#nikolon

The idea that so many must suffer now so that the countless others in the future will not…

He was almost sold on the idea.

The idea that some must be sacrificed in order to save most.

He is familiar with it, but has never liked it. He didn’t like it when the some was himself and his aspirants, giving up parts of themselves so that they can serve the many. For ages he bore that burden, knowing that what he was doing served the Path and the Purpose.

But when he saw just how many it hurt, it had broken him.

When he had learned about the path the forsworn were destined to take, however, he had felt like it was nothing more than a wicked parallel to the Path.

In order to keep their memories, they were to go to the Maw, sign themselves over to the Jailer.

His first instinct had been to run when he was told of just what the next steps to ‘freedom’ were.

He wasn’t alone. Of the forsworn told, many of them shuddered, their feathers ruffling at the mere idea.

Lysonia told them of freedom to choose, freedom to keep their memories.

But to Nikolon, it didn’t sound like freedom at all.

To be bound to the Jailer…

Lysonia’s wings were translucent in some places, and she wreaked of the Maw, of all that is wrong in all the worlds, compounded into that one, hateful place.

She told them that the only reason they looked down on the Jailer was because of the lies of the Archon. That was easier to swallow, easier to accept. The Archon had made them walk an unjust path since the dawn of time, insisting it was the only way. If she could lie about that, she could lie about anything.

Nikolon still had his reservations, but he went into the Maw willingly, with so many of his brethren, to hear the truths of what had been kept from them, to learn of just how much the Archon had twisted things around.

But when he saw the Maw himself, saw the weeping souls of innocents being tormented by his fellow brethren until they were nothing but anima to be used int the coming fights…

There was no way that anyone who allowed—encouraged—this sort of thing could be anything other than exactly as wicked as the Archon had said.

The Mawsworn were ready for his ‘betrayal’. Nikolon never even had to say a word. It was in his very being, the way he recoiled from what he saw. Before he could think to fly away, to warn those at the Temple of Loyalty that whatever the way forward was, this wasn’t it, they had him subdued.

He fought.

So did others.

A few almost made it out of the Maw to safety, but in the end, none of the forsworn who had descended into the Maw were able to make it out.

He did not see whoever was in charge. He had turned away from this wretched mockery of the Path, and was no longer worth their time, their words.

Their lies.

Instead, Nikolon was bound and made to wait, to watch as his brethren were dragged away to be twisted into the Helsworn, to have a pact with a fallen goddess forced upon them, so that they would serve the Jailer as he needed.

There was no freedom in this.

Even if the mawsworn and Helsworn kept their memories, it would not be worth this.

Nikolon’s own memories are gone, sacrificed eons ago to the Path so that he might better serve. It was not himself that he was fighting for, but the ones who followed in his footsteps.

And he could not see that he wanted them following him here, either.

So the second some proper chaos started, he had broken free.

Not that it had mattered. Captive for as long as he had been, he hadn’t had the strength to fight off the Helsworn who twisted his brethren.

Thank the Archon for the maw walker and the maldraxxi.

Odd how that praise for a being he had turned his back on had still come so naturally to him.

With the help of those indestructible mortals, Nikolon and his fellow forsworn had made it out, to Maldraxxus.

It had been surreal.

To be free from the Helsworn, free from that hellish fate.

It had been tempting to stay there, in Maldraxxus. To rest, to let the edges of his being that had been eroded by the short time he had been in the Maw to heal.

But he couldn’t.

There were so many more at the temple, so many who would be drawn into the Maw after him, to be consumed, willingly or not.

He couldn’t let them fall to that fate.

And so he returned to Bastion.

To this place that he was sure he would never see again.

It is tempting, even now, to settle beneath a tree and rest. To let the waters soothe him, to let the air fill his lungs, and the winds caress his feathers.

He does not know if he deserves to be here anymore. The forsworn have caused damage to all of the temples, desecrated much and killed many.

Perhaps his fate will ultimately be to be thrown back into the Maw by the Archon herself.

Whatever awaits him in the future, he will face that after he has found a way to save those he can at the Temple of Loyalty.

And that begins with going to those who still walk the Path.