Primordial Amity

I stood at the head of our army with the other leaders, my enchanted armor gleaming in the gentle sunlight as we entered Zantas Maladan's valley. The sight before us defied all expectations: no walls of thorns, no barriers of force, no armies of creatures ready to tear us apart. Just endless fields of swaying grass and golden flowers stretching to the horizon.

"This feels wrong," Mulmin muttered beside me, his war axe gripped tight. "Where are the defenses?"

Peace washed over us like waves. The sweet scent of flowers filled my lungs, and memories of home tried to surface, memories of my wife's smile, my sons' laughter. I shook them away.

The first light beings appeared as we crossed a stream. Translucent forms that floated on the breeze, their voices like wind chimes. One drifted close to my ear.

"Your family misses you," it whispered. "Return to them. Let go of this violent path."

I nocked an arrow to my bow. The creature dispersed into motes of light as my shot struck true. More appeared among our ranks, weaving between the soldiers with their honeyed words of home and peace.

"Hold fast!" I called out as I saw some men lowering their weapons. "Remember why we fight! For humanity's future!"

Our archers made quick work of the light beings. But the real battle wasn't against these creatures, it was against the serenity of this place itself. Each step through the idyllic landscape felt like walking through honey, sweet and slow.

Days passed as we marched. Rolling hills covered in wildflowers. Crystal streams that sang with clear waters. Perfect trees that offered shade from the gentle sun. Everything designed to make us stop, rest, forget our purpose.

I watched my men's faces grow softer, their grips on weapons loosening. Even Mulmin had a distant look in his eyes at times. This was Zantas Maladan's true power; not violence, but the absolute peace that could drain the will to fight from even the strongest warrior.

Each night I wrote in my journal, documenting everything I observed about this domain. The way the light played across the flowers. How the breeze always seemed to know exactly where to cool our skin. The perfect temperature, never too hot or cold. Every detail engineered for tranquility.

I touched the starstone blade at my hip, reminding myself of our purpose. We would find Zantas Maladan, no matter how long these peaceful fields stretched before us.

I marked another entry in my journal, counting the innumerous days we'd spent in this cursed valley. Eighty-seven. Eighty-seven days of marching through blissful, picturesque scenery. The peaceful fields stretched endlessly in every direction, a masterwork of tranquil deception. My quill scratched across the page as I documented our latest losses: three more of Queen Ayen's elven scout parties. We had sent them out in all directions to seek out signs of the Primordial. Not a single man had returned.

The flaps of my tent opened and Mulmin entered. The warrior king dropped onto the rugs beside me, passing me his waterskin. "The men grow restless. This place..." He rubbed his eyes. "Sometimes I forget why we're here."

"That's exactly what it wants." I closed my journal. "We must hold fast. Stay strong. Remember our purpose here."

"I know, my friend. Don't worry about me." The large man grinned at me, the scar on his face twisting pleasantly. "We of Kastor are stern warrior stock, after all. We will remember our duty."

Queen Ayen suddenly burst into our tent, her silver hair wild around her face. Her pointed ears twitched, head tilted. "My fellow lieges. Something approaches from the west."

I grabbed my bow while Mulmin hefted his axe. "What do you hear?"

"It's... strange. Like thunder, but continuous. And music?" Her brow furrowed. "We should ride out."

Within minutes, our strongest warriors mounted up. Our war steeds huffed air, eager to finally see battle. Lord Burien, Queen Altanava, the giant Prostas, King Clethu and his golden staff, as well as a dozen others followed as we galloped west across the endless fields of flowers. The sweet scent of peace tried to drag at my mind, but I forced it away, focusing on the horizon.

Then we saw it.

The creature emerged from a golden mist, each step causing ripples of peace to wash across the valley. My hands tightened on my reins as I beheld Zantas Maladan for the first time. The Primordial of Amity towered over us, its massive form both beautiful and grotesque.

At a distance, it looked like a mighty stag the size of a house. Yet there were eyes. Those eyes. Dozens of human eyes nestled within the sprawling, wide-set antlers, each one a different shade: blue, green, amber, violet. They shifted and blinked independently, studying us with an almost childlike wonder. I felt my resolve crack as one particular brown eye fixed upon me, reminding me of my youngest son's gaze.

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"By the ancient powers," Mulmin whispered beside me. His battle-axe lowered slightly.

The creature's hide rippled, grass swaying as if caught in a gentle breeze. Flowers bloomed and withered in rapid succession across its flanks (roses, lilies, daisies) each releasing waves of intoxicating perfume. Its six legs moved with impossible grace for something so massive, barely disturbing the earth beneath.

Queen Ayen swayed in her saddle. "The music... it comes from within it."

She spoke true. A melody drifted from Zantas Maladan's form, like distant harps and flutes playing a lullaby. The sound wrapped around my thoughts, trying to soften my purpose, attempting to make me forget why we had come to this valley of eternal spring.

"No." I gripped my bow tighter, fighting against the peace that threatened to overwhelm me. "This is what it does. It pacifies. It stagnates. Remember why we're here."

