The Rising Sun: Episode 3 (11 page)

And as the three of them watched, the
cloaked figure standing ahead of them turned. Despite the passage
of centuries, the three of them saw that Mantra looked not a day
older than the twenty one year old they had seen in the courtroom’s
flashback. And yet, his face was laden with an age old darkness, a
sorrow that swept away all of the joy and vigour of his youth.

Now, with the passage of centuries after the
fall of the ancient empire, it was obvious that Mantra was the only
remaining Nyon who had lived during that time. He was, undoubtedly
their leader now. Their only guide in this dark, dangerous time. A
Nyon stood beside him, conversing in a hushed tone. Mantra
responded in an equally hushed voice, nodding and shaking his
head.

And then, after what felt like ages, their
conversation settled to a stop. And the two of them turned to face
each other full in the face. Unless Ion’s eyes were deceiving him,
he could sense something sparkling in those hazy white eyes.

“Very well, then.” he said softly, to
another Nyon standing beside him. “I guess all is not lost.
If
this succeeds. And for the sake of this realm, I sure
hope it does.”

The other Nyon gave him a sharp nod.

Mantra turned and raised his hands,
gathering all the attention in the room swiftly.

“Fellow brothers,” he called. “I fear that
too much has gone to loss over the madness of the Xeni’s onslaught.
And for centuries, our toil has gone wasted … there is no force in
existence that can match the sheer terror that they exact.” His
tone suddenly grew quiet. “Except
one.
”

As the effect of his words took over, the
rest of the rebel Nyon across the room looked about curiously.

“Which one, are you talking of?” asked one
of them, stepping forth towards their leader.

“What do you mean, Mantra?” asked
another.

Mantra smiled. And for the flicker of a
second, he looked like the bright, younger man they had seen in the
earlier scenes.

“There is hope, my fellow men.” he said
softly. “There is a way after all, to fight this darkness. And I
guarantee you, I have seen it. I have seen the
light
.”

The scene swum, and now the three of them
were suddenly standing amidst a blinding tirade of light. It was
like the light of a thousand suns blasting as one. And Ion, Qyro
and Vestra covered their eyes, fearing that the dazzle would leave
their eyes scorched.

But through the flood of golden light, they
could spot outlines. Sitting kneeled before the storm of
brightness. It was the Nyon. And suddenly, booming out of the
endless light, came a voice … a voice like nothing else Ion had
heard his entire life. It seemed to leave his soul reverberating as
he heard it. It contained a fire that set Ion’s mind ablaze as he
heard it.

“Yes,” said Elderon, his voice thundering
across the world of light that the Nyon now knelt before. The soul
of creation itself. “You shall have it. You shall have a way. And I
will give you the right to win this war, and to bring triumph to
our world
.”

One of the Nyon spoke, his voice subdued
before the ancient force of good:

“Thank you.” said Mantra’s humbled voice.
“And in return, I promise you, we, the brotherhood of Nyon will
fight for you. For your victory. And the rest shall be announced
soon enough.”

Before they knew what had happened, the
light sucked itself back in like a vacuum chasm. And the entire
batch of Nyon were seen kneeling on the ground of the room. But
there was a strange radiance in the air, dispelling the sense of
gloom it had been in earlier.

“The Nyon had communed with Elderon,” came
the real Mantra’s voice, playing over the scene as Ion, Vestra and
Qyro watched. “And Elderon had given them a gift to fight for his
side, and for his world. He had given them the greatest, and most
powerful instrument that they could have asked for.”

As his voice faded into silence, the three
of them watched with their eyes wide: the batch of cloaked figures
slowly rose. Mantra, the foremost of the Nyon, was still kneeling
on the ground. When he rose and turned, one of his hands was
clenched tightly. He gazed about, meeting every pair of eyes in the
room: everyone in the room was watching him intensely.

And, with the entire hall staring at him in
a deafening suspense, Mantra slowly opened his clenched fist. And
Ion saw within it, a bright, glowing object. A closer look told him
that it was a conch. It glowed in bright orange, spreading its
warmth and light across the entire room, and leaving a flickering
gleam in Mantra’s eyes as he stared down at it.

“What … is it?” asked one of the Nyon, his
voice curious and hesitant.

Mantra’s eyes lit with a smile.

“All we need.”

And the real Mantra’s voice played over the
scene:

“The Grael conch was an ancient instrument,
one forged by Elderon himself. Elderon had gifted the Nyon an army
for themselves. An army woven off his own life force. They were
known as the watchmen. The conch had the power to summon the army
of watchmen, and to control them. The watchmen were servants of
Elderon, meant for protecting the force of harmony in the
world.”

The scene stirred, and now the few members
of the Nyon that lingered after the empire’s fall were standing
outside of the Nyon temple, which stood behind them. The cloaked
figures were all gazing at Mantra who stood upfront, holding the
glowing conch carefully within both hands.

“Gentlemen,” he said, without turning, to
the Nyon behind him. “Let’s end this once and for all.”

And he sounded the Grael conch.

And as soon as he did, the scene changed.
Now, the three Nyon were floating over another raging battle below
on ground. A second war. Between the Nyon, and the Xeni’s empire.
But this one was evened out: as the three of them floated to a stop
on the ground, they saw the watchmen … And the spirits of Elderon
were unimaginable in their beauty and energy. Unlike the hazy
demons, they seemed to radiate warmth and light. They were all
completely normal men, but their outlines seemed to flicker with
ghostly flames that robed their entire body. The sight was both awe
binding and terrible. They were all carrying ignited swords and
slashing past the demons’ army. They moved with the speed of ten
men in one, and their fiery forms were a rapid orange blur as they
streaked through the army of the smoky demons, slicing them all
down.

