Jackal Among Snakes

Orion stepped in front of a large wooden house that was guarded by a great contingent of royal knights. For a few moments, they braced in anticipation of the big man that entered before them. Yet when recognition dawned, one stepped forth.

“Prince Orion?!” the man shouted, infinitely surprised. “You… you’ve returned?” The man took a deep breath, and duty came to the front of his mind. “The king informed us to send you to him as soon as you were found.”

“People say Vasquer is down there,” Orion looked at the man.

Orion and Boarmask passed back through the Burnt Desert, travelling quickly. As time proceeded, Orion felt a sense of urgency—he even carried the knight on occasion to make the journey go faster. And once they passed over the mountains dividing Vasquer from the desert of black sand…

Vasquer. Not the kingdom nor the house, but the snake from which so much of both derived their legitimacy. Though Boarmask had said there was no such thing as a moment of enlightenment and Orion had never found one himself… as soon as he heard the news, his urgency to return to his home redoubled. It felt like a light amidst the tunnel of darkness he walked. This must be the answer he sought.

If any could free him of doubt and indecision, it was surely the one who had started this all: Vasquer.

Once Orion stepped back on the kingdom’s soil, the whispers returned… yet now, they felt strangely alien to him. Indeed, it was difficult to adapt, difficult to sleep. And he did not listen to them. He had another he might receive answers from, another he might find the truth from. And he pursued that goal relentlessly, readily accepting Boarmask’s help to this end. Now, the two of them had been led here by rumors and whispers.

All of that led him here.

“My prince, how did you get here?” another asked, stepping towards Orion. “The king and the guard have been searching for you. Your presence is desperately needed at the palace.”

“Is Vasquer in here?” Orion repeated, unheeding.

“Yes,” one royal knight finally answered, almost off-handedly.

Another knight looked at him angrily, yet quickly stepped up before Orion. “The king has forbidden all to enter here. Please, my prince, return to the palace.”

“The royal family is barred from nowhere,” Orion dismissed, stepping past.

protested, yet followed

he seemed to fly down the stairs, leaving light footsteps and disturbed air in his wake. The royal knights soon abandoned their efforts to subdue Orion, and he heard some mention that they

steep flight of stairs. He took them as quickly as the others… yet once he passed a certain point, a gargantuan figure entered his view. Golden, coiled, and bound… he saw Vasquer in all her glory. Her size and majesty were so awe-inspiring that Orion’s

the stairs time and time again, echoing across the vast stone chamber. His steps were slow, and a great nugget of nervousness writhed

his voice cut off as he, too, witnessed the great

the Bat until very recently. Yet from what Orion saw… she was still

eyes followed Orion as he walked, and he knew she saw and perceived him. He felt no horror, no fear, despite the sheer scope of this majestic serpent. It felt as though he walked towards a great protector—a figure of myth

Vasquer. In turn, the snake’s neck craned, her snout reaching out for his body. He felt drawn to her as iron to a magnet, and his hand raised to meet her. His flesh finally brushed against her scales, and it felt as though

from the gods’ way, different than his own thoughts… yet even still, its method was familiar. It was like his mother’s

right

like a bursting dam; instead, it was like the dam ceasing to exist in less than a second. His questions, his uncertainties, his self-doubt, his confusion, and his emotional turmoil spilled from his brain, their stagnant waters becoming a

that all as uncompromisingly

was real, he felt it in his very being. He did not know when, but he had collapsed to the ground and huddled against the giant

not in words. The world is a confusing place. No one can know

to an affliction that had plagued him his entire life. He did nothing but bask in the glow of this unprecedented relief. Vasquer’s scales were cold to the touch, yet the warmest experience he’d ever had. He felt alive, and he felt human. Both were things he did not

he had come here, what had spurred this

behalf of his ideals

so the

him… they had never come to Berendar to forge a kingdom. They came as protectors, defenders of the world. They sought to establish a bastion against the great evil

had endured. To call it an apocalypse was to undermine its power. It was, more than anything, death, destruction, and loss. It was the cold scrutiny of judgement. It decided whether this

dominion over men. He turned protectors into enforcers of his will and declared a kingdom. The second son craved dominion over life. He embraced the unnatural magic of vampirism and went

other, causing betrayals in their ranks and continued disunity until they both perished in their foolish, overreaching ventures. He embraced the help of ninety-six spirits who gave him power. In return, he

the great illusion of the Kingdom of Vasquer was born. The war against the elves, the origins of the gods… this third son twisted an ambitious conquest into a war of