The Primordial's faceless head turned toward me. All those eyes blinked in unison. A wave of tranquility crashed against my mind as memories of quiet evenings by the fire, my wife's smile, my children's laughter assaulted me. The perfect contentment of a world without strife or change.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? A world without strife meant a world without growth. Without challenge. Without the very thing that made us human.

The beast took another step forward, flowers bursting into bloom where its hooves touched earth. More of our warriors lowered their weapons, entranced by its otherworldly beauty and the promise of endless peace it offered.

Mulmin's war cry shattered the peaceful spell. His voice held all the fury of the northern mountains, raw and primal. My friend spurred his mount forward, the beast's hooves thundering across flower-strewn grass. Sunlight caught the edge of his starstone axe, casting rainbow fragments across the valley.

His bravery ignited something in my chest. I nocked an arrow to my bow, the starstone tip glowing with an otherworldly light. Around me, the others raised their own starstone weapons: Ayen's knife sharp as steel, Altanava's sword blazing like a fallen star, Prostas's mighty hammer reflecting the sky itself.

We charged as one, our horses' hooves desecrating the perfect meadow. The peaceful melody twisted into discord at our approach, but we pushed through. My throat burned as I added my voice to the battle cry, letting all my hatred for this false tranquility pour forth.

Zantas Maladan remained motionless, accepting our charge with that same serene expression. Its countless eyes watched us approach, some filled with understanding, others with something like pity. The creature's massive form blocked out the sun as we drew near, casting us in its shadow.

Those eyes. Even as we closed the distance, they haunted me. Each one seemed to hold a different memory: my wife's smile, my two sons' first steps, the quiet moments between marching when Mulmin and I would share stories over wine. The Primordial wasn't fighting back. It simply stood there, waiting, while its eyes showed us everything we were about to destroy.

Then, one by one, those eyes began to close. First the blue ones, then the green, amber, and brown. Each closing lid seemed to whisper of opportunities lost, of peace abandoned. The last eye, one of deep violet that somehow held the wisdom of ages, gazed directly into my soul before finally shutting.

The Primordial's lips curved upward into gentle smile, as if forgiving us for what we were about to do. As if it understood why we had to end this perfect, stagnant peace.

We crashed into its flanks like a wave breaking against cliffs. Our starstone weapons raised high, ready to tear down this monument to tranquility, this barrier to humanity's growth. The creature didn't even flinch as we surrounded it.

I swung my blade down, the starstone edge parting flesh that no earthly weapon could touch. The Primordial's hide split open, the invincible flesh sizzling as the blade ripped into it. There was no roar of pain, no thrashing, just that same peaceful acceptance as we hacked it to pieces.

Mulmin's axe severed one of its legs, the limb crashing to the flower-strewn ground. Queen Ayen darted between its remaining legs, her knife finding vital points with surgical precision. Lord Burien's spear pierced its flank again and again, each strike spreading angry red corruption through its pristine flesh.

The melody never stopped. Even as we dismembered it, that haunting song continued. Softer now, like a mother's last lullaby to her child. The sound made my hands shake as I drove my sword deeper.

More legs fell. The massive body swayed, then collapsed with earth-shaking force. Flowers burst from the ground where it fell, a final act of creation even in death. We surrounded the fallen giant, our weapons completely clean as no blood or viscera dripped from its strange body.

The last notes of its song faded away. Silence fell over the valley, broken only by our ragged breathing and the soft patter of tears hitting the ground. I hadn't even realized I was crying until I tasted salt on my lips.

I stared at my sword, at the starstone blade that glinted dully in the peaceful sun. My hands wouldn't stop trembling. We had done it, taken down one of the twelve Primordials. But this didn't feel like victory. This felt like murdering innocence.

I watched as Mirrin approached the fallen Primordial, his boots crushing flowers with each step. The being's chest still rose and fell, though its breath came in short, shallow gasps. The melody had died, but that peaceful smile remained frozen on its face.

King Mirrin of Zaphtos was known throughout Mankind's settlements as a great orator and champion of peace. The Crusade council had unanimously chosen the young King as the one who would inherit the Mantle of Amity, as Zaphtos was famous for being a peaceful and tranquil land. It seemed only right that its king would be the one to hold onto the power of Amity.

Mirrin's shoulders sagged as he stood before Zantas Maladan. His starstone sword hung loose in his grip, the stone surface catching the light in a way that made it seem to weep. The king's face was a mask of anguish as he gazed down at the creature.

"Forgive me," Mirrin whispered. His voice cracked. "But we cannot allow your kind to shape our world any longer."

The sword plunged down. The Primordial's body jerked once, then went still. That gentle smile never wavered, even in death.

A heartbeat passed. Then two. It took our hearts beating five more times before the wave of power hit. The land ceased to be peaceful. All around us, the vibrant scenery faded. The sea of emerald green grass shriveled up and died before our eyes, becoming nothing but black mulch. The flowers vanished, the gentle breezes died. The bright blue sky dimmed, turning a stark gray.

And all throughout the land's transformation, we warriors of the Second Crusade stood still. Our eyes remained on our friend and fellow, Mirrin, as he became engulfed in light. His eyes were wide, the blue irises bright, as he stared off into the distance, seemingly gazing upon some sight that only he could see.

"It's so unbelievably vast…"

Those were his last words as a human being. We all fell back in fright as his body began to change.

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