Eve and Eden exchanged glances, both enraptured by the wolf’s tale. He continued, his voice filled with the memory of old battles and alliances. “The Sect’s unification was not as peaceful as they wanted the world to believe. As they gained power, they grew ambitious, demanding loyalty and spreading their beliefs across the land. Those who resisted their influence became their enemies. And soon enough, resistance turned to war—the greatest magical war in history.”
Joy felt the weight of the wolf’s words settle heavily within her, imagining the conflict, the clash of powers and ideals as old traditions fought against this monolithic Sect.
“The war was a chaos like none other,” the wolf said, his voice lowering. “Families like mine, the Stormglades, and our allies, the Aureathis, joined forces to protect our unique knowledge, our deep-rooted bonds with the elements. For us, this was more than a war of power—it was a battle to preserve our way of life, our family legacies. The Sect’s push for dominance threatened to erase all diversity in magic, to destroy everything that made each clan and family distinct.”
The wolf looked at Joy, Eden, and Eve, his gaze a reminder of the sacrifices that had shaped the world they now knew. “In the end, a truce was reached, and diplomacy allowed for a fragile peace. The Sect remained, but so did the old families, and with them, the ancient methods that refused to be forgotten.”
The wolf’s tone softened, but the weight of his words lingered. “Over time, those families who preserved their heritage and protected their knowledge grew respected, even revered. They held power beyond what common mages could imagine, drawing strength not only from the Sect’s teachings but from the knowledge of their ancestors.”
“As I mentioned,” the wolf began, his voice now tinged with the resonance of ancient grudges and rivalries, “our world was once dominated by powerful families, each with their unique magic and philosophies. These families were the backbone of magical society, their traditions and bloodlines intertwined with the very essence of their elemental powers. While the Astral Codex Sect sought to unite all mages under a single banner, the ancient families valued their autonomy—each family a sovereign entity, bound by their own code and culture.”
The wolf's massive form loomed over the sisters, his eyes glowing with the faint light of ancient wisdom. The air around them crackled with a quiet intensity, as if the very elements waited in reverence for his words. Joy, Eden, and Eve sat silently, their curiosity palpable.
The wolf’s voice, deep and resonant, carried the weight of centuries. “You ask about the ancient families. Just remember girls, their stories are not just tales of power but of survival, innovation and tradition.”
His gaze turned reflective, his golden eyes seeming to pierce through time itself. “Before the War of Methods, the Astral continent was a tapestry of magic, each thread woven by the unique practices of countless clans and families. Among them, six families rose above the rest, their mastery of elemental magic unparalleled. These families became known as the Ancient Families.”
“First,” the wolf began, “were the Aureathis and the Stormglade families. Before the war, they were separate, each a beacon of elemental mastery. The Aureathis, wielders of light and fire, were known for their brilliance in battle, their magic a radiant force that blinded enemies and scorched the battlefield. They believed in the duality of destruction and creation, using fire to cleanse and light to guide.”
He paused, his tone softening as if recalling a personal memory. “The Stormglade family, my lineage, was the master of thunder, wind, and water. We embraced the tempest, finding harmony in chaos. Our magic was not just an expression of power but a dance with the elements—a deep understanding of their rhythm and flow.”
The wolf’s gaze grew somber. “When the War threatened to consume all, the Aureathis and Stormglade united, setting aside their differences to form a single family. This alliance was not born of convenience but of shared philosophy. Together, they became an unstoppable force, their magic blended into a perfect storm of scorching fire, and the extreme speed of the light elemental magic.”
He continued, “The Nythalore family, by contrast, embodied the mysteries of shadow and poison. They thrived in the unseen, their magic as silent and deadly as the coldest winter night. They were strategists and scholars, their power lying in precision and patience.”
“The Solgrath family,” he said, his voice tinged with respect, “were masters of earth. They stood as immovable as mountains, their strength drawn from the very bones of the continent. Their philosophy was one of resilience and endurance, believing that true power lay in withstanding the vicissitudes of life.”
“The Vaelthorn family,” the wolf said, his tone growing sharper, “were masters of life and death magic. Their practices were controversial, for they wielded the dual-edged blade of life and death. Their understanding of nature’s balance made them healers and destroyers alike, a paradox that few could accept.”
