Freedom, and its costs

[BetaFlame]

The thing about wanting to be free.. is that you could only be free when you made choices for yourself. There were things Aleksei wanted, and weights he had to shed, but he had to do them in his own way. He knew what he needed to do, though. His fingers stroked over the pages of the book, written in the language of his home. Wards, bindings, magics that his kind were never meant to know. Vessels they were called. Though, that word didn't really translate it well enough. Natural mages, taken from their homes before they were ten years old, forced to hold the spirit of some extraplanar creature. The strength of the mind determined the strength of the creature to be held. He was very strong, and he was Chosen to be the Successor of the Third Knight. His mentor was the last of the Original Twelve, other than the King himself. He had learned from one of the best. His mentor had told him he must be the one to free her. Madora, the Sun Warrior. To drive the point home, his master had used bindings to seal Aleksei into a prison for a week, just so he could feel what it was like to see and commit crimes, but not be able to ever stop it. It was horrifying.

He sighs and lifts his eyes to the ceiling again. Memories haunted him today. Memories and guilt. Doing something he knew would be felt as a betrayal to someone he cared about later always brought this on. Glenn was going to be angry. Agnie.. oh gods, she might kill him. He stands and stretches his arms over his head, arching his back till shoulders and spine pop. Either way, it was time to get this started. It was time to rid himself and Myrken of this gods-be-damned axe. Part of him was still baffled by the 'kill it' suggestion. First thing was first. His shirt was shed so he could get to his arm. Words started to flow from his lips, old words of power from a language that predated anything. He was combining the binding rituals with the knowledge he had gained from the skinbook, and creating wards with the Words of Creation. Runes started to glow on his arms, shimmering like heat waves. Each rune was like a paragraph, and the runes took form slowly. His palm, the back of his hand. Around his wrist, and lines flowing up to the silvered circle around his bicep, joining with it. They merged and danced. Time became meaningless as he chanted. The last of the Words spoken, and suddenly a huge flare, massive light flashing out from his skin. Then the smell of burning flesh. Memories flooded him again, as he head fell backwards, mouth opened in a silent scream. The pain overwhelmed all senses, all reason. He had done this once before. Once when he was still only Aleksei. When it all fades, he is on the ground, on hands and knees, heavy, trying to to breath. His right arm is covered in another series of the same runic bindings that circle his thighs, biceps and the giant circle on his back. It looks as if the silver itself as melted into the skin. His flexes his hand as he slowly sits back so he is just kneeling. At least he had done it correctly. It had healed.

It was at least another hour before he had gained his mind back enough to start this. He moved himself to the basement, what had been Eleanor's lab. Here she had set up portals to the plane of fire, and it was far easier to twist a portal than make a new one. He never did understand what her purpose was, and it tugged at his heart that she had left.

Work to be done. He studied her portal, fingers running over the arch stones as he gazed at the rune patterns. "This one, here. The keystone." He pulled it out, and the portal died. The stone was turned to a blank face, and the runed hand laid over it, imparting some of the power he had given it, etching a new rune in the blank face of the stone. Replaced into the empty recess, the portal flared in protest for a few moments before it opened to a wind blasted landscape, barren of all life. Tunnels that seemed to vanish. A wind so powerful it carried rocks as large as a man.

Pandemonium.

Now, for the terrible part.

He moved back a few steps, to give himself room and laid his hands on the floor. A circle of light flared into the ground, new runes burned into place on the floor, then another. A warding circle to contain the influence of Kharnagar, and a new one. The reverse of the circle that had drawn Kharnagar into the plane with his Celestial, and it began, forcing and pushing the daemon out and back into the world.

"It's time to be free, daemon."

[Vanidor]

Freedom. It was something that the daemon yearned for as much as it desired the corruption of the pure beauty that had been bound unto Aleksei. It had been nuzzling itself up against the wardings within the man, whispering Words to the Celestial contained within. Kharnagar felt that it had been close. The Celestial was as much a furious thing, as it was a being of peace. It was nothing to feed upon that burning hatred for all that Kharnagar represented. How much easier it would be for the Celestial to wage war upon the Hosts of Chaos, if it just accepted a sliver of Kharnagar's own wrath. It hated it's own kind as much as the Celestial, it would seem. No. No. It just loved conflict. Conflict for it's own sake, and the spilling of sweet-precious blood.

