Chapter 1 - Anankos

Beta'd by A.O. Talmidge.

Silence.

Maddening, festering Silence. A familiar itch.

Minutes, days, years, (betrayed) coalescing into the still form of a titanic stone mask, upright, tilted to the side, embedded in a cracked wall behind a ruined throne.

Alone.

Forgotten.

Betrayed.

Despite dozens, (thousands? millions?) of its (whose? his?) attempts there was no movement, no stirring, no people. The throne room remained desolate, dust and debris strewn haphazardly across the floor. But-

The darkness flashed and the room was alive. Nobles lingered about, some dancing, whilst servants weaved through guests with refreshment. Music so familiar, calming, soothing, agonizing. A light blue-haired figure sat on a resplendent throne. The king, traitor, looked up with calm yellow eyes, gazed directly at him, a smile on his lined face. His mouth opened to speak-

Traitor!

The façade dispersed and the decrepit room shuddered, and it felt the vein of cracks in the stone mask around it expand. Rubble shifted as yet another column fractured, falling prone. Minutes mixed with millennia passed, as the room grew silent once more.

Beautiful, alluring, blessed, cursed Silence.

Hatred.

Loathing.

Betra-

The world shifted.

And for the first time in hours, years (eons?), the Silence paused.

The Silent Dragon, Anankos stirred. There was no movement, but thought processes he had assumed long ago consumed in his single-minded thirst for revenge awoke. For a brief moment, he felt almost…whole?

In an instant, that moment of clarity was ripped from his mind as all but a small portion of sanity left him. He felt something, something amiss, something powerful in the- his world.

The mask blocked out all vision. Perfect darkness. But this had long ago become meaningless. Darkness did not mean there wasn't anything to see.

Anankos unfurled his influence and turned his fractured mind toward his servants. Information flooded into his mind, the largest portion coming from where much of his power was focused: Garon, the fool who had once sought to oppose him. Memories of the decaying state of Nohr, his influence increasing the push for expansion by way of conquest, along with the people he (no, Garon) once called family flashed before him.

This was not what had stirred him. Anger spread across his (no, Garon's) face, confusing those present in the Nohrian throne room. The Silent Dragon quickly dismissed the scene.

Anankos turned his attention closer, toward the dead kingdom that had once spurned him: Valla, his domain now. Orders without words relayed across the ruined domain, and the masses that served him searched anywhere, everywhere for the disturbance.

Information flooded to his mind, but none of it mattered, none of it explained what had happened. As his impatience rose, the scouting parties were quickly given the order to split into single units to hunt faster. Minutes stretched into hours into lifespans (or perhaps, no time at all) as the search continued.

The Silence was once again becoming deafening.

Then at last, something of interest, something unfamiliar, flowed into his mind. One of his servants, a woman of no consequence save she could wield a sword with some finesse, reported a finding. Anankos looked through her mind.

His eyes opened to her view of a field, with a prone figure about three-dozen feet away, sprawled haphazardly across the ground. A quick scan of the figure's exposed scraggly white hair showed him it wasn't the frequent trespasser come to pine for a kingdom that was no longer hers. The tattered black cloak decorated with gold and purple designs was in an unfamiliar style.

The figure, a man if his appearance was any indication, stirred with a groan as Anankos' servant approached at a slow, unconcerned pace, drawing the steel short-sword buckled to her ragged tunic.

Of course, the man saw nothing as the once mercenary approached, (two-dozen feet away now) nigh invisible to any but the most perceptive eye. The cloaked man opened his eyes blearily, and slowly sat up, clutching his forehead.

He abruptly stopped and brought his right hand down to eye level to look at something unseen, muttering something. He looked to his surroundings, gaping, confusion plain on his face. Was this truly the source of the disturbance he felt? Merely another soul fallen into the gate at the Bottomless Canyon? It mattered not. Anankos would know for sure soon enough anyways.

There were no secrets amongst his servants.

