I seethe in rage and weep tears of unimaginable sorrow as I see my family come to rescue me. My son and daughter, flying over-watch as my wife descends to free me from the arcane bonds that hold me. I attempt to call out, to warn them away but I cannot. I can not speak. I can not move. I can only watch, helplessly as I see those I love fall prey to the hunters. My wife approaches, smiling, her mouth moving but I can not hear her beautiful voice. I commit that smile to my memory, knowing it will be the last time I ever lay eyes upon it. I watch her stop, and whip around to face a sensed threat, but it is for naught. These creatures had found an ancient sidhe weapon, one meant to combat my race, and used it against her. Her blood sprays, hitting me; I taste it apon my lips. As she falls, I see the life leave her eyes and part of me dies with her. At that moment, I did not believe any greater pain could be had.
My son, enraged, dives for the hunters, vile demons that they are. I watch, determined not to dishonor his glory by looking away during his last moments. I watch my son as he bravely is cut down by arcane might. The art, in all of its terrible power. My daughter is close behind him, and suffers the same fate. I watched as the sidhe mage who had summoned the demons began to harvest the wings from my family. I watch, and the old hatred burns within me. This was a young, albiet powerful sidhe. He had no knowledge of the horrors inflicted during that war so long ago. He did not know who I was. He did not know the power of an Icharius when fueled by pure hatred. I let it take me then. The rage engulfing me, and my bonds melting away as I feed off of the pure, unadulterated hate. The sidhe and his demons, so taken up in their sport, do not see me stand.
I channel MY art along with the runic magics of my fathers people and pure energy slams into three of the demons. They die, in an explosion of blood and gore. The remainder of the demons charge me, intent on subduing me as they had done before. I was unaware and unprepared then. I was not now. I grab two of them with my bare hands, channeling the art as I do so, rendering them into ash. I take my time, wanting to savor the kills as I extract my vengeance. The mage begins to cast his art, but it will not avail him. I had fought and killed many of the more powerful ancient sidhe magi during the war, and this boy did not compare. I easily deflected his wards, and shrugged off his art, countering it with my own as I slaughtered his demonic cohort. As the last demon fell, I begin to slowly advance on the sidhe. I revel T the horror in his eyes as I advance. I savor every second as I prepare to eradicate this stain. I cast a slow flame, burning through the sidhe's wards and beginning to slowly roast away his flesh. I drink in his cries of agony as I use the Art to prolong his suffering until his body can hold out no longer, and he collapses, a charred husk.
I feel a surge of the Art to my rear, and see a portal beginning to close as another sidhe carries my family's wings, and source of Icharii magic with him. Throwing a burst of flame after him, I hear him scream in pain as the portal completely closes. The anger dissipates as I know that I cannot catch him. Channeling my art into a portal of my own, I carry my wife and children through it, into the Icharii tower, nestled within the old city of Verthicha. There I inter them in the royal crypt, and finally allowed my sorrow to overcome me. I laid there for days, weeping over the hand fate had dealt me. The disease that had taken my rekindled race, and the hunters that harvested my people to bolster their own power. Laying there in the tomb, I drew my longsword, Pandemonium, and drove it to the hilt through my own heart. With my passing, the Icharii would be no more. As I felt death welcome me into her cold embrace, I smiled, knowing I would be with my family again soon.