Yet. Here it is being offered Freedom. And it accepts it. The axe, all that was truly left of Kharnagar physically, slithered it's way out of Aleksei. It trailed a viscous river of blood, though none of it fell beyond the confines of the ward that now entrapped it. The beast had figured this much. Few ever called upon a THING such as Kharnagar without protections. What it did not expect was the shrill howling that also filled the space.

It was an odd thing. The deepest part of Kharnagar's being (could it be called a soul?) felt at ease with the whorling chaos that was Pandemonium. At the darkest heart, all the daemons of It's ilk were made of such a thing. But it had an intelligence, raw and cunning, and it KNEW what Pandemonium was. What it could mean. And so it struggled. It struggled against the bondings, as much as it desired to be free on such a place. It wondered. Could It be free of the Axe, here on this plane? Could the busy winds and twisting catacombs grind the axe down and free It's spirit? It would be nice to be free of the Axe and It's own imperatives. Oh the slaughter it could wreak! The joyous, joyous slaughter!

It would lash at Aleksei with that... That feeling. How much could the bondings withstand, of a Daemon feeling Joy and Terror and Bloody-mouthed Desire all at once? Maybe He would join Kharnagar thusly. Wasn't he made to combat other Daemons and their type? Who better a companion that one that wished to destroy other Daemons as well. He'd even, willingly, allow Aleksei to wield the axe (which was a potent weapon all on it's own, housing a daemons essence non-withstanding). Oh the havoc the three of them could wreak upon the domain that had spit him out. All Kharnagar would need is to be freed of the axe itself. The Power they could wield. Daemon. Mortal. Celestial. The Thing within the axe gibbered with barely contained enthusiasm.

They could challenge the very deities, the three of them. Yes. Yes they could.

[BetaFlame]

The odd thing about Aleksei, he desired none of these things. Power, riches servants.. all held no appeal to him. It was not even contact with the Celestial that had given him these feelings. Rather, it was these feelings that had given him the ability to be the Vessel that housed such a being as the Celestial. The temptations that Kharangar offered him just brought a little smile to his lips. "What? Fight fire with fire? Is that what you offer me now? Turn myself into that which I was made to fight, just so I can fight it? That's a fallacy, Daemon. I could hold myself longer than most men ever could against your corruption, but eventually I would be come one with you. No, turning yourself into a monster to kill monsters makes about as much sense as going to war to gain peace."

He shuts out the Daemon then and stands, pulling the protective cloak around his shoulders. "Unbind, first Seal." The power flooded him for the first time in months, since that night. Since that night he had not access the power of his Angel once, fearing to weaken her to Kharangar's influence while it shared space with her. Now, they would be as One again, and resist together. Perhaps.. for the last time. Her power filled him, flushing his skin with new life, washing away the weariness that had come from the sleepless nights. Eyes of blue became eyes of silver as he blinked down at the axe before him. The new runes that covered his lower right arm seemed to glow, almost.. hungry. This was the gamble, the part he was unsure of. The part he wanted Renea around for, in case it didn't work. But now she was dead, leaving him with a lack of options. He gained focus again, feeding the power of the Celestial into his body down into the wards on his arm.

They were purpose made. Targetted at the creature that had shared his brain for so long. He knew eventually a Daemon of that monstrous would certainly not be completely contained, and would eventually defeat them entirely, but.. he didn't need forever.

The purpose of these wards was not binding, or banishing, or even defeating Kharangar, but.. to suppress. He just wanted the buy enough time to get to where he was going on the Plane.

His hands flexed, and he stepped into the circle with the axe, steeling himself against the Voices and Corruption, reaching down to close his warded grip around the Daemon. "Enjoy the feel of warmth, it will be the last for a very long time, Daemon."

[Vanidor]

The daemon weapon twitched and moaned at the warded contact of living flesh. It desired such a thing, to be held and used. To reap a bloody slaughter amidst the stars and planes of the multi-verse. To howl with cruel glee at destruction wrought simply for the sake of destruction. It would have kept this bountiful desire hidden from Aleksei if It could, but there were some things that could not be so. Especially after one had spent time perusing the Tome.

Kharnagar was what It was. It knew that the simple modes of corruption, the promises and urges and desires, would not work upon This one. Aeryn had been easy. Near death the man had taken a promise of life and power. He had damned himself before even knowing it. No. Aleksei would have to be overpowered. Him AND his Celestial. This would have been easier for the Daemon had It still retained It's natural form. Alas.