Finally, the wolf spoke of the last two families. “The Thalor family, known for their command over spatial magic, saw the world in dimensions others could not comprehend. They bent space to their will, traversing vast distances in an instant and manipulating reality itself. And the Dryadorn family, keepers of nature’s essence, were the guardians of forests and the life within them. Their magic was a symphony of growth and decay, a reminder that life is ever-changing.”
The wolf’s voice grew heavier as he spoke of the families’ legacy. “The Ancient Families were not merely powerful—they were innovators. Each family preserved their unique philosophies and methods, passing them down through generations. They shaped the Astral continent not just with their magic but with their ideals.”
The wolf’s tone turned mournful. “But power often breeds conflict. The War saw the Ancient Families rise as defenders of tradition, standing against those who sought to impose a singular philosophy on the world. The war tested their unity, their strength, and their resolve. Though the families survived, the scars of that conflict remain etched into their very souls.”
“Listen closely, girls,” he began, his tone somber. “The ancient families were mighty, yes, but even they were not immune to hubris and the dangers lurking in the shadows. Let me tell you about the fall of the Thalor family—a tale of arrogance, vengeance, and unspeakable horror.
The Thalor family, the wolf explained, was once the strongest and most feared among the ancient families. Their strength lay in their unique nature: space magic, a rare affinity even among the rarest of magical affinities. Masters of this elusive art, they were the only ones capable of cultivating its complex and formidable power. Their unparalleled command over spatial manipulation allowed them to bend reality itself, breaking barriers and evading even the swiftest of foes. Such feats cemented their reputation as invincible warriors. Their Patriarch, an extraordinary mage in his own right, further elevated their status. Known for never losing a fight, he famously drew against my wife, heralded as the fastest mage of her era. In another legendary duel, he faced the director of the Astral Codex Sect—a level seven mage and direct disciple of the sect's founding member, an Arcane Ascendant. At the time, the Patriarch was only a level six mage, a rank significantly lower. Despite the vast gap in power, he managed to achieve a draw, an astonishing feat given the near-insurmountable difference between levels beyond the fifth rank, where the divide becomes as vast as heaven and earth. Such victories and unparalleled prowess made the Thalor family a force to be reckoned with, feared and revered in equal measure.
“Their mastery over space magic allowed them to bend reality itself,” the wolf said. “No barrier could contain them, no enemy could outrun them. But such power, unchecked, often leads to arrogance.”
During the Unification War, the Thalor family refused to align themselves with either side. Instead, they sold their services to the highest bidder, using their spatial prowess to act as assassins, transporters, and saboteurs. Their betrayal of both factions earned them many enemies, but they remained confident in their unrivaled abilities.
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“Confidence,” the wolf growled, “is dangerous when it blinds you to the truth. The Thalors thought they were untouchable, but they underestimated the smallest spark of vengeance.”
One fateful day, the Thalor family crossed paths with a mysterious organization. Known publicly as the "Red Lotus Fragrance," this organization operated as a network of elite entertainment establishments. Their courtesans were renowned not for selling their bodies but for their performances in music, intellectual debates, and their connections to scholars, strong mages, influential people, and aristocrats. With establishments scattered across the continent, the Red Lotus Fragrance appeared to be a beacon of culture and refinement.
“But beneath their elegant facade,” the wolf explained, “they were something far more dangerous. They sold information and worked as spies, trading secrets to the highest bidder. Their demands ranged from gold and potions to rare herbs, magical beast parts, and ancient magic scriptures.”
The Thalor family, blinded by their arrogance, accepted a request from the Astral Codex Sect to hunt the Red Lotus Fragrance. Underestimating the power and resilience of this organization, they ruthlessly targeted its members, nearly wiping them out. However, their actions unleashed a force they could not comprehend. Before one of the leaders of the Red Lotus Fragrance fell, she swore a dire oath: her matriarch would avenge them, ensuring the Thalor family paid the ultimate price for their transgressions.
At the time, the Thalors and the sect dismissed her words as the desperate cries of a defeated woman. But two years later, the laughter stopped.
News spread like wildfire: the Thalor family had been destroyed. The wolf’s eyes darkened as he recalled the scene he had witnessed.
“There’s only one word to describe it: nightmarish,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Every member of the Thalor family, from the youngest newborn to the eldest patriarch, was condemned to an endless torment. Their bodies were rendered immortal, incapable of aging or dying, but their blood was drained perpetually, feeding a curse that burned their souls in an eternal flame.
