The Violet God's new chalice could be in Rukhnar. Was the shrine in the forest trying to tell Shervin something similar?
"I have heard horror stories of what happened last time the Mad One was free," said Shervin.
"Nobody wants a second Dark Age," said Naira. "But it might just be inevitable."
"I... I have to find my father. I need to tell him about this. How do I get out of this place?"
"Follow me."
Saying this, Naira touched a portion of the wall that was covered in reed, and it dilated to reveal a pathway, different from the alleyway they had crossed to come here. This path was broader than the last. But as they came out of the other side, Shervin realised that it opened not on the same spot they had left, but on the opposite side of the street. It was busier here. Fruit-sellers haggled with eager customers. A cobbler stitched the sole of a soldier's boot. Gardeners sold herbs in pretty little vases.
Life went on like nothing had happened. Like nothing ever would.
For a moment, Shervin felt disoriented, before Naira spoke.
"It happens," she said. "This is the effect of Porting Wards."
"I am losing count of the number of Wards in existence," said Shervin. Naira chuckled slightly. But Shervin's expression turned grim and Naira noticed it.
"What happened?"
"Naira, you must understand. I need to learn Warding. You have always known it. If there's a war coming... I can sense it. If the Mad One's Dreamwraiths are going to run rampage over our cities, then we might as well get ready."
"You're so stubborn!" said Naira. "If the Warder Sanctum knew that a village kid wanted warding abilities, they would lose their minds. That too a tailor's son."
"I know that. I have been reminded all my life about that fact! But that's wrong in being a tailor's son?" Shervin retorted. He didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. He also hated the fact that Naira wasn't taking his side in all this. "Don't village-folk have a right to protect themselves? Don't we have a right to dream of a better life?"
"No one is stopping village folk from aspiring for a better life!" Naira insisted. "You have got it all wrong."
"I have got it all wrong? You have seen me getting thrashed and bullied at school every damn week, and I have got it all wrong?"
"You will die if you try any warding!" Naira blurted out. Silence ballooned between them, an ugly thing. Naira was breathing heavily, while Shervin had a pinch in his chest.
"What do you mean?"
"It's not in your blood," said Naira, with a sigh of resignation. "You're an Unnatural. If you try to channel the Violet God's life-force, the kith, you will die a painful, horrible death. It has happened before, right here in Rukhnar."
Shervin felt numb. But a rage also simmered inside him. He was seething at the unfairness of it all. A mongrel's helpless, snivelling death was written in his blood by the gods and there was nothing he could do about it. What kind of justice was this?
Naira touched his arm with affection, a solemn expression on her face.
"I know it is important to you," she said. "But I also want you to be safe."
"That's the thing, Naira. I have never been safe."
There was a clatter of hooves and the dying groan of a cart to their left.
"Oi, kids, what are you doing here? It's not safe to be out right now!"
One of the Palace's White Guard was sitting atop a dazzling, grey stallion, whose luxurious mane reflected the sunlight in myriad ways. The soldier was tall and muscular, with an ebony coloured armour-plate and a sun-white robe. He was pulling a carriage covered with a green tarp flapping against the wind, and it wasn't immediately evident who was inside it.
"I am looking for my father," said Shervin.
The soldier's eyes narrowed. "You're the tailor's kid, aren't you?"
"You know me?"
"Well, people know the tailor," said the soldier. Then, he patted his robe. "This is your father's handiwork. And you..." His gaze shifted to Naira, who was staring slack-jawed at the beautiful horse. "...you should be inside while your father is on travels. These are dangerous times."
Naira wrinkled her nose at the soldier's suggestion. "I can handle myself," she said, confidently.
"Minister Vernit's daughter can, yes," observed the soldier. "But she can't be seen getting hurt on our watch. We have to keep our jobs after all."
"Can you help find my father, soldier?" Shervin interjected. "He has gone missing after the morning's attack."
"Your father is not the only one who has disappeared, kid. The entire village is in ruins. Much of the White Guard is now cleaning up the mess of the attack."
Shervin's shoulders sank.
"I wish I could help you kid. But I am on an official Palace mission, for obvious reasons," said the soldier, softly, trying to sound empathetic. "Here's what I can do, though. I can drop you off wherever you want. Hop in the cart."
Shervin looked at Naira, who nodded. The soldier pulled the flap of the tarp, and the both of them hopped inside. Shervin was hit with a sharp scent of herbs and earth, like the inside of the cart had rolled around in the woods. A sudden deja-vu.
A hooded stranger sat inside the cart. Shervin and Naira sat opposite the stranger. The cart began moving. Shervin was gripped by a sense of unease looking at the stranger. Under the hood, only his white, stubbled chin was visible. He seemed to be sleeping, unbothered by their presence.
As the cart rolled along, Shervin's arm began to itch. He tried to rub it off, but the tingle that had started a while ago was now back. He began scratching his arm, aggressively.
"What are you doing?" Naira asked.
"My skin is prickling, like it's on fire," said Shervin.
The cart lurched. The slight tremor caused the stranger's hood to lift, revealing a part of his face. His nose was deeply scarred, and his eyes drooped, with violet rings around them. For an eye-blink of a moment, Shervin forgot about the itch, as the gruesome features of the stranger burned in his brain.
Another tremor followed. The cart jerked. Shervin was thrown to his left, and Naira was pushed against him. He tried to reach for the fabric of the tarp, but it didn't give purchase, and his hand slipped. The stranger, though, looked unperturbed.
"Just potholes," whispered Shervin, rebalancing himself.
"Well, my father will hear about it," said Naira.
But then, their eyes were blinded by a brilliant white light. A bang followed and both of them were thrown face forward. The stranger moved swiftly to his left in a blur.
Then, too many things happened at once. The horse gave out an anguished neigh, and the cart tumbled over. Shervin and Naira were thrown outside, and fell on the road in a tangle of limbs. Of the corner of his eye Shervin saw the cart go up in flames.
The soldier of the White Guard was lying on the ground, dead, beside the horse.
But who killed him? What was it that had attacked them so violently?
Shervin got his answer the next moment. Over the edge of the tumbled cart, he saw a black, winged figure rising out of the flames. It grew in size, developing a grotesque, extended mouth, barbed wings, and a knife-edged tail.
And it burned.
"That... that is a Void Demon..." said Naira, gripping Shervin's arm.
"Was the stranger in our cart... was he the...?" Shervin tried to mouth words, as the Void Demon hunkered towards them. It opened its mouth, revealing an entire universe inside it.
The Mad Void.
Shervin felt a pull.
Not only a pull. A calling.
He felt happiness. An all consuming joy gripped him from head to toe. And he wanted to be devoured by the Void.
But as suddenly as the sensation had come, it stopped. Shervin snapped back to reality as the hooded figure jumped between them and the Void Demon, shielding them. The Void Demon got angry, and brought down its sharp tail upon the stranger.
The stranger annihilated the tail with a flick of his hand. This annoyed the Demon, but it didn't stop. Instead, he regrew its tail.
"What the hell?" Shervin blurted, as he staggered to his feet. He pulled Naira up.
The figure spread his arms and a bolt of lightning sped out from his chest. The bolt hit the demon squarely on its face, throwing it fifteen feet away.
The figure turned around. He removed his hood.
"Shervin, run," said Arlin, his father, in a cold whisper.