The Wolf’s Legacy (IV)
It became exceedingly difficult to recall the last dozen human bounties Jian had done after a sharp throbbing migraine and a few hours receiving lashes from an over-eager inquisitor. The justicar of the camp watched the session as he prods into Jian’s memories.
“Do you confess the murders of Initiate Cerath Cravenstone, Savant Juliean Voss, late High Inquisitor Alaric and those from his estate?” The inquisitor repeats himself.
Jian remains silent with eyes shut tightly, fighting the mental probing and slowly losing ground. Another crack and another cry of pain. Chains rattle as blood oozes from his newly opened gashes. He coughs.
“I...confess.”
The justicar folds his arm, “Impressive specimen. It would take a day or two to break a man, but you, despite mental scarrings from mesmers you’ve slain years ago, took four days.”
Jian grunts as his face is grabbed by his chin and forces to look at the bald, pale man with dark eyes with a cruel smile.
“What are you, Omega? What sort of demonic powers do you possess?”
The justicar only receives a spit filled with blood. He withdraws his hand and motions the inquisitor to continue. Jian gives out of guttural cry.
“Fuck! I confessed to the murders!”
“Yes you did, but this is an interrogation, subject Omega. We’ve many questions about your powers and your family.”
“I don’t know,” He pants, cringing from the sharp stings. “I know jack shit of my family!”
“Nothing? Are you certain?” The justicar attempts to prod again into Jian’s memories. “That time in the Mists…”
The man grimaces, “I don’t remember anything from that.” “I know you don’t, but your mind says something else. Those dogs that saved you from death aren’t just random mist wolves. They are your family. When one of your members pass away, their spirit transforms into wolves to guide other lost souls to the Mists.”
“What?”
“However, you are different. Your soul left your body, but it somehow returned. I’ve figured that the original soul of the demon your bloodline worshipped has possessed you.”
Jian’s silence neither denies nor confirms his statement, but he continues.
“Yes, and it’s quite a discovery to learn you’ve descended from a mist entity.”
“And you’ve descended from a bald prick.” He seethingly retorts.
The justicar scowls and yanks Jian’s hair back. Jian looks up into his eyes and feels a sharp pain in the back of his head, simmering down his spine. He felt every nerve in his body on fire, and Jian could only give out of silent scream before slumping against his chains, dazed.
The bald man lets go of Jian, leaving him hanging. As he turns to leave the room, he looks over at the Inquisitor.
“Do not return him to his cell. He’s to stay here for his repentance. Keep him awake even if he tries to sleep.”
“For how long, sir?” “A fortnight.”
“You are aware that it might kill him?”
“It might, but I’m certain it might reveal something extraordinary.”
The justicar is somewhat wrong in his prediction. It took three days when the White Mantle camp erupts into a spectacular blue fury of flames. A creature in the fire takes the shape of a wolfish silhouette as it reaches its claw into the sky and summoning a large, ghostly blue greatsword. The sword impales the center of the camp; the shockwave obliterates everything in its path.
A moment later all is quiet. The blue flames have all been snuffed by the shockwave. The wolf creature simply disappears in a forlorn howl, leaving behind the smoldering ashes of what was left of the camp.
(Concept Art by Arenanet)