And so, as Aleksei went to grip the weapon it shuddered and quivered. The chain that had once been bound to Aeryn whipped and clattered, trying to seek purchase upon the Archmage of Myrken. The thing sprayed blood as it did so, scattering vitae in the area that it was warded into, the rest hissing at the edges before fizzing away. Waves of uncontrolled and saturating violence seeped from the thing, here within the warded space. It was not as strong as it could have been, as it had been when last the weapon was found. But the emanations were strong.

It was as if all the hatred that could be drawn from the world was poured into that one item, and all that was trying to overcome Aleksei. To overcome purity with rage and cruelty. It hated having to resort to such base things, but emotion, raw and uncompressed, was a powerful thing non the less.

[BetaFlame]

He shudders with it. He had not expected raw emotion from the thing. Promises, whispers. Temptation, even. Not this, not the white hot rage, the feeling of power that came with violence. He mentally staggers. Within him, the Second Aleksei can feel it, and wants it. The lesser personality, the one that had lost, and was now suppressed by the magic of the Binding of Soul. It fights at its magical chains within him RELEASE ME., it screams into his head, just on the other side of the wards that keep Kharnagar from him. The Second reaches and near whimpers in his head as they war.

Fighting it all is useless, so he does the next best thing. He ignores it. The flailing chain. The blood, the screaming in his head. He is Discipline. That is why he became the Dominate personality over this twisted seething wretch in his head. With slow deliberate strides through the Gate. He knew She would protect him from the madness. But after? What happened then? No, better to not think over much on it. Even has he step through, the Gate shut behind him, the reverberation feeling like doom behind him.

So now.. the only thing to do was walk. He needed to be in a place that was not weak in the Planar Mesh, one away from where Gates would open.

And so he walks. Kharnagar raging at him, his own Mind raging at him. The Winds of Pandemonium raging at him. And only one Celestial to protect him. Even now, the Winds ripped sand across his face, drawing blood.

[Vanidor]

The whipping of the chain eventually manages to curl itself around Aleksei's arm, though the thing finds no purchase upon the warded flesh. The links caress, however, leaving streaks of crimson vitae that writhe and thicken. The anger continues to pulse, waves of pure and unmitigated anger at being imprisoned within the haft and blade of the Axe. Just like the lesser Aleksei here was contained, it would provoke. To be denied it's own life and bound to the will of another.

Could it persuade that second, lesser, Will to move and strike, whilst It was doing the same? The wards were strong. Stronger than Kharnagar expected really. Most of those within this realm had not the power to do anything such against a mighty daemon such as It. Could it be done? Especially HERE of all places, where the maddening winds of Pandemonium were whipping at everything. There was a part of Kharnagar that wanted to just enjoy the whistling chaos. It called to It's Primordial Self. Perhaps... perhaps... perhaps it could just convince Aleksei to continue wandering...

There was much to Pandemonium and it's Windswept crevasses. There were worse places to get lost, even worse places to loose your mind...

[BetaFlame]

If only the Daemon knew. Aleksei was already lost. If he knew not where he placed the axe, then could not be persued or coaxed into telling any beast of chaos where it was. No, it was better this way. He just stops. Staring at the walls of the vast cavern before him. One of the few dead ends inside this Realm. This would do. This would be Kharnagar's new home, hopefully for a very long time.

But he's tired. He Will and Body are bolstered by the power of the Heavens, but even now he weakens. He tires. Aleksei is only mortal. He has carried this burden for a long time, longer than he had thought possible. The ones he thought would support him did fully trust that he could do this. That he was still Aleksei. But was he? Was he ever really Aleksei? He did not even remember his birth name. Aleksei River was the name granted to him on the Day of Merging.

His feet find their way to the center of the room. As much as he has a grip on the axe, now he grips him, chain coiled about his arm. Kneeling, he presses the creature to the ground and takes a deep breath. Part of him.. said no. This plan was wrong. He was vulnerable. He could not trust. Why was he doing this?

The trust was.. there was no grand plan. Aleksei was making it up as he went. How does one plan for a the rage of a Daemon in your head? There is nothing in Heaven, Hell, or on Earth that can prepare a mortal for what Aleksei has carried, and the scars in his mind will never fully heal. No, this was born of desperation and pain. He needed to be rid of this.

