The redleaf maple trees rained down acorns as the autumn winds rolled through the valley in which the road a man walked on. The autumn winds turned the otherwise fine rains of Daiken into hellish knives which gnawed at his skin. The man held at his chest as he pushed through the storm, panting and having to stop periodically as he did. In the distance he could see his destination. This far north of Korkoro Daiken the land would freeze over in the winter and become nearly impossible to access due to the glaciers which would form in the mountains around it.
He pushed through and made his way towards the lantern which swung in the oppressive winds like a kite in the sky. The light stood out like an illuminated star in the dark knight sky amongst the red maple trees, guiding the man towards his location.
The man put his coat around himself and pressed forwards.
As he arrived at the front of his destination he looked up at the sky. The crimson moon was shining beautifully and bright at this time, it was as if a plate of ruby had been lifted into the sky to act as a mirror. The rays of light which penetrated the thick suffocating clouds were like bloodied arrows shooting towards the ground and coating them within liquid death. The valley was beautiful even if he didn't have a heart for nature.
He turned towards the small cottage. The lantern was embedded into a shrine to the goddess Ju of the Torkei people. The shrine depicted a woman covered in elaborate silks all lifted to warm the sacred flame in the middle. The Torkei people and their gods were often a strange one.
He turned back towards the cottage and its thin walls. The door–like all others in far northern Korkoro Daiken–was sliding and without lock. The people of Daiken didn't steal from a house, they didn't understand the concept of it, especially not from homes where they risked an Arisen haunting them if they were to disrupt its sanctity. However he did not care for the sanctity of the home he was about to enter.
He slid the door open quietly and removed his shoes. He closed the door behind him and breathed in the warm incense that would be bearing within the room across from him. He made no effort to walk through the wooden house quietly. His goal would already undoubtedly know he was coming.
He walked towards the heavily scented prayer room, wood creaking and cracking as he did so. The ability for these wood and paper houses to remain warm and insulated remained a mystery to him, he, like most people, had just come to accept it was the actions of the Arisen which occupied such residences.
He raised his gloved hand up towards the paper door and opened the sliding door. The scent of the incense became several times stronger as he entered and slid the door closed behind him.
He untied the sash around his head and placed it around his neck to ensure it fell down across his chest. Even if he disliked tradition it had served him well enough for half a century for him to continue following it. The sash was white, a representation of his roles as a Raiser within society, a Raiser's role was everything related to the Raising of the next generation of Adhesions.
He removed his overly long sword from his back and placed it down in front of him. The scabbard, as was common with all within his post of life, was intricately designed and adorned with beauty, it was designed to tell the greatest stories of the wielder and was the most prized possession one of his station would often carry.
He sat kneeling towards the shrine of the room and the man which faced towards it. The shrine was a beautiful rendition of the Torkei goddess Alala, with supposedly long golden locks which stretched to every newborn of the Torkei people. The shrine itself was outlined by a semi-circle of scented wax candles and a single bottle of burning incense within the middle.
The man which sat cross legged upon his prayer mat had–much like his Goddess and the rest of his people–golden almost metallic hair. He wore a black sash around his neck, a Tearer. His robes were customary, a plain long black Keela, a front wrapped garment with elbow length sleeves and a rectangular body.
"Sit," the praying man said, not looking towards his intruder. "Do not worry yourself, I am not armed, and even if I was I would not be able to hurt you."
"You are aware of who I am?" the man asked.
"Yes," the praying man said, "you are born of curse blood. I was informed a man by the name of Ayn was sent to track me down and end my life."
That confirmed enough. The man named Ayn stood up and sat cross legged next to the man on a secondary prayer mat. This prayer mat was made of Velathryn, it had a iridescent sheen to it and was softer than even silk.
"Please take care of my wife's Hyphto as you sit upon it," the praying man said, eyes closed and hands clasped together towards the shrine.
