Rearing Demons
Chapter 129: Eilaphor

Chapter 129: Eilaphor

Time passed, and Yur found himself coming back to the same point over and over again.

I am forgetting something. What is it?

The constant reversal, though startling in the beginning, was gradually fading from his memory.

The same scene, the same beginning, the same whipping—the same... everything!

I need to make sure I don’t forget!

Distress was overwhelming him, for he could not recall many things.

It was as if whenever he tried to remember, something blurred his recollections.

There was a curtain in his mind that he couldn’t part; it was too heavy to move, too thick to see through. Yet, he knew there was something on the other side.

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

It was the same shout he had heard hundreds of times. Turning his head, he knew exactly where the whip would land, from where it would come.

He sidestepped slightly—though his movements were slow—barely managing to dodge it.

He fell to the ground and attempted to roll over.

"You little!" A new exclamation, a fresh phrase—finally, something different!

Turning his head, he looked back at the guard. The glare in the guard’s eyes was as fierce as the suns.

Raising his arm once more, the whip descended with horrifying speed, and in its swift strike, a long, deep laceration opened across his stomach.

"Ah!" The pain was acute, yet the blunt impact felt even worse.

Everything in his emaciated stomach was forced out: saliva, vomit, and blood.

"Stop!" A shout echoed from afar, but the cry achieved nothing.

The whip rained down relentlessly, and Yur was gripped by terror.

Like a macabre symphony, the sound of the whip’s lash and the youthful screams melded into a chilling rhythm.

"STOP!" the voice shouted once more, and the guard, distracted by both annoyance and a perverse enjoyment in beating the child, was suddenly tackled to the ground.

"What the—" he mumbled as he tumbled on the ground before rolling down the hill with his frail body clinging on.

It was Sunder—Yur’s father.

"You’re going to kill my son!" Sunder shouted, quickly scrambling to his feet as he seized the whip.

He clenched his fist tightly around the handle and raised it high. "I’ll kill you first!"

With seething anger etched on his face, he lashed the whip down with every ounce of strength his slender frame could muster.

"You lowly slave!" the guard shrieked in fury as the whip crashed onto his chest, ripping through his clothes.

Raising his forearms, he attempted to catch the whip, but the searing pain stung and forced his arms back. In that instant, the whip, driven by powerful momentum, struck his face.

"AH!" the guard screamed as a deep gash tore across his face.

Yet, nothing could stop Sunder.

Even the guards who were rushing over were too distant to intervene.

Over and over, Sunder aimed for the guard’s face. Even when the screams faded and the struggle seemed to pause, he did not relent.

Splashes of red stained his body and face, yet he pressed on.

Relief momentarily flickered across his features.

Yur, struggling to sit up, looked downward, watching his father beat the lifeless body.

Shock and sudden enlightenment played across his face.

So, freedom is possible? Is it possible to fight back?

Suddenly, three guards tackled Sunder to the ground. They pinned him down and beat him until he fainted.

Yur observed it all, yet at the same time, he wasn’t truly watching the scene; his mind was elsewhere, consumed by inner distraction.

That’s right! This is a test!

Memories began to flood his mind slowly.

"They will drag him away, and tomorrow will be the last time I see him."

He remembered that memory; something he thought he had lost, or rather, that he should have forgotten.

A fragment of his mind that he had once sacrificed—a person he had cast aside for the sake of something more powerful—yet here he was, seeing him once again.

Now, what is this test?

Trying to discern what was happening, he rubbed his chin. The pain was gradually subsiding, and even the world around him was beginning to blur.

What is my name? Yur... Yur...

He tried to recall an essential detail, something he felt was crucial, it was on the tip of his tongue.

Yur... Ashkavaal!

In that very moment, like a crashing wave, the world suddenly washed away.

He found himself enveloped in darkness once again.

A True Seeker!

A voice—one familiar, one he had heard before everything went awry—echoed in the void.

"Who are you?" Yur called out. Though he could see nothing, he was certain he was back in his own body; back from the past, or its illusion.

A True Seeker!

It repeated its refrain, and Yur could also discern the faint sound of approaching footsteps.

They were drawing nearer.

His body tensed, bracing for whatever might approach.

A True Seeker!

The voice grew louder.

It drew ever nearer.

Yur waited. The steps were unlike those of a person, they resembled the rhythmic clatter of hooves on the ground.

They were powerful and resonant.

And finally—

"A True Seeker!"

There it was, in front of him.

A being, a creature so magnificent and beautiful that even Yur was taken aback.

Resembling a horse, its fur was pure white like snow, and it exuded a glow that dispelled the darkness.

Its eyes were a striking blue, as bright as jewels. It stood tall, towering over Yur, its head adorned with elegant horns and a singular crown.

"True Seeker," the creature repeated. "I am Eilaphor, Warden of the Forgotten Constellations."

Its voice exuded majesty and power, yet Yur was filled with horror. He could sense its immense power, something beyond mortal comprehension. Akin to Demon Lord Krinli, its might was both terrible and divine.

"As the successor of the Eyes of Lingering Glyphs, you are a seeker, a True Seeker."

"What is that?" Yur hesitated before speaking; he had heard this term many times, yet it continued to confound him.

Eilaphor turned its head, gazing into the blackness. "A True Seeker; a contender for Glythoria. One who is at one with the Glythari, cherished by the beloved." Then, turning to Yur, it declared, "True Seeker; that is the title bestowed upon those who battle for the essence of Glythoria."

"The essence of Glythoria?" Yur asked in bewilderment.

"True Seeker, remain steadfast in your desires. Forget not yourself nor what you are," the being spoke cryptically. "We shall meet again, but for now, having passed the first test of the True Seekers, I shall bestow upon you a gift."

Suddenly, a burst of white light erupted from it, enveloping Yur in its splendour.

He felt a burning sensation across his body, and looking down through the bright light, he saw a star-rune-like tattoo materialize on his skin.

Star-Eclipsed Brand.

He heard a voice whisper the name into his ears.

Yet, the moment the light vanished, Yur disappeared with it, leaving Eilaphor alone in the darkness.

It stared at the spot where Yur had once been, whispering to itself in a voice laced with melancholy, "Only the True Seeker walks willingly into the dead sky and begs it to speak again."