LIROIDS: SNAKE

Ashes of Meris

The plain of Meris lay in ruin. What had once been fields of wheat and pasture was now blackened earth, scarred by flame, shadow, and light alike. The air reeked of blood and smoke, and bodies lay scattered across the ground, some still clutching torches, others curled in shadow’s embrace, all silent now.

Snake moved among them like a phantom. His serpents slithered ahead, tasting the air, curling over corpses. His daggers were chipped and dulled, his cloak torn, but his steps carried the same silent precision as before. His eyes, though, were darker, heavier.

Dragon sat upon a broken cart nearby, his blade planted in the ground, his chest heaving. Burns streaked his skin, and his fiery hair clung damp with sweat and blood. Yet his grin was still there, faint but defiant.

“They did not kill us,” he muttered, wiping blood from his mouth. “That means we won.”

Snake glanced at him. “We did not kill him either.”

Dragon’s grin faltered. He knew who Snake meant.

The crusader king had not fallen. Even as shadows closed in and fire raged, he had stood, his golden blade blazing with holy light, his faith unbroken. He had driven them back, wounded them, scarred them. Snake still felt the sting of light across his arm where a strike had grazed him.

Dragon spat into the ash. “He is mortal. He will bleed in time.”

Snake said nothing. His serpents hissed as if in argument.

Far across the field, the crusader king limped among his men. His golden armor was cracked, his blade dimmer than before, but his presence still burned like the sun. His soldiers gathered around him, some wounded, some clutching broken weapons, their eyes fixed on their leader.

“They struck hard,” one general said. “We lost too many. Priests, soldiers, even the torches…” His voice faltered. “Some say the fire is weaker now.”

The king lifted his blade, its edge glimmering faintly in the dawn. “The fire does not weaken. It burns in us all. Did you not see how we stood? Two of their greatest came against us, Snake and Dragon, shadows and flame, and still we live. Still, we fight.”

The men murmured, some with pride, others with doubt. The king saw it in their eyes. Faith wavered even as they cheered.

When night fell, he prayed before the altar fire alone. His voice was steady, but his heart trembled. “Tan of Tan… if you hear me, grant me strength. If you do not… then tell me why I still fight.”

The flame flickered but did not answer.

In Doomsany, Queen Dark reclined upon her throne, her iron crown whispering with voices only she could hear. Scream stood veiled at her side, her silence more terrible than any shout.

“The plain burns,” a messenger reported. “Both armies shattered, neither king nor assassin slain. The land lies in ruin.”

Dark’s smile curved like a blade. “Then the game continues. And in games, those who endure win.”

Scream’s voice rasped through her veil. “Endurance is nothing without strategy. Faith grows brighter in fire. The king must fall before his people crown him immortal.”

Dark leaned forward, her eyes glinting. “Then my brothers will finish what they began. The crown will fall, and with it, Tan’s false fire.”

Snake and Dragon camped on the edge of the plain. Snake tended his blades, sharpening them on a whetstone, his movements slow but precise. Dragon lay sprawled on the ground, staring at the stars, his burns bandaged crudely.

“Do you think of them?” Dragon asked suddenly.

Snake’s hand paused.

“Your wife. Your son. Do you think of them while you kill?”

Snake’s voice was low, almost lost to the crackle of the fire. “Always.”

Dragon chuckled, though it lacked humor. “I think of mine too. Passion, who prays in temples, she should fear. Flame, who sets fire to what he cannot keep. Fury, who whispers lies sweeter than honey. They are my legacy, Snake. And they terrify me more than any crusader king.”

Snake finally looked at him. “We are cursed.”

Dragon grinned, teeth sharp in the firelight. “Then let us curse the world with us.”

In Kindraloy, Trina woke to find Shiver’s bed in disarray. The boy sat on the floor, his eyes wide, his arm glowing with the Tar mark. The wooden toy serpent he had once loved now lay in ashes at his feet.

“I dreamed of fire,” he whispered. “And it burned me.”

Trina gathered him into her arms, tears streaking her face. “No, my son. It is only a dream.”

But she knew better. Dreams carried truth in the blood of Liroids.

Far away, Flame stood atop the battlements of Doomsany, watching the smoke from Meris rise on the horizon. His young eyes gleamed, and he whispered to himself, “Soon.”

Fury sat in the shadows of the court, her small hands folded neatly, her words soft as silk as she whispered into the ears of courtiers. They nodded, smiled, and obeyed. She smiled in turn, her eyes glimmering with something older than her years.

Passion, meanwhile, knelt in a temple of Tan, her hands folded in prayer. Her lips whispered words not to Evilside, but to the god her father was sworn to kill. Tears slid down her cheeks as she prayed for both light and shadow.

Glass sat before her shattered crystals, her hands bleeding from trying to piece them back together. Visions cut her eyes like shards. She saw Snake clutching Shiver as the boy screamed, his mark blazing. She saw Dragon watching Flame ignite cities, Fury crowning herself in whispers, Passion turning away forever. She saw Queen Dark upon a throne of bones, Scream unwrapped to reveal horror, the crusader king ablaze with fire not his own.

Her voice broke as she whispered, “Every shadow carries its end.”

The crusader king rallied his men again, but his voice cracked where once it roared. Snake and Dragon moved in the shadows, planning their next strike. Queen Dark sharpened her knives of politics, Scream whispered of terror, Glass drowned in visions, and the children stirred, each carrying pieces of the curse forward.

The plain of Meris was ash, but the war was only beginning.

And in Cellok, deep in the black roots of the tree, Evilside whispered, her voice like a thousand knives against stone: “The fire will falter. The crown will fall. All light must drown in shadow.”