"That's what people do who love you. They put their arms around you and love you when you're not so lovable."
― Deb Caletti
***
The pitter-patter of the cascading downpour seemed akin to the very heavens of Yan-Ahar weeping silently for the looming tragedy about to happen on its grounds.
Rya sat perched atop a tall tree at the very peak of the mountain range, overlooking the surrounding peaks shrouded by rolling clouds and foggy mist. The gentle raindrops harmlessly slid off the slight haze of mana surrounding his body. His body remained unmoved, but his mana was spread out in every direction in faint strings, mainly for recon and info gathering.
Sensing nothing abnormal even after staying at the lookout for several hours, he brought his fist near his face and let the protective haze of mana dissipate. Just as he did so, the raindrops started to moisten his hand in a few seconds.
Without thinking much, he removed all of the haze covering his body; the rain continued to pelt his body and seep through his clothes, and with it came a faint sense of calmness and tranquillity that belied the seriousness of the situation.
For a second, he wasn't the last scion of the Duskblades, or one of the most wanted criminals by the name of Twelfth Seat of Mag-Daha. But just a child who had no home, no one to call family, no lingering connections, but only a driving will that continued to push through any trial or tribulation thrown at him. His mind was blank, devoid of any thoughts or feelings.
He was like the wind that blew without any sense of where it came from and where it would end its journey; the only certainty was that he would continue to move without any rest, any tiredness, till he reached his destination.
The memories of him touching his first sword came to the forefront of his mind in a lazy, almost hypnotic fashion. He remembered being awestruck, seeing the shiny blade twinkling beneath the sunlight. He remembered grabbing the hilt of the sword and feeling an instinctive connection with it, something he had never felt before. That day, he swung that darn blade so many times, he felt sore in his arms, legs and chest for the next week or so.
He remembered the first katas he performed with it, almost being in a trance while dancing with the sword; he remembered the pride-filled look his father had given him, seeing how naturally he absorbed all the techniques of the duskblades. He remembered the scolding his mother had given both him and his dad after they didn't return home for a month due to practising and hunting in the wilds.
He also remembered how his world had turned upside down when he came back to the empire, to find the entirety of his province, his home, being nothing but a crater of molten flames and rubble.
There wasn't a single relative of his who had been spared from the disaster; every Duskblade had been called to the province due to a briefing from the crown, only he wasn't informed due to the ongoing final trial of succession of the Duskblades he had been tasked with.
His father was in the Blade Haze realm then, just shy of ascending to Blade Soul in a couple of years. Alas, his life was cut short in such an abrupt way. He still remembered the last talk he had with his parents before he was sent on the trial.
His father was a jovial but stern man; the vicissitudes of life could be seen clearly from those eyes of his. All the pain, sadness and burdens his father shouldered were masked by that gentle, reassuring and encouraging smile ever-present on his face.
His mother was the picture of calmness, only belied by her temper at truly serious moments for their family, their province. She was the perfect embodiment of a calm but barely contained raging storm waiting to erupt.
In that last moment before departing, his father and mother had hugged him and given him their blessings. He still remembered those words as if he had just heard them yesterday.
***
"Rya, my son, do you know why we named you Rya-al-sar and not Rya Duskblade like our other relatives would have done?"
Hearing his dad's question, he rolled his eyes and spoke childishly as if he had all the answers in the world.
"I know, Dad, you've told me like... forty times by now?"
His mother chuckled lightly and poked his father's stomach slowly..
"Dear, you're still going on about that. He's heard this plenty of times; no need to say it again and again."
His father coughed and grumbled lightly.
"Huh... what do you mean, it's only been like... the fifth time, yeah, definitely the fifth time."
His mother just sighed in exasperation and shook her head with a faint smile.
"I know, Dad, it's because in ancient runic language, it symbolises a leader that guides everyone as dark times draw near."
His father just clicked his tongue in fake disappointment and continued to lecture him.
"Son, it's because the Duskblade family symbolises the last rays of light that fight against the oncoming darkness and adversity. Whereas Rya is the name of a spirit that is believed to guide the fallen and forgotten to their destined sanctuaries. While al-sar means the eternal horizon that never draws to a close, being illuminated even in the darkest hour."
Putting a hand on his shoulder, his father continued.
"Son, you won't just be a Duskblade, you would be their guiding light. Their leader and companion, they would rely on you and count on you, even in the darkest and most difficult hour; your brightness would shine even in the depths of all the wrongs and filth in the world. You will be better than me, your grandfather and even our ancestors. When your comrades, your followers, your family will follow you, your light will illuminate the world for them."
"Names hold power, my son, and they only do so if you yourself put your faith in them. Remember, my boy, the world will push you to the brink, break you and ground you down in the worst of ways, but in the end, it will be you. It would only be the name of Rya-al-sar that would stand with you even if the world tries to oppress you."
"Remember, even if everything else perishes, the name we have given you will remain with you till eternity. Never falter, never bow, never kneel, and most importantly, never yield to anyone and anything."
"Always remember, you are my son, my pride, you are Rya-al-sar. Even if the world tries to bend you, you only need your blade and your own name to conquer the world itself."
Hearing these words, he was still in a daze. No matter how many times he listened to these words, he would always be filled with thankfulness and pride for being born into this family. He wanted to repay the kindness and love they had given him throughout his life.
For the first time, he didn't speak for a while, then he looked at his father's eyes and nodded firmly.
His father's gaze softened, and then he ruffled his hair like he did when he was little.
His mother, to the side, looked at them fondly while having a knowing, warm smile on her countenance. After a while, she spoke up.
"Ahem... okay, Rya, remember to eat and rest properly when you get the time. This is just a reconnaissance mission. Don't jump into dangerous situations, and if you're in trouble, just break your amulet; it can withstand a few law level attacks and can withstand a single soul level attack. We'll deploy the teleportation gates even if you're still in the enemy territory, racial treaties be dammed."
He just chuckled slightly.
"I'll be careful, Mom."
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[A/N]
Uhm... I don't know how I wrote this
Something possessed me?
Anyways, gimme comments people.