Gusts from the waters cooled the men and women kneeling on the rocky shore. The repeated motion of the waves was the only sound engulfing the ears of the many. Before all of those who kneeled was their transcendent lord, Metod and his wife of this deific lake. And below the man – no god – clad in shining steel was the most gallant of Men: Paxus.Metod looked beyond his kneeling followers and watched the ever-still bastion built to his name. Constructed of mighty stone, neat with the finest woods, and ornamented with great banners and gold this stronghold was. Glorious.
“Arise.” Metod commanded. All who kneeled rose with fullest attentions.
Paxus stood. He was well-groomed, strong and statured, wore garments of royal color (maroons and deep violets), and draping behind, soaking from the wet coast, an olive green cloak with a defined gold trimming. As he and Metod looked face-to-face, a tear ran down the man’s face. Paxus casted down his countenance.
Metod continued as the clouds parted in the sky with bright beams of light shining like invaders through a city’s gate. “The Jaws of the Wolf Malrir are closed and the march out of the Fen has taken its final step . . . I have found you a land to remain. However, in legion wickedness slumbers in these realms waiting to be woken. The wolf may be slain, but his teeth still gash into us. Our blood will soak the earth unless we take this world. Take it, by my blessed decree!” Metod drew a sword that glowed as it rang, “With my blade, the worldbearer will be named.”
Metod then kneeled before Paxus holding the hilt of Halosis (as the sword was known by). Metod’s wife bowed and smiled. Her beauty was truly unmatched. Yet, it was Metod’s exhortation that hesitated Paxus to grasp the hilt. Slowly the soon-to-be king reached for his prize. Paxus lifted the holy blade from his savior’s hands. Metod then stood soon after. Halosis shone; and it is said that Paxus even saw the glory of his people through the sword’s mirror-like reflection.
Paxus pivoted his heed from the blade of the worldbearer to Metod’s glorious face again. He choked and could not speak. Paxus’s overwhelming moods dictated his actions.
“I-I . . ."
“Your breath will have more than words to tell, Paxus Worldbearer.” Metod said interferingly -- but with intervention -- as more salty tears rushed down Paxus’s cheeks. The worldbearer’s eyes were red and his nose sniffled.
There was a grieving pause. The skies opened so immensely that Man raised their hands to shield their eyes. The lake came to be as bright as the lit sky. The waves began to cease and the water became unmoving.
“It is our time.” Metod’s beyond-beautiful wife whispered; the Kingdom called.
Man began to say what their passions truly voiced: “Don’t leave! Don’t forget us!” Man whelped.
Paxus only began to cry composedly.
Metod and his wife gently turned and walked on the still waters of the lake into the light. Paxus fell to his knees, dropping the blessed sword. No. The two ascending figures were swallowed by the spirited light. Completely gone. Sanctus was now Man’s.
The clouds reformed and the sea persisted to move. The light faded away. The world returned to normal. And the departure -- which seemed as long as hours – finished. The worldbearer, along with his chosen people, re-grasped their senses and all did drop to roar in woe and weep. The spoken augury had been fulfilled. . . .