Even before the bow fully materialised, Altha felt it—cold and metallic against his fingertips, smooth along its contours, with an industrial sleekness that contradicted its arcane origins.
When he laid eyes on it, he was struck by its elegance. The bow resembled a compound design, forged from a deep black alloy that composed the main frame. A secondary network of pulleys and cables—crafted from a pale, luminous metal—intertwined with a solitary dark blue cam, giving the weapon an almost otherworldly precision.
It was far more technologically advanced than anything he had anticipated.
"Oohhh, wow…" he murmured, momentarily awestruck.
Examining it further, he searched for the telltale runes or inscriptions that typically marked Remembrances—some arcane script to rationalise its properties—but found none.
"Perhaps the material itself is the source," he mused aloud, furrowing his brow. "But how does a dragon—no, a Wyrm—wield a bow like this? It's clearly designed for a humanoid grip, not a serpentine physiology."
A hypothesis emerged: perhaps Pandora had taken it from a fallen Existial. But that, too, seemed unlikely. The weapon's attributes resonated too closely with the Wyrm's known capabilities to be coincidental, plus there was the Remembrance's description.
He wondered what secrets the elusive Wyrm may hold. Curious, Altha probed further, reaching for the string, and the moment his fingers made contact, a thin stream of Psyche drained from him. Alarmed, he recoiled instinctively and tilted his head, intrigued.
---
Leaving the library, he stepped into the quiet, chambered vestibule beyond.
With measured breath, he analysed the bow once more, then deliberately set his hand upon the string.
The effect was immediate. A siphon of Psyche bled from his reserves. In its place, an arrow began to materialise—its form composed of a strange, shimmering blue metal unlike any substance he recognised.
By the time the arrow was fully formed, he felt a profound ache settling behind his eyes, his thoughts humming with static.
He released the string—and yet, the arrow remained suspended, locked in midair as if embedded in an invisible notch in space itself.
Altha raised an eyebrow. He grasped the arrow, intent on releasing the bow entirely, but a subtle resistance met his hand. Not adhesive, not magnetic, but something subtler—gravitational, perhaps, or his own mind not wanting to let go... who knows?
With effort, he pried his fingers away. But rather than falling, the bow began to orbit him slowly, like a moon drawn to the pull of an unseen celestial body.
As it did, Psyche drained from him, not to a degree that would really matter, but then again things do add up.
Grasping the arrow where it hovered in midair, Altha examined its metallic tip and shaft with keen scrutiny. The fletching, though clearly metallic in appearance, responded to his touch with the delicate pliancy of a feather, bending subtly beneath his fingers.
The material defied easy categorisation. Drawing the arrow closer for inspection, he noticed the blue hue of the shaft intensify. Yet as he extended his arms to view it from a broader perspective, the colouration subtly shifted—its surface now tinged with a faint, almost imperceptible violet.
Intrigued by this visual anomaly, Altha released the arrow and allowed it to remain suspended.
As he retreated a few steps, he observed the colour shift again—this time from deep blue to a striking red. The transition recalled the principle of red-blue shifting: the relativistic change in light frequency dependent on the motion of the source and observer.
"Interesting... Still, the question remains: is this phenomenon the result of an enchantment imbued into the weapon, or an innate property of the ore used in its forging?"
Glancing at his silver-toned bracer, he asked, "Niobe?"
> (Yes, wearer Altha.)
"Sorry to trouble you so soon, but you mentioned something about sample analysis earlier. Could you identify that for me?" He gestured toward the floating arrow.
> (It is welcome, wearer Altha. No need for apologies.)
There was a moment of silence. Then, portions of the bracer began to liquefy, detaching from his arm in viscous droplets of silvery metal. These coalesced midair before morphing into arachnid-like automatons—miniature, metallic spiders that landed on the floor and scurried toward the suspended arrow.
