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.

Boarmask protested, yet followed

entrenched in anticipation to heed the words shouted at his ears. Soon enough, he barreled past them all, for none were willing or able to harm him. His feet moved so quickly he seemed to fly down the stairs, leaving light footsteps and disturbed air in his

final, incredibly 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 breath

and time again, echoing across the vast stone chamber. His steps were slow, and a

“Or—” his voice cut off as

feet met the stone chamber housing the great serpent. Rumors dictated she had been trapped and bound by the Bat until very recently. Yet from what Orion saw… she was still

despite the sheer scope of this majestic serpent. It felt as though he walked towards a great protector—a figure of myth that he’d read of for years, manifest in flesh and blood.

as he neared 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,

The touch was entirely foreign to him, like a thought not his own persisting in his mind. It was different from the gods’ way, different than his own thoughts… yet even still, its

had ever felt so right as

questions, his uncertainties, his self-doubt, his confusion, and his emotional turmoil spilled from his brain, their stagnant waters becoming a flooding river in seconds. He felt a child again, grabbing at his mother’s shins and seeking her comfort from whatever had hurt

that all as uncompromisingly as a

was a sympathy and empathy so sweet and pure that Orion felt small once again. Unlike the words of men, unlike the whispers of gods… he knew this all was real, he felt it in his very being. He did not know when,

confused, the comfort came, though not in words. The world is a confusing place. No one can know anything for certain.

recall… he felt understood. It was like anodyne 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.

here, what had spurred this confusion, and the answers he sought. And he asked Vasquer all of them—his doubts about the pantheon, his doubts about Argrave and his family, and above

caution, planted an image of disaster in his head. The information she gave might hurt him. Orion did hesitate. He had thrown himself into danger on behalf of his ideals in the past, but Orion liked pain and suffering no more than any. Vasquer had given him his comfort. Now

so the

to forge a kingdom. They came as protectors, defenders of the world. They sought

apocalypse was to undermine its power. It was, more than anything, death, destruction, and loss. It was the cold scrutiny of judgement.

son craved dominion over men. He turned protectors into enforcers of his will and declared

first and second sons against each other, causing betrayals in their ranks and continued disunity until they both perished in

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 liberation, and