A twig snapped under the mercenary's foot, and the man quickly turned to face the general direction of the sound. His eyes glanced around, as he called a tentative, "...Hello?"

At a dozen feet away, the man hastily brought himself up standing, turning this way and that. At six feet, the mercenary prepped her sword for a back stab. Right in range, the man turned, settling his gaze on the mercenary's location. His eyes widened.

Perceptive, but too late. The sword plunged towards the man's heart.

And missed.

With a "Whoa!" the man twisted in what seemed to be a desperate dodge, ending with him falling onto his backside. The mercenary turned the remaining momentum of her stab to jump into a downward jab, but the man rolled himself out of harm's way and pushed himself onto his feet in one motion, though he seemed unsteady. He reached with his right hand into the cloak as if to pull out a weapon, but seemed surprised when he came up with nothing.

The cloaked man began backing away, eyes now scanning the area, not focusing on the mercenary. He must have lost sight of her when he dodged.

"I don't suppose we could talk this over?" he called. The mercenary swung yet again in answer to his question.

The man ducked the swing of the steel, and followed up with a sweeping kick that took the mercenary's legs out from under her. The shared view shifted to the ground as she landed hard. Even with no air to breath the impact stunned the woman enough that she lost the grip on her sword. Sudden pressure on her back followed by cool metal touching the back of his (no, her) neck indicated where the sword had gone. The contact must have broken the invisibility magic, as the man stared right into the mercenary's, and by extension, his, eyes. She struggled under the man's boot on her back, which kept her pinned.

"I'll take that as a 'no,' then."

Anankos felt no fear, nor could the husk of the mercenary part of his power occupied. The man was skilled nonetheless, worth more effort than a single mercenary. Of course, more of Anankos' army was quickly closing in on his position, while others were nearly finished charging magic for teleportation.

"Now then," the man pushed his boot down harder while the sword tip drove in nearly to the point of drawing blood, even if there was no blood to draw. "Who sent you and what do they want with me?" Silence was his answer. Despite how observant his question was, it was foolish to try to question one who would not answer.

A sigh. "Okay then, how about something easier. Where are we? I mean, it's not every day you see an island with a lake suspended in the air above you."

Anankos changed his focus as a report flowed into his mind. His perspective shifted from the ground to an aerial view partially obscured by the bird-like head of a kinshi. At his order, the rider of the giant bird quickly let a volley of arrows loose, flying towards the man, who staggered as one lodged into his left shoulder grunting in pain. He quickly looked up with narrowed eyes in the general trajectory of the barrage, but of course saw nothing.

"Of course her reinforcements are also invisible. Should've seen that coming." The man proceeded to knock the pommel down hard on to the mercenary's head with his good arm, and did what any sane person would do.

Run.

A torrent of arrows from Anankos' Kinshi Knights chased the man through the nearby ruined shrine as he ducked and weaved through the pillars to give himself cover.

Resourceful, perhaps, but ultimately pointless. Once the kinshi were directly overhead, the ruins would provide no cover. The man seemed to realize this as he headed towards a small nearby forest.

Perfect.

As the man reached the edge of the forest, a large force headed by one of Anankos' generals teleported in in front of him. Though the force of his servants were nigh invisible, the man quickly stumbling to a stop proved he had not missed the large surge of magic that accompanied the teleportation.

Anankos ordered a halt on the hail of arrows and shifted his view again, this time to his general, who was at the head of the formation. He saw the man panting slightly and leaning on the stolen sword for support, eyes tired, but calculating. He sported a few more arrows, one protruding through his cloak around his calf. Certainly, he was more resilient than expected; most would be in shock with even one arrow in them.

He could be useful.

Anankos' general phased into plain view on his order, riding forward on her mount, even as the rest of his force advanced to surround the man.

"There is no reason to run anymore," she gestured to herself. "You stand before one of the generals of Anankos, the rightful ruler of Valla."