With most of its material now deployed, the bracer had shrunk considerably, barely encircling his wrist. What remained had reconfigured itself into a delicate, chain-like band—its interwoven links slackening slightly like an oversized bracelet.
> (Sample analysis in progress.)
> (Estimated time to completion: 2.5 minutes.)
Altha rotated his wrist, observing how the chain responded to the motion—it was flexible, adaptive, and natural in its movements, indistinguishable from a fine piece of jewellery.
(Would you like the bow to be analysed as well?) Niobe inquired.
"Uh... yes, please."
> (Processing request...)
> (Updated estimated time to completion: 5 minutes.)
> (Is there anything else, wearer Altha?)
Altha gave a small shake of his head. "No… uh, thank you."
> (You are welcome, wearer Altha. You will be notified upon completion of the requested analysis.)
He gave a simple nod in acknowledgement.
Summoning the Spire Menu once more, Altha navigated to the section labelled Inner-Existial/s.
> [Inner-Existial/s]
• Emberborn Leviathan
"The creature I-we felled..."
He focused his attention on the name. At his intent, the entry expanded with a faint shimmer.
> [Emberborn Leviathan]
Name: Esterkhaal
Dream Name: Return to Ash
Classification: Inner-Existential
Type: Demonic
Form/s: Draconic Ashanai
Core Aspects: Ash, Smoke, Fyr
Existence Sequence: 3
Existence Rank: Awakened
Existence Tier: 2
Resonance Relation: Neutral
Description: The birth of stars leads to the inevitable death of them, the cold fire that licks at the hearts of all Ashanai. Born from the Ashen Pyre's cycle of Null, this avian menace fought all its days, never knowing peace.
Hunger quivered always at the ready, and so it ate and ate and ate, but its gluttony would only serve it so far. Its rampage was eventually halted by an injured Wyrm—one of the Many of Calliope—before meeting its end at the hands of an unexpected challenger: Altha Noctorin Valkyriel.
Aspect Traits:
Active Traits
• Smoke-Crawl: The creature can partially manifest as smoke, and fyr.
• Star-Feathers: The creature's feathers can ignite into Fyr, and emit smoke.
• Frenzied-Scarlet: The creature can heat its skeleton adopting a more scarlet colouration.
• Flare‐Echo: A disorienting cry that rattles local Ether currents, causing small rifts to waver unpredictably.
Passive Traits
• Null-Constitution: The creature has high resistance to Fyr and Fire-based attacks. The creature has medium resistance.
---
Altha lingered on the words, his gaze fixed, mind caught between awe and calculation. The idea of summoning the beast gnawed at him. Doubt curled beneath his thoughts like smoke behind glass—would it obey, or would it retaliate? Was the chamber even capable of containing such a being?
He glanced around the space, mentally tracing the dimensions. After a breath drawn through tightened resolve, he exhaled and narrowed his focus.
With an imperceptible shift, reality fractured—hairline cracks shimmering into being across the chamber like faults in the veil of the world. And from it, an avian creature with a serpentine head formed.
The Emberborn Leviathan was towering, like a serpentine chimaera of ash, divine plumage, and infernal flame. Its body coiled in an almost draconic spiral, feathered with massive wings reminiscent of fallen seraphs—one on each side of its head and two on its back.
Their colouring was almost cruel in beauty—snow-white plumage streaked with veins of cinder and blood, like sanctity desecrated by war.
Its head, narrow and reptilian, bore multiple sets of layered, red jaws, each lined with jagged, interlocking fangs, designed not merely to tear flesh but to crush metal and bone alike. Crowning the skull was an orb like a miniature sun, burning with a dull, malignant glow—a sphere of ember and void wreathed in thick coils of black smoke. The object pulsed with the slow rhythm of a dying star.
Obsidian scales plated its chest and upper limbs, catching the chamber's dim light in glints of volcanic glass. It gave the impression of something both ancient and freshly birthed from catastrophe—evolution's rage made manifest.