tightly on his longswords. It didn't feel real, despite how much he had prepared and practiced for this. Ignari was a man renowned for his strength and power. There were few Wanderers who could claim to have as great control over their power as he had. He was not invincible, however. The Black Mind was unstoppable, everyone was susceptible and very few had the mental control to resist it before it took them over.
Ignari’s single moment of weakness in the days following the death of his wife was enough to destroy the mind of this once-great man. Though he held back from fully falling, the damage was already done. As such, Ignari had been seeking a way to die before he gave into the corruption, and the only surefire way was for someone else to kill him.
Defeating Ignari would be a thorough test of Ty’wren’s strength and control. And yet, his strength wasn’t what made him worried about what was ahead. The hardest part to face was that Ignari was also his father.
In a way, Ty'wren was groomed for this role throughout his childhood. His siblings had a similar experience, after their mother's death, but Ty’wren knew that in the end, eyes were on him. All because he was a Prime.
A Wanderer with a Prime Aspect was both a cultural icon in the community and looked to as a source of protection. His older sister Rowan was also a Prime but after her untimely death, Ty’wren had inherited her power, further cementing his role. Untouchable strength and power were expected of him. He would not fail here, even at the threat of death. The alternative would mean no less than the downfall of the Wanderers as a society and potential doom for humanity as well.
Ignari was renowned for his near-mastery of almost any bladed weapon. In fact, Ty’wren and his siblings had all been taught the blade by him for most of their lives. But Ignari’s favored style would always be the dual-bladed scythe. His was a cruel and disciplined style that would attack and push forward unrelentingly until the enemy fell.
Ty’wren had trained with his father enough to know what habits he fell into.. He could only hope that the eight years spent away were enough for his own dual-sword style to rival his. Though of simple design, his blades were forged from strong, enhanced steel and adorned with runes running alongside the hilt that could host his power.
They stood on opposite sides of the clearing in a valley, the furthest away from civilization, so their Aspects would cause no collateral damage. "You’re... taller... then I remember," his father's voice wavered a little as he spoke, like getting each word out was taking all his strength. "You’re...different...."
Considering he’d been gone for 8 years, Ty’wren figured he had changed pretty significantly. Being gone didn't mean he ever stopped training. He knew his duty. "I needed to be ready. I am ready."
Ignari adjusted his grip on his scythe, bringing it forward. "And so am I."
With that, Ignari made the opening move, spinning the scythe in a sweeping arc in front of him. The hypnotic pattern was interrupted with a swipe at Ty’wren across his front, which he batted away with one of his swords. However, another soon followed from the other end. Immediately, Ty’wren was trapped in a pattern of defense and was slowly being driven backwards.
At this rate, the fight would turn in Ignari’s favor, unless Ty’wren interrupted Ignari’s momentum. He redirected the next swing with his right sword, guiding the scythe head up and immediately stabbed with his left, forcing Ignari to side-step. He started pressing his advantage, slashing swiftly down across his shoulder with both swords. Ignari blocked some but couldn't escape a few cuts across his chest. He gave as good as he got, however and spun his scythe up, hitting Ty’wren in the jaw and knocking him back to the ground.
As he made to get up, Ignari was above him, slamming the blunt end of the scythe down hard toward his chest. As Ty’wren rolled out of the way of the blow, he made note of the subtle black glow starting to invade the whites of his father’s eyes. Ty’wren was no longer fighting his father, rather it was the demon this corruption was turning him into.
Ignari’s tattoos started glowing red. The glow was so bright that it was visible through his shirt and made his limbs look like they were covered in flames. Fire suddenly erupted around them, trapping them in a ring. Ty’wren scrambled to his feet and retreated to the far edge of the newly formed ring.
The Aspects Ty’wren’s father commanded were Fire and Fear, and he wielded them in tandem in his glory days, making him untouchable on the battlefield. Ty’wren recalled a story where Ignari trapped the entire main host of the enemy in a similar manner, unable to retreat, they were forced to meet Ignari head on. Coupled with Ignari using his other Aspect, to further unsettle the enemy, the battle was decided from that very moment.
Ty’wren was in a similar spot to the unfortunate souls of that day, and couldn't help the rising dread as he realized.
That tiny bit of fear in Ty’wren became fuel for Ignari’s fire, and the flames grew higher and slowly encroached in with his approach. They would enter each other's range soon, Ty’wren had to come up with a plan.
The excess heat as the fire dissipated was enough for Ty’wren to use as a catalyst of his own power. He invoked Change. Instantly, the chemical energy became kinetic, and blew Ignari to the ground. Ty’wren pursued, slashing down but only managing to gouge the man's shoulder as he rolled and got up.
Ty’wren pressed on with his power. The ground around them erupted as Ty’wren forced the expansion of the gas trapped underground. Ignari tried to dodge, but Ty’wren slashed forward, catching his unharmed shoulder. He stumbled back onto a fissure, losing his balance as it exploded, and knocked him back to the ground.
"Stop."
Ty’wren stopped. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Ignari had infused his word with power, inflicting untold dread on Ty’wren at the idea of disobeying the command. His death loomed right behind him, a knife edge away as the word washed over him. He could barely breathe.