"Tell me," the praying man said, "who was it that sent you to kill me?"
"Lord Illin."
"I see, not the man I would've expected to have an assassin sent to kill me."
"I am no assassin," Ayn said.
"Yes, I can see that," the praying man said, "for if you were, then I would've already been dead. You of a nobler profession? What are you a Breaker? A Bringer? A Tainter?"
"A Raiser."
The praying man opened his eyes for the first time but still kept them facing towards the shrine. "So you have Rended?"
"No," Ayn said, "just stolen from my original purpose at a young age."
"I see, you've been made into a thaumaturge."
"An Aspirant," Ayn said, correcting the praying man.
"An Aspirant, is that what you refer to yourselves nowadays?"the man asked. "In my times of sharpness they referred to you in the correct terminology, abominations."
"Tell me, your name and your crime before I kill you."
"Nikin," the man said, lighting a thinner but far taller candle. "The crime in which you would likely be referring to, is when I in my later stages of youth actively promoted the adoption of the god Unuv. I would assume, you yourself are not a man of Gods."
"No."
"As I would've expected of an abomination," Nikin said. "It would not be easy to be baptised twice, one with water and another with poison and flame." He nodded to himself, seeming satisfied with his answer. He ran his hand across his own and the edges of his wife's prayer mat before nodding towards Ayn.
Ayn stood up from the prayer mat and rolled it up before replacing the position of the sword with it. He held the sheathed sword up to his head whispering a prayer towards it before unsheathing the weapon from its elaborate and intricate scabbard.
Of his two swords, this was his Blaron one. Blaron, was a lustrous black iron that shined gray when placed in light. It was light for iron, too light, embedded with the same grit, heart and poisons as Ayn himself. His other sword was made of Star Iron, a traveller had told him it was an alloy of iron and nickel, both reinforcing one another. Although Ayn suspected it was something more as a simple combination of a normal metal shouldn't have the properties that Star Iron contained.
He raised the Blaron sword and with a nod from Illin he slashed it down in a single stroke. The sword ram straight through the man from right shoulder down to left hip, as the man's body split in half its bottom half twisted and contorted in the light for a moment buzzing and splitting between human and inhuman. The skin flashed between a fine tan yellow and an ash grey, while the top half remained completely normal. As the sword left the man's body his eyes flashed yellow before black and then finally burned into crusted ashen balls which fell from his separate upper torso.
Ayn slightly kicked the man's corpse ensuring he was dead before sheathing his sword. You always needed to check if a Debt was dead. He went through the steps to ensure the Debt was dead, he removed its debtsone which acted as its heart before extracting the valuable aeterrain from the Debt's temple. He was simply thankful this Debt wasn't more aggressive, it had obviously collected and completed its goal.
"You kill under my roof!" A voice boomed around him.
The house's Arisen, troublesome as always.
"You're to protect humans, not Debt's."
"He was my owner," the Arisen said. "Yet you killed him."
"Your oppressor," Ayn corrected, "he trapped you in this house like any other Arisen."
"You still murdered him." The Arisen roared, causing the room to shake slightly. "I demand you leave!"
"Very well, I will leave," Ayn said, finishing extracting the aeterrain from the Debt's temple.
Not wanting to upset the thing further Ayn quickly gathered the Hyphto and his swords before slipping on his shoes and leaving the house. He'd done what he'd needed to–he'd killed the Debt and extracted everything valuable from the thing–there was no other reason for him to stay there.
Ayn stuffed the Hyphto into the pack of his waterhound down at the bottom of the valley. The waterhound–more commonly referred to as a Aitsor–was a large lizard like omnivore whose body would usually grow somewhere between six to eight meters or sometimes even up to ten within particularly large animals whose tails would grow just as large. This one was on the smaller side around six and a half meters long with a tail slightly larger at around eight.
"Aelthair, let's go," Ayn said, kicking the hound into movement as he climbed on top of it.