“The watchmen,” said the real Mantra’s
voice, ringing over the scene again, so that the sounds of the
battle went dull. “The spirits of Elderon, were a thousand in
number. A thousand warriors possessing every mystical power. They
were men in their build, completely normal men, but men whose souls
contained the fire of Elderon, and who would never let it
dampen.

“The great army came with an arsenal made
for war, one of which was the fastest, most powerful warship ever
to exist, known as Flamebird. And thus, the Nyon were gifted with a
force that could try and oppose the wrath of the vicious
demons”

Now, they were floating in space again, and
Ion felt his breath seize at the awe of the sight before them:

A battle raging in mid space. A titanic
clash between two powerful forces.

Giant battle cruisers were frozen around,
while smaller warships zipped across all over. The black abyss was
coloured with a million orbs of light and jet tailed missiles
streaking about.

In the middle of the madness, one of the
ships soared right before where the three of them were watching the
scene. An orange coloured falcon shaped ship. Majestic looking, and
powerful. It streaked through the mayhem like a knife cleaving
butter. Slashing right through all the enemy ships in its wake…

“Flamebird…” Vestra repeated absently.

Ion let his eyes follow the magnificent,
falcon shaped ship as it shot across at speeds unimaginable.

“And so, with the army of watchmen by their
side, the Nyon re surfaced and waged a war with Redgarn’s empire,
to set the spectrum free from him.” said Mantra’s voice. “And not
long after, we triumphed. The Xeni and their empire was torn down
and destroyed. Redgarn and the surviving members of the Xeni were
sent to Taurandor … where they were meant to have been from the
start. They were left to die there, and the dusted remains of their
bodies would be found till this day in the ancient prison.”

Mantra’s voice gave a moment’s pause. And
when it went on, there was a deeper touch of sorrow within it.

“For almost hundreds of years, we had dreamt
of it … but when it came, when victory sealed over the evil empire,
we realised it was no victory at all. It was just a lessened
defeat: the empire of Elderon had gone, its heirs all lost. And the
golden age had forever come to an end. Our triumph was but a
fleeting glimpse of an illusion of freedom that would never exist.
For we knew that now, all of mankind was lost, lost without the
guidance of our true leaders. Without the light of the Sirengard.
And the evil empire’s tyranny had cast a black taint on the world
of the mystic. One that would last eight thousand years hence…”

The scene changed. And now, they were
standing in an office room. There were suited men all standing
about the place, their faces grim. And finally, cutting through the
silence, one of the men spoke:

“Mystics are an abomination. They were the
very reason this tragic devastation of our spectrum happened in the
first place…”

And as the three of them watched the memory
in horror, the leaders of the newly established anti terrorist
organisation, the Naxim, sealed their statement and their mission
as the enemies of tyranny … and as the enemies of mystics. For the
two of them, they believed, were the same.

“… and the rest of the spectrum,” concluded
the man speaking at last, while the rest of the high council
nodded. “completely agrees with us. All of the spectrum’s newly
risen states are willing to form a pact with us, stating their
complete opposition to mystics.” The man’s face hardened. “From
this day forth, this spectrum will show no mercy to them.
Mystics.”

Mantra’s voice then said: “Faced with defeat
at the fall of their leader, their evil empire was broken. Our
victory had led them to flee for their lives: the few among the
Xeni who had survived the war against the Nyon, were forced to
flee. But … the few surviving Xeni, along the demon army, were
never going to give up on their long sought goal. Not so easily.
With the war’s outcome evident, they knew that for the time being,
nothing could be done: For the demon army was being hunted down by
the newly established Naxim and the Nyon and the watchmen together.
The Xeni were broken, and only a few of them survived the war. The
other side’s victory had been certain, and they knew that if they
wanted to make a move to reclaim the world, they would have to
wait.

“With Elderon’s victory over Mezmeron, the
demons were left in a weakened state: they were borne of the life
of Mezmeron and they needed the life force of Mezmeron, or anarchy,
to feed them. They could not sustain themselves in a world where
Elderon had triumphed. And so, they left our realm. They sealed
themselves in another dimension where they would slumber, until
this world had come under the clutches of Mezmeron again…

“And so, hidden safely in another dimension,
the demon army awaited the time when Elderon’s grasp loosened over
the realm, and Mezmeron grew to great power. They awaited the time
when anarchy had reached its peak in our world again. And when it
did, the demons would return to thrive on the force of Mezmeron,
the force that feeds their life…

“The Xeni held the key to the dimension
where the demons were hidden. With their order broken, they went
into hiding, but keeping the key safe with them. The key to the
dimension where their army of terror was hidden. They planned to
bide their time in the darkness, waiting for the right time to
strike again: they waited for the time when their order would rise
from the ashes again … and took anarchy and chaos to its highest
level in the world. And when that time came, when the force of
Mezmeron rose again, they would use the key to the dimension where
the demon army was hiding, to set them free … and would use them to
finish what Redgarn had started.”

And the scene changed before them, showing a
group of hooded figures moving down a large expanse. One of them
stopped and held a small object before the others. The key to
releasing the demon army…

… It was the crystal they had recovered from
the village.

This was the key to unleashing the Xeni’s
dark army.

As one, as the three of them watched the
scene, the bits and pieces flew together, zooming in to form the
picture. And they understood everything. They understood what the
crystal was so important for. It was
most
important.

“They call it the plague crystal.” Mantra’s
echo like voice said. “And it was the instrument of releasing their
demon army from the realm where it lay sealed away, slumbering. And
for that one reason, it is the singular bane of everything the Nyon
had striven, bled and died for.”