This was the reason no one else but Ty’wren could kill Ignari. How do you fight back against such overwhelming fear?
Ty’wren was, however, his father’s son, and had inherited that power from a different source. A much more powerful one as well, Nightmares.
A Nightmare by nature was nebulous. More of a black cloud that exuded malice, at least in Ty’wren’s eyes. The exact look of it varied depending on who witnessed it and whom its hostility was directed toward. It formed out of his shadow, and rushed towards Ignari. As it descended upon Ignari the pressure and Fear on Ty’wren’s mind lessened and allowed him to focus on fueling the Nightmare.
"STOP."
A reiteration of the command pushed back against his will, unsettling him once again. Even with a Nightmare bearing down on him, the power Ignari commanded was nigh impossible to overcome. Ty’wren had no other moves left and so played his last ditch effort to end this once and for all. His power as a Wanderer was made of four Aspects and so far he’d only used two: Change, and Nightmare. He would end this with the third. Invoking Choice was all or nothing. If this didn't work, he would be completely overtaken by the fear radiating from his father. A voice rang in his head, giving him his question.
Who is stronger, the King, or the General?
The Choice would affect him and his other Aspects in relation to the answer he gave. There was never any clear right option, nor was it possible for there to ever really be one. There was simply the Question, and his Answer.
"King": A person who exuded influence and commanded respect. He was fair, just, and beloved by his people. But most importantly, a King ruled absolutely, without Fear.
The utterance of the word manifested physically in the world. Ty’wren’s stood taller, as his presence as a person grew. He was now King. The power of the King forced the fear to retreat to the back of his mind. The Nightmare similarly, was strengthened by the influence of the King and fully invaded Iganri, pacifying and ending the Fear that permeated the air.
Ty’wren approached Ignari and laid his sword’s tip under his chin. The corruption had almost fully taken over Ignari’s mind, and their prior fight no doubt quickened its influence in his blood. If he didn't kill him now, he’d have to fight Iganri’s true strength. There was hesitance in his blade though. Despite everything, it was still his father’s life that he was trying to end. Nothing could ever make that any easier for him.
"You don’t have the luxury of hesitation, Ty’wren." Despite everything, his father still spoke, keeping a grip on his fading psyche.
"I don’t... I don’t know what I’ll do once you're gone. " Ignari had been Ty’wren’s ultimate goal since birth. He grew up with a single minded dedication to build his strength, all so he could one day beat him. With that gone, he would be completely lost.
"You’ll find your way. End it, Ty’wren. I am but another face in your story now. " He shifted under the blade, forcing it to break skin. Ty’wren stared at the tiny trickle of blood as he gripped his swords tighter.
He inhaled, and swung.
<><><>
The last rites of a Wanderer were not complicated, but doing it alone had cost Ty’wren most of the daylight. He put away the Scythe before searching his father for stray valuables to be given to their family’s crypt keeper. Finding nothing, he then searched around the nearby woods for flowers. The valley’s nearby vegetation had been scorched by Ignari’s rampage, but a few stray blossoms remained that Ty’wren used Change to make into the proper ones, the osiria rose.
The hardest part was shaving. He cradled his father’s head in his lap and slowly cut it off, wrapping it in spare cloth from his bag till it was all cropped short and even. The entire time, he couldn’t stop staring. He’d heard of dead bodies looking as if they were asleep but never understood till now. If he shifted his eyes slightly he could imagine the ghost of movement. He could imagine air filling his father’s lungs, maybe in preparation to scold him on the proper hold of the blade. But the words never came, and Ignari remained still.
When he was done he sat for a moment, then reached out and grabbed one of his father's hands. Ty’wren thought back to the times he had trained with his father. Every time Ty’wren fell it was this same hand that hoisted him back up, shifting him back into form. At the time, Ty’wren hadn't really understood what the training was for. He knew anybody could be afflicted with the Black Mind but at the time, it was more of a boogeyman. A fleeting ghost of a past he hadn’t seen. Even when the signs first started, there had been some measure of denial in him. Ignari was everything Ty’wren looked up to. His definition of power rested in that man. And now it felt like it might have died with him.
The shifting of light caught his attention, and Ty’wren realized it was close to sunset, he would have to hurry. He laid his father down and arranged the body of his father. His hands were crossed over his chest, holding the roses. With a few more around his head. With the body prepared, Ty'wren knelt by his father's feet and prayed to The Outsider to receive the soul. After a few seconds, Ignari’s body started glowing. A soft red aura surrounded him, ebbing off and floating into the sky.
Ty’wren stared at the fading aura as it dissipated. Even when it was all gone, he stayed still, feeling too numb to do anything. The world would not wait for him, however. He felt the call of his brother, Jakoby, in the back of his mind. He needed to go.
After the soul’s departure, there was nothing keeping the body together. It faded away into dust, being picked up by the summer breeze. When the last of the dust had left, he picked up the discarded scythe and plunged it into the ground where the body had been. As he turned and left, he ignored the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, and the tears on his face as the hand retreated.