And he needed to keep his word to Glenn. He would be free of both of them today.

So he made his final preparations. He didn't know if he would survive this. He had left a letter for Agnie. Left it where she would look for it if he wasn't home by tomorrow. Not next to her open whiskey, but the bottle behind it. Clever.

He takes a deep breath in. He had to be sure. This was hard, he was letting go of something that had been a part of him of as long as he could remember. But it was time to let go of it all.

His voice can barely be heard over the howl of the winds, "Five seals, unbind." Light poured from his silvered tattoos, ripping through the cavern, flaring to life. He straightens and cries out in pain for a moment as the tattoo on his back burns its pattern into a far wall. Slowly, a being from the High Heavens seeped from the wall. Almost female, with skin like burnished gold. She was hairless, with a golden halo floating over her head. Brilliant white wings bursting forth from her shoulder blades.

But most of all she laid on the floor. Unmoving. This was not the plan.

The holy energy faded from his body, and his wards protecting him from the Daemon began to fail.

This.. was not the plan.

[Vanidor]

Lost. Lost. LOST. WE ARE LOST. The weapon is raging at this fact. Even in it's own form of bloody minded insanity. Even with the small taste of glee of being in such a place. IT does not WISH to be Lost. But it is. It is angry and lost. Like a petulant child it has raged as Aleksei moved across the landscape. And as it is set down, there is a stab of bitter agony from the weapon. Blunted by the wards, but it is there. To be lost and to be without the touch of sweet, sweet flesh and the blood that flowed beneath...

But, oh. What is this. The axe is free of the wardings, though it is inert upon the ground, the chain coiling uselessly. There is power in the air that continues to leave it laying there upon the windswept terrain, and it keeps the weapon at bay. This is. This is until the creature that resided with Aleksei appears. She seemed just as lifeless as the axe, though here... Here there is some queer joy from the thing. A flash of ancient power, a flare of eldritch energy. Aleksei has the training to SEE, if he had the will to survive it.

Kharnagar, as it once was. Three legs there were jointed much like a goat, with two hooves much like the same but the third a tri-pointed hand. The legs lead to a waist covered in blood-slick fur and a torso to match. Great arms, so massive that it would seem like they could crush the sun, were covered in a mix of bone and bronze armour plating. In each mighty paw, an axe that drizzled the blood of a million murders. Yet it is the head. The face of a child, innocent and naive. With eyes that SEEM to be without guile, but hide hideous intent. This image is there for but a moment, flashing in the space above the axe. And it would seem, spectrally, that one of those axes would chop down at the prone Solar.

Nothing beyond the destruction of THAT which placed it within the blade would ever give back the form which it once was, of course, but it could exult over what it perceived. And that took energy that it SHOULD have been using to try and further damn Aleksei. To get him to pluck the blade up from the ground and wield it like a herald of blood. A new Master of the Eight. Another to tread the Path of Bronze and mount the Skull Throne. No. Instead it is mocking a fallen Angel.

They are all Lost.

[BetaFlame]

She was Fallen. That was the worst of it. The axe had poured its hideous energy into her for all those months, pushing and tugging at her with teasing thoughts. It had found her weakness at some point. Rodel. The priests. In a brief moment of weakness she had wanted to kill them all, to rage and lash about, ravaging their lands. Killing all. Men, women, and children. All until she saw the face of Aleksei. The one person that was willing to free her in that thrice cursed land. The person who had given up everything to do so. That had pulled her back from the brink, but the damage had been done. For one of her kind, there can be no wavering in commitment.

And such their plan was hatched. She knew the corruption would spread through her eventually. A being like Kharnagar? She was a Solar, but she was not a Prime. She had no True Name. No mark in the Host that set her apart as a Power. She could already feel it in her heart. That's why this had to happen. Why she had to be freed. She would Fall, Aleksei would Fall, and they would belong to Kharnagar. She would not let that happen.

The trick of it had been keeping the plan from the Daemon. That meant keeping it from Aleksei. Sealing it in the deepest parts of his mind, so he would act without thought. Something the critically thinking, self examining man was unused too.

Slowly, she rises from the ground and steps forward. One soft foot fall, then the other. A voice like a silver bell calls out, "Aleksei, tordash-chan'do" Aleksei stands like a puppet, drawing the sword he had forged. While the Axe uses its energy to put on a show for them, Aleksei lifts a blade with a single rune carved into its edge and drives it into the heart of the Solar standing before him.

