(Planet Ixtal, The Porch Outside Soron’s Return, Chaosbringer’s POV)
*Knock*
*Knock*
Chaosbringer tapped lightly on the old castle door, as he folded his hands behind his back and waited patiently for Soron to answer.
The echo of his knock drifted through the thick air, vanishing into the hollow quiet of the castle beyond.
However, despite the sound carrying loud and clear, the heavy castle doors did not so much as tremble in response, their surface cold and unmoving beneath the faint shimmer of lingering divine energy.
’Did he hear me?’
Chaosbringer wondered, as he stood there for a moment, waiting for footsteps to emerge from the other end, but heard nothing, not a sound.
A bead of sweat slid down his temple as he glanced toward the forest, where the survivors watched from afar, none daring to approach, as they all silently prayed for him to be received.
Another minute passed. Then five. Then fifty.
Still, nothing.
Chaosbringer shifted his weight, his brow twitching slightly.
"Surely he knows I’m here," he muttered under his breath.
"A god surely doesn’t need to hear a knock to know he’s got a visitor".
He said as his eyes flicked toward the sealed door again, half expecting it to open on its own, but it didn’t.
*Sigh*
He exhaled, long and quiet.
"Do I... knock again?" he whispered to himself. "Or would that be seen as rude? What if he’s meditating? What if I interrupt him? What if he’s testing me?"
He rubbed his palms together nervously, glancing down the corridor as if searching for divine guidance that wasn’t coming.
"I can’t just stand here forever either," he reasoned softly, pacing in front of the door. "But if I leave and he opens it after I’m gone, it’ll look like I lost patience. Damn it... why does approaching powerful warriors always feel like walking through a minefield?"
He stopped, staring at the door again.
The silence pressed on him harder now, as he could almost feel Soron’s presence behind it, heavy, suffocating, alive.
He wasn’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying, but he felt like it was a bit of both.
"Alright," he whispered finally, steeling himself as he raised his hand again. "One more knock. Just one. If he doesn’t answer this time, I’ll... I’ll wait. However long it takes."
He concluded, as he took a deep breath and tapped again, gentler this time, almost apologetic, before folding his hands once more and standing straight.
*Knock*
*Knock*
*Creek*
Inside, he could almost swear he heard something move, maybe a faint scrape of a chair, a cough, or perhaps just the creak of old stone shifting in the wind.
But before he could decide which, the sound faded, leaving him alone once again with his uncertainty.
"...I’ll wait," he said quietly to himself, the words half a vow, half a plea.
And so he did, as he stood with the composure of a devout believer, waiting for a God to grace him with his presence.
—-------
Meanwhile, within the castle, Soron had long sensed that someone was waiting outside, but given the frail state of his body, he knew he wasn’t in any condition to receive the guest just yet.
*Knock*
*Knock*
The sound reached him again, gentle but persistent, as his already frayed patience thinned.
He gritted his teeth, a weak growl escaping his throat as another fit of coughing seized him.
*Cough*
*Cough*
*Hack*
He doubled over, one hand pressed against the table, the other clutching his ribs as another mouthful of black blood splattered across the floor.
*Splat*
A coppery stench filled the room instantly, while the walls seemingly echoed the wet, ragged sound of his breathing.
"I can hear you, damn it," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough. "Fucking wait for a few minutes, will ya?"
His hand trembled as he wiped the corner of his mouth, the back of his palm streaked red-black. He could feel his heartbeat slowing, uneven, each thump dragging like a dying drum.
’Not now... I can’t let him see me like this. For the sake of my people I must always look strong and powerful.’
He thought, as he forced himself upright, ignoring the way his vision swayed, or how the edges of the room blurred for a moment before refocusing.
Every bone in his body felt heavy, hollow, as though it might crumble under its own weight at any second.
’I’ll go out once this subsides. Once I look like myself again.’
He decided as he straightened, took a slow breath, and ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back even as sweat beaded across his forehead.
*Snap*
At the sound, the pool of vomited blood on the floor vanished, the stains disappearing as if they had never existed, while the scent of rot got replaced by clean air, and the flickering candlelight steadied.
Another snap, and the vibrant glow returned to his skin, washing away the pale, deathly tone.
The hollows beneath his eyes filled out slightly, the trembling in his fingers ceasing as divine energy coursed through him once again.
By the time he pulled his robe straight and adjusted the clasp across his chest, he almost looked whole again, at least enough to fool anyone who didn’t know better.
"Alright," he said quietly to himself, his voice steady now, calm, almost commanding. "Let’s not keep the guest waiting for too long."
He turned toward the door, his expression unreadable once more.
Each step he took carried the same controlled authority that had once made galaxies tremble, even if behind that composure, his body screamed for rest.
As he reached the threshold, he brushed his sleeve once more, hiding the faintest smear of black beneath the folds of his robe, before letting out a soft breath.
’Just a few minutes of strength,’ he told himself. ’That’s all I need.’
And with that, he pushed open the ancient doors, his face calm and radiant, as though the last few minutes of agony had never happened at all.
"Come in..."
He said, his voice powerful, as he turned with the poise of an Emperor, and led Chaosbringer down the hall towards the tea chamber.