The man met the shared view of the general's eyes with confusion. "Valla? Anankos? Never heard of them."

She chuckled. "You would be dead if you had." The man's eyes narrowed in confusion, but she continued as Anankos willed it. "But worry not, as for you, this will be a momentous day. You should be honored that the great Anankos has chosen you to become one of his servants."

"And if I say no?"

Had he a working mouth still, Anankos would have smirked. Even so, it must have bled through the link to the general, Arete, as a smirk grew on her face as well. The ghostly light of dark magic appeared around her hand, and the sound of weapons being readied echoed through the gathered army.

"The will of the Silent Dragon is absolute. You have no choice in the matter."

The man looked around, his gaze shifting from soldiers he shouldn't be able to see, to the surrounding landscape and back to Arete, finally seeming to come to a decision. He winced as he stood straight, stumbling slightly because of his injury.

"Very well, you've made your point. I'll come with you." He stuck the stolen sword into the dirt and backed away from it, limping. "I surrender."

Arete frowned. "That's too bad. I was hoping for more of a challenge." The dark magic in her palm quickly grew in intensity before it launched out in an instant at the man. His eyes widened as he made to dodge, but was quickly grabbed hold of by one of the surrounding soldiers.

The magic lanced through the man's heart and he gasped out, presumably in pain. The soldier let go and the man staggered forward into a kneeling position, one hand clutching his chest. Arete dismounted her horse and sauntered up to him.

"W-Why did you…?" the man gasped out.

Arete leaned over to cup his chin, forcing him to look into her, and by extension, Anankos' eyes. "It's nothing more than I said I would do, foolish boy." She smiled almost tenderly as Anankos extended his will from her, seeping in through the contact.

"Do you feel it, the power of the Silent Dragon overtaking you?" Her grip shifted to his neck and tightened. "Even as your body dies, can't you feel his power making you stronger?!"

The man was choking now, his hands uselessly clawing at Arete's iron grip. Violet flames, which radiated off all his servants, slowly began to appear (too soon) around the man. He was nearly dead.

Anankos readied his will to take over the man's mind. The wait stretched out over another eternity.

Finally, in a death rattle, the light left his eyes.

The Silent Dragon dived in eagerly searching for answers, unfurling himself into the man's mind. A layer of memories were taken, tossed aside, torn through, until at last he reached-

What was…?

In an instant, he was rebuked, cast out of the man's mind.

Anankos reeled, but quickly reoriented his consciousness to Arete, who seemed to be retreating, but from what? As Arete turned back, the sight before told him all he needed to know.

The man, who should be dead and under his power, lay on the ground cloaked in dark flames. Shadowy spikes of dark magic littered the surrounding area skewering dozens of his servants, both ground and flying troops. A mark on the man's right hand glowed with sickly light.

In an extension of his anger, the rest of the army swelled forward, but met with the same fate at more spikes of dark magic surged from the ground, serving both to kill those close enough and block off view of the man.

In a frenzy, the remains of his army surged, both with steel and magic, toward the enclosure, which promptly exploded outward. Arete shielded her eyes, and protected herself with a barrier of wind, but those around were not so lucky. No noise erupted from what once were people, but they abruptly fell to the ground, lifeless once again. Anankos could no longer feel his power in them.

In the center of the clearing, dying dark flames littered the ground.

The man was gone.

No.

NO.

Arete staggered as his link with her abruptly cut, but Anankos did not care. As the last vestiges of sanity left, one last order echoed through the minds of his servants.

Find him.

Find him!

FIND HIM!

Castle Gyges shook with its rage, until all was still, and the Silence overtook it once more.

Rage.

Death.

Betrayal.

Silence. Maddening, festering.

Silence.

A/N: Hello and welcome to my madness! Er, story that is. Ever tried writing an insane character with enough power to make it a pseudo omniscient narrative point of view? I certainly hadn't, but that's just how we're going to roll with Anankos in this story.

We're just getting started.