Maelia's Embrace

Another short story that takes place within the "Light of Death SAGA". Here we meet Pixis, a leader of the Veiled Society, as well as Ceizur, the Martial Dominion Military Governor.

Eternal Embrace, the destiny of all those who would fall from the land of the living to the land of the dead, forever destined to be embraced, led, and controlled by Mealia’s embrace, the Goddess of Death.

Pixis knew that it was only a matter of time before he’d join the Goddess of Death. Such a prospect intrigued him, yet brought fear to his heart. He had spent years building a loyal, devoted community that worshipped her, and yet he feared what she might have in store for him once his soul was hers.

He stood tall in his dark red robes, bald, slender, his hands behind his back, staring at the parchment before him. It bore troubling news�"rivals scaring away new converts, undermining his efforts, and making their cause look weak. The Martial Dominion, with its brute force and zealotry, was making it increasingly difficult to operate.

Though composed on the outside, Pixis’ thoughts raced. Their cause was righteous. Their devotion unwavering. And yet their numbers, their strength, paled in comparison to the machine of war marching against them.

Lythan entered. Ragged, hunched, robed in the same deep red as Pixis, but oozing with chaotic energy. A sorcerer of undeniable power and questionable ethics. Where Pixis saw strategy and reverence, Lythan saw pain and pleasure.

Pixis didn’t turn. “What do you require, Lythan?” he asked, voice calm but laced with tension.

Lythan’s rasp cut the silence. “Ever so cold, Pixis.” He smirked as he approached, glancing at the parchment. “Ah. So the Governor has begun his raids.”

“Indeed,” Pixis replied. “Too many hideouts have fallen. There are traitors among us.”

Lythan chuckled darkly. “Then let me find them.” He grinned, teeth yellow and incomplete. “You know how I enjoy... interrogations.”

Pixis clenched his fists, hands still behind his back. “The greater concern is how we stop the Dominion.”

Lythan rolled his eyes. “You meditate while I act.”

“And yet you are still here,” Pixis said flatly.

The sorcerer laughed as he left. Pixis exhaled and retreated to his chambers.

There, in the solitude of stone walls and humble furnishings, Pixis sat. He crossed his legs on a ritual mat and closed his eyes, beginning the transcendence ritual.

His spirit left his body, pulled toward a dark energy near the heart of the Martial Dominion’s capital. It shouldn’t have been there. Yet it was. A beacon of death in a city of life.

He approached.

He touched it.

And was pulled in.

Cold.

He felt cold.

He stood in Maelia’s realm�"black earth, blank-faced souls, wandering wraiths. Endless. Waiting. Silent.

And there she was.

Maelia. Pale. Beautiful. Ageless. Draped only in shadows and hair, her crossed legs and turned gaze still.

Pixis fell to his knees. “Goddess Maelia,” he whispered. “I am your servant.”

She looked at him.

And he heard her.

Not words. Essence. Command. Emotion.

He wept. He praised. He swore.

And he returned.

Back in his body, Pixis gasped, drenched in sweat. His grin widened.

The Martial Dominion would be destroyed. For Maelia’s prison lay beneath their capital. And he would see her freed.

---

In Aelios, capital of the Martial Dominion, Weapon Master Xandiv watched as Governor Ceizur trained with a stone maul. The massive weapon strained even Ceizur’s strength, but he wielded it with skill.

Xandiv nodded. “Your form improves.”

Ceizur grinned through the sweat. “I can see why Titus likes blunt weapons. There’s a satisfaction to them.”

Xandiv smirked. “He finds joy in blood. You find discipline. Stick with the greatsword, sir.”

Ceizur nodded and ended the session.

In the command room, they reviewed maps and intel. “The Rangers believe we found their base,” Ceizur said. “But there are too many signs it’s a decoy.”

Xandiv agreed. “They’ve had time. They may be luring us in.”

Ceizur pointed to the Arcane Republic. “More cult activity there than here. Yet the Archmage denies involvement.”

“Then it’s negligence.”

They were interrupted by a messenger.

“Sir,” he said, bowing, “Arcane Republic mages are distributing necromantic artifacts in the Trade District.”

They acted swiftly.

The Trade District’s streets were winding and industrial. As Ceizur approached, nobles bowed. Workers avoided his gaze.

At the site, General Tiberious was already confronting the supposed merchants. Robed men, grinning, polite.

“We only wish to share Maelia’s blessings,” they said.

Ceizur bristled. “Worship of the Death Goddess is illegal. Do you insult us?”

They bowed. “Death is natural. We offer communion.”

“Arrest them,” Ceizur ordered.

They didn’t resist. That bothered him.

Xandiv returned with a pile of discarded artifacts.

“Strange,” he said. “Why abandon them so close?”

Then came Councilor Cedric Gallantine.

Arrogant. Wealthy. Dangerous.

“Seems you’ve let necromancy into our city,” he sneered.

Ceizur was calm. “The situation is under control.”

Cedric laughed. “You’d better clean this up. It’s costing me money.”

As he walked off, Ceizur turned to Xandiv. “What do the Rangers say?”

“He vanishes often. They suspect teleportation. He may have help.”

“Keep watching him,” Ceizur ordered. “Something’s wrong.”

---

Pixis stood again in his command room. Another piece of the plan was in motion.

Cassian entered. Young. Half-elf. Charismatic. Dangerous.

“Silent Executor,” he bowed. “The pieces are moving. Soon the Dominion will tear itself apart.”

“And the noble you impersonate?”

“No suspicions.”

Pixis nodded, but he was grim. “Maelia is not free. Titavius trapped her. Aeliana laughs at her.”

Cassian frowned. “So the war… it is to free her?”

“Yes. Blood opens the gate. Death feeds her chains. And only when the Angel of Death returns can the chains be broken.”

“Titanius,” Cassian whispered.

Pixis turned to him.

“We must find him. Or all is lost.”