THERE WAS A WIDE difference between a Tier I and a Tier IV, but Tier IV was not the ceiling by which a Father Darkness could evolve. In reality, a Father Darkness could not marry another as they were both male species in such a category, and they could not bear a Child Darkness. On the other hand, a 'wife,' in this system, was not referring to a human's concept of marriage. They were wedded to fulfill the much more complex idea of evolution.
If a Father Darkness had chosen a wife, it was a necessity for the one who proposed to be the husband, and hence be the superior, to influence the mind of the inferior in order to ascend. There was no law by which they could marry a specific Father Darkness, but they did so during the bonding season to merely weigh who among them had the upper hand. The manner in which it was done was vague, but both Children had an idea.
Athelstan herself learned this in her escapades in the library, though how she could digest so much was something Maze might not be able to uncover. He had learned this while they were on the boat, and thus, he had come to his own conclusion.
What was flummoxing, however, was that there was supposed to be some kind of assessment rubric for the analysis of a Father Darkness's tier. While Athelstan had not indulged specifically in how it worked, she did catch a glimpse of some Dark Entities; among this category was a Father Darkness, excluding the ones mentioned in the directive given to stars among Heirs.
One of them was the Eidolons, who were deemed guardians of certain domains and would only be called Eidolons when they reached Tier IV and had a Father Darkness bond. While these concepts were absolutely haywire, what was necessary was how they would defeat a Father Darkness with a tier not yet called an Eidolon — a Tier III.
Maze was looking at the large stone with cracks ahead and saw a sword pierced in it. It had a black hilt and a silver blade that was shining with the light of the moon, as if calling for an owner, by which was still unknown. Whether it would be some, or one whose name was Maze, even the latter would have to find out.
"You mean, if I try to wrench it out of the stone," he pointed his head toward the pierced sword, "that thing would awaken?" He then pointed at the Father Darkness that was slumbering with its body slithered on a trunk behind the stone.
This green-furred Father Darkness was without tail, horn, feet, or wings. It was long like a snake, had a pair of antennas, two eyes with thick lashes, a heart-shaped nose, and a smiling mouth with sharp top teeth showing. It looked harmless and cute in appearance, but it was furring, as its furs glowed neon green. Athelstan called it 'Catterfire.' It was creating mists unintentionally, as if its body was releasing heat.
"You could think of it as its mechanism." Athelstan glanced at him, as the mists surrounded them. "Like the Father Darkness at the Land of Drought, the Stitched Man, whose trigger was a tremor on the ground, and it would take the opportunity to sneak between the slits and play with a living being. But that one is weak against blades even when it is agile and adaptive. Compared to an Eidolon, which has almost all characteristics and is not easy to defeat, it needs another trigger for it to awaken."
It was like how he awakened it when he got to the land. Why they appeared to have such mechanisms, how they were made like that, or even the question of whether they were an illusion, those were out of the box that Maze could not yet grasp. But it only made sense that its behavior — the one whose awakening would be when the sword was pulled out.
The sword that could defeat the Eidolon of the Swamp.
"While you did tell me the weaknesses of this, how do I know that this is not a trap?" Maze remained slipping between two possibilities, and such was what birthed his reluctance. "If I could not pull the sword out of the stone, then I may not be its owner."
"We are already here. Are you telling me you are chickening out?" Athelstan hideously grinned. "Or do you simply need help?" Then she whispered inaudibly, "But if I did help there could be . . ." And the words after could not be perceived.
Maze looked at the sword once more, and for the first time in this very night, he felt his face be brushed by the wind, with his treacle-black hair being caressed at the same moment. The sword had seemed to speak of him, but what manner it did so, by death or by survival, was either his fate when his attempt would take place. While the mists, it seemed to come from a certain something.
"Is there a name for the sword?" Maze asked, but Athelstan could only sneer; perhaps, even she was unaware if there was such a name for it, nor what exactly this sword was for. "To defeat the Eidolon, that nameless sword must be in my possession," he still had not fully digested it, "and yet, I feel like a fool."