Power. That's all there is. She had prepared for this moment. A final act of Redemption. Her life to make a prison. Her life to redeem Aleksei. Her life to save more. Her blood flowed out, over Aleksei's hands like a river. His eyes widen. "What? No! This--"

Her voice, a calm bell in the winds, "Is exactly what was supposed to happen."

Then it pours into his mind. Why had he come here? Why had he forged a weapon to kill her? He knew

Blood magic. The thing he hated, is what was powering the spell already happening all around him. Turning this cavern into a prison for the Daemon Axe. A second seal all around it. He released the hilt of the blade, even as golden wardens started to appear everywhere. Walls, floor and ceiling. The solar sank to her knees, letting her power flow freely into the ground of the place. Already the doorway was starting to seal up. He looked at the being he had shared his life with. At the axe laying on the floor. The blood on his hands seemed to soak into his body. But surely that was a perception of his mind, twisted by this place. And he would turn and run. Run for the door.

And unless the axe could stop him, it would be sealed inside a room whose wards prevented it from calling out across the cosmos. For eons.

[Vanidor]

The weapon exults in the scenery. Overjoyed at the damnation that was playing out before it. Oh, it would have enjoyed being wielded by the Solar. Few things could have been better than to return to it's home realm, reaping a terrible harvest, at the hand of a fallen angel. It was a damnation that few of it's kind ever completed. Most angels would destroy themselves first, most daemons didn't have the power or patience to get that far. But this! Not only was the angel fallen and ready to pick it up, but it's vessel was ready to sacrifice it... No.

NO! The voiceless bellow would rock the chamber. The vengeance they could lay upon both of their tormentors. Rodel and the Knights. The Priests. The Fellow Daemons of the Host! No! Psychic energy broiled from the blade, lashing in all directions to try and disabuse the wards from forming. But there was the thing. A thing that the axe, the thing that lived within it, and all of the creatures of it's ilk could never understand.

Selfless sacrifice. Why! WHY! When they could have been as Gods together! The energy lashes at Aleksei next, that which had stolen from It the chance to walk amongst the Gods once again. No. No it could not STOP this from happening. And it was frantic to imbed... Something. A piece. A parcel. A single link of chain is torn free from the axe, the sound of it like a thousand screaming children. This piece hurls itself at the retreating Aleksei, propelled by the mind-craze of Kharnagar. To attach or to burrow. To hide amidst the folds of clothing or in lengths of hair. A piece. To hide and to punish, for there is force behind the assault.

In either case. Kharnagar will continue to wail, adding it's screams to the perilous cries of Pandemonium.

[BetaFlame]

He could not know the anger of the axe. He just knew he had to get out. He dives for the door, even as the last chain hits the ground. He avoided it..! No, a small shard flies, embedding itself into his flesh. But who could tell? With all this wind and chaos and screaming? Maybe he just pulled something.. rolled over a rock. No, he certainly avoided that. He kneels there, panting on hands and knees as the doorway seals shut behind him.

He can feel it. The power seeping into him from the blood staining his hands. Her last gift. A bit of her power, what she did not need to stop this. But she had ended it, finally. He had her puppet to do it, but the last gasp was to seal that monster away for a very long time. And this... this meant he could leave here alive. If he were merely human, his body would have been shredded by the winds, and his mind corrupted. But no, he was whole and a live if slightly battered and worse for wear over it.

So he stands and focuses. Yes, he can see it. The power she gave him in his mind, and his own power. The focus he needs to find his way.. there. He reaches for it, in a clumsy fashion, grasping it and forcing it out...

Then he is falling, back in Myrken, crashing into a window and landing into the bed next to Agnie. He smells of sweat and blood, and he's bleeding from his face, hands and side. But he's alive, and laughing.

[Vanidor]

And in a cave, there upon the windswept plains and caverns of Pandemonium waited Kharnagar. Isolated within the embrace of the cavern, shielded by wards made strong by self sacrifice and purity, Kharnagar waited. It knew it would be here for a time. Years. Centuries. Aeons. Barring the mishap and luck of adventurers, and the nature of the plane itself, Kharnagar was idle.

However many millenia would pass, Kharnagar would wait. It was patient. And in that time, it would brood, seeping blood into a puddle beneath it. It would wait, and it would hate. Forever.

Forever.