Fen and Fior

A mythical story set in a fantasy realm, as if told by a history book. The names of characters and locations are all intended to give a feeling of fantasy immersion.

A hero in his own right, Fen Auster V'toran rose to fame as a sort of vagabond hero. The cities of the world would be graced by his presence, his strength and kind heart lending aid to the people of all nations. Known colloquially as "The Winter Wolf" for his pale skin, silver hair and white drake skin mail, the hero used his body to fight and protect, his mind to educate and expand, and his spirit to contribute to the goals of gods and their servants. With an agnostic approach to his life, he valued all godly figures, good and evil, and the balance they would propose on the realm. When asked about his philosophies, by the late Galum Grimoire, he composed his answers in a humble manner, despite the passive aggression in the scholar Grimoire's tone. "Nature, the gods, all of the world we see. It has been conspired as such by the power of will. There is no fate which deduced a plan for us, nor is there some ultimate force which governs. There are the gods, and the mortals, and together through force, momentum, and unity, the world, and the worlds of others such as us, change for the better, and for the worse, in a cycle. Good times and bad flow as the rivers do, fortune and ill tidings come in volume. In the end, we reach our happy place, for our end is the beginning of something new."

Reaching the age of 27 in good health, the noble crusader was struck. Not by a mortal blow or some physical force of man, but by a beautiful maiden working the general store in Casnor. Naturally by the rule of Alumm, his views on the world were scrutinized, only headed by her, a woman of like minded thinking. Her name was Fior de Ryv'lan. None would ever think a person who could herald from the lands of The Black Flame could be so beautiful, so kind and honest. The adventurer, travelling alone for his whole life, was struck by her, and the two formed a bond. Two years later, they were wed in her home town. She was 23, still finding her place in the world, and he, 29, a famed vagabond with renown throughout the realm. She dropped her life at home and joined him in his travels, and the two continued their kindnesses upon the realm, travelling from city to city in order to spread good fortune where little was found, to bring a better world to Tavernia. Many took notice, some good folk, some ill...

Resting, in the dark of their home upon the steppes of the Valgrad lands, shadowed by the moonless sky, a cry was heard. Fen fired from his bed, Fior no longer with him. He cried to her, and ran to the sounds of screaming. Three men stood over her in the yard...and the rage that touched his heart for the first time in his life burned with a fire even Ennui would shirk from gazing upon. They had beaten her...invaded her...scared her face with knives and filth...and he spilled their blood with mad furor. Why had they done this? Some vengeance, the sick looking to bring them down? But why? They did nothing but good, did they not? Where had he gone wrong? For years following the assault he comforted her, attempting to console her memories of that night. They ceased to travel, and many never heard from the two again. She grew quiet as time passed on, her eyes a pale replication of their past, life loving gaze. By the winter of the fifth year, she had gone silent all together. Upon returning from a hunt one eve, he found her, Fior, for all her pallid beauty and grace, hanging from the ceiling fixture, her scars as fresh as the night they had been administered.

Old folk and text said that the sky cried with him for thirty days and thirty nights, that the evil game of The Null had succeeded in bringing down two saints of their time, and with the funeral procession concluded, the absence of Fen duly noted, the fallen hero was never heard from again. A likeness of him however, was seen often. But his skin was grey and ugly, his hair long and shining like steel, and his armor black as coal. Where he walked, the night followed, and in rural areas it is often said to this day that his figure can be seen gazing at the moon, the phantom of an old man with a ghastly lantern standing over him. Obitus? Over one thousand years of solitude, his spirit walking these lands searching for his Fior. How did he fall? Some say he soon followed suit, ending his life to begin anew as he always said. Others say he continued to live until his death, alone in their home filled with relics of their life together.

In truth, Fen had taken his blade and shield to the halls of the dead, a place of legend south of the Umbral depths, south of the black water of the Naga, deep upon an island uncharted by man, to challenge Obitus, to have him return his love to him. But Obitus spoke to him, "a soul cannot be returned to a shell...a new soul must be given." Forsaking his strength, his beauty and his sanity, he delved deep into the halls to find her soul, unknowingly fulfilling Obitus' prophecy. He crumbled underneath the weight of the darkness, his eyes burning and blood flooding from his eyes. His nails chipped and cracked and his lungs began to burn. Needles pierced his throat as an unquenchable thirst condemned him to anemptying of the soul. There, in those halls, the darkness thinned, and he found himself surrounded by endless fields of ash and snow, ice and cold. His Fior lay on the mesa of ice which lined this pocket dimension's mountainous terrain, and in this rift he saw her. Her face restored, her beauty unhindered. He reached out to her, kissing her one last time before taking her place. He wasted away, a shroud of his former self.

Between the years of 981 ED and 1057 ED, a woman by the name of Serried la Bellas worked as a general store owner within the Sarav lands. Her beauty was the talk of the town, and her kind heart and innocence deterred even the most lecherous men from perverting her. She was often depicted as an angel, and treated as such, Serried reported constant hauntings during her life, from her birth to her old age. A black and grey figure would watch her, through her home's windows and atop her village's mill, during the full moons of the year. But for what reason? Was it her amber hair and oceanic blue eyes? Her pale, thin body and graceful skin? Perhaps it was her beauty that caught the attention of a widowed shade of a man.

Perhaps a soul cannot be returned to the shell...but another given.​

Author's Note

At the moment im more interested in the fundamentals of the story, it's emotional weight, and the effectiveness of lore building. Grammatical errors are just me being mildly lazy, and while they should be mentioned, I hope do not make up a big portion of any reviews. (If this even gets seen. This site is large. D:)

Reviews

[Mila]

Hey!! I really enjoyed this and I'm so glad you're into fantasy (my favorite genre, and I get perky about it...)
Anyways, I would suggest jotting down a better summary for this so as to give us a better idea of what we are about to read. It doesn't even need to give anything away, just a tiny intro would suffice.
That being said, great job, and I can't wait to read more of your work, well done! :)

[Fenrir]

Cheers Mila, and yes I really ought to be a bit more reader friendly in terms of fantasy stuff. Made up terms can get confusing. :p

Cant believe how happy I am to not only get a response from someone, but from a fantasy lover. :D