Perhaps, he had gone to the library, even when it was once!
He never knew that the Camp would be like this, a lot to unravel. Appearing as several knots he must untangle, without the help of this woman, he felt he would die naive and a moron, and it would be an irony of a story. Yet, they were given a directive and had more privilege than an Orphan, and that clearly was something that even Maze could not afford.
Athelstan tapped his back. "Are you going to do it, or do you need a push?"
"That would be the third time you would push me to danger." Maze's face nearly crinkled in a grimace. "I will try to pull it." If he were to believe of a god, perhaps the God of Widows would help him now, or the god by which this woman could pray to, the God of Time.
Sadly, both of them were not even responsive, and had not spoken a word for some time.
Before Maze had finally stepped forward.
In a cadence of one, two, then three, with a creak from the left, then to the right, as there seemed to be a dance between a Child and the shrooms his boots trampled on, or simply the fizz, or the snore from the slumbering monster. The stone waited, and waited, while the sword scrutinized his slow, but stern, walk. When he was in front of it, and the sword was within his grasp, he held the hilt, with the monster heaving with a tremble, and he tried to pull. The monster was opening its eyes, first, then second, like a slow flicker, blurring . . . as its head looked at Maze, but Maze fixed his eyes toward the sword, then — crack, break, tremble — the blade colliding with the weakened stone, and the slits had gone too many, and the smiling monster now looking bewildered, without a blink, Maze had pulled the blade from the stone—
CRASH!
Only then did the stone break into pieces, with the sword in his hand, its edge pointed at the soil, and the soil and the grass hissed, and the moon could only give a radiant flicker upon the silver blade, and the Father Monster yawned, and its mouth glowed, and glowed some more. Yet, even before it could emit a spit of fire, Maze had already drifted behind. The Catterfire's body vibrated, and flew into the sky, before his blade had cut the tree, sending it crashing down.
Such power, he pondered, for the sword had an edge that could cut a tree in half.
Before he could continue his awestruck gaze, the Father Darkness spat fire after fire, and soon the soil blackened, then smoldered, then sparked, then bore flame. Maze leaped from one direction to another, evading the onslaught. But as if the fire had a will, it curved, arced, and soon met itself, until he realized he was trapped within a circle of fire.
Athelstan watched with arms crossed, as this Flower-face dashed and ran without falter, while the Catterfire hovered high among the branches, glowing beneath the moon. As the brumal gust passed by, a crow emerged from the shadows of a limb, and Athelstan began to crease her brow. The crow, once singular, multiplied, then many, and soon, she stepped backward, knees trembling. Before she knew it, a murder of crows had gathered in the trees, silent, watching, their eyes fixed on her.
"Tell you what, Flower-face?"
But this Flower-face, who was trapped in a ring of fire, could only glance back as if listening.
"The rest is yours to tread!"
Lips twitching, she could only do one thing.
Run!
Meanwhile, as the fire began to grow and surround Maze, he could only clench his jaws when he heard the woman say that. He did not entirely know why she had to vanish so suddenly, leaving him behind.
But since Maze had known of such weaknesses, he had no way to doubt no more.
This blade would be its end.
When a spit of fire was thrown at him once more, he tried to parry it. Sparks grew from the impact, and the heat burned his hand. With a heave, he drifted upward and shipped a new form behind the Catterfire, swinging his blade. But the Catterfire's body vibrated, dodging his sword before it dove toward the earth. In that very instance, Maze had already wounded himself when the swing failed, and thus drifted in front of the landing Father Darkness. As the ring of fire grew wider and devoured the trees, he slashed his sword. The Catterfire ended up with a final attempt to spit, and when it did, the fire was parried. Truly, the sword was near its head; and so, the head was cut in half, and then its body.
Some green fluid had smeared on Maze's countenance.
Wiping his face, he saw a crow on a branch. Kraa, kraa!
Then he looked at the fire surrounding him, then through the smoke to where Athelstan once stood, and could only sigh in relief.