As the words left his mouth, Joy rolled her eyes in irony, her lips moving almost imperceptibly as she muttered to herself, "That’s definitely his style of doing things." Eve caught the faintest part of her sister’s reaction, hearing only the word "psychopath" uttered under Joy’s breath. Eve’s eyes narrowed, and she shot Joy a sidelong glance, her curiosity piqued, but she held her silence, choosing instead to listen to the wolf’s harrowing tale.
The curse was as cruel as it was ingenious.
“They tried everything—suicide, magic, even the help of the greatest curse specialists of their time. Nothing worked. The curse blocked even their unique spatial magic, turning their greatest strength into futility.”
Even more horrifying was the curse’s final cruelty and the most hideous aspect of the curse was its unending cycle.. When their souls were on the verge of dispersing and finding peace, the curse would nourish their souls, ensuring they could never escape. They were trapped, their agony feeding the very magic that tormented them.”
The wolf closed his eyes briefly, as if to push away the memory. “In the end, there was nothing anyone could do. The land where the Thalor once thrived became a place of despair. The only mercy we could offer was to seal it, locking away their cursed existence from the rest of the world.
“That was thousands of years ago, and still, the Thalor remain, their screams echoing in that forsaken land. A grim reminder of what happens when arrogance blinds you to the true strength of your adversaries.”
The wolf paused, his gaze piercing. “Remember this: no matter your background, never act without understanding the true strength of your adversary. The Thalors learned that lesson too late, and they paid the ultimate price.”
The sisters sat in stunned silence, the weight of the wolf’s story sinking in. His tale was not just a history lesson but a warning—a reminder that power, no matter how great, could never shield one from the consequences of arrogance and recklessness.
As the wolf finished recounting his somber tale of the Thalor family, the ruins fell into a heavy silence. The sisters sat motionless, absorbing the weight of the story, until the youngest, Joy, broke the quiet with a voice unusually serious for a child of three.
“Elder Guardian,” she began, her brown golden eyes sharp with focus, “did you ever go to the Red Lotus Fragrance? Could you explain to me how they behaved, their customs, or their culture? Did they have any nicknames or codes within their ranks?”
The Elder Guardian’s sharp eyes flickered with intrigue as he studied Joy. Her question was unexpected—not because it lacked merit, but because of the unlikely source. A child, barely more than a toddler, was delving into complexities that even her older sisters hesitated to approach.
He took a deep breath, the weight of centuries of knowledge pressing on him. “You are full of questions, little one,” he said with a faint smile, though his voice carried a note of curiosity. “Very well, I’ll tell you what I know.”
“The Red Lotus Fragrance was no ordinary organization,” the Elder Guardian began, his tone reflective. “To the untrained eye, it appeared to be a haven of high culture and refined art. Their establishments drew the elite—scholars, mages, nobles, and others of influence. They were known for their unparalleled courtesans, who excelled in three distinct arts, each with its own title in a foreign tongue.”
He paused, as if summoning the words from a distant memory. “They referred to themselves as nǚ wǔzhě, nǚ shīrén, and nǚ lè. The first, nǚ wǔzhě, were dancers, their movements so graceful and profound that watching them was said to bring enlightenment. The second, nǚ shīrén, were poets, masters of words and language, weaving verses that could stir the soul. The third, nǚ lè, were singers whose voices were so divine they could calm a storm or ignite a revolution. Each excelled in their art, and their performances were unparalleled.”
“But that was only the surface,” the wolf said, his tone darkening. “If you knew the secret code, you could access a hidden space within their establishments—a place where their true business was conducted. There, you could meet one of their ‘birds.’ That’s what they called themselves in my time. The birds were the lifeblood of the Red Lotus Fragrance, spies of unparalleled skill. They could be hired to gather information, track individuals, or infiltrate the most secure places.
My wife,” the wolf added, “frequently visited them for information. Their intelligence was always accurate, always precise.”
Eden, the eldest sister, who had been quietly listening, tilted her head thoughtfully. “If they were so powerful and widespread, what happened to them? In our kingdom, I’ve never heard of the Red Lotus Fragrance.”
The wolf’s expression grew grim, and he shook his head slowly. “Their fall was tied to the Astral Codex Sect. Just a year before the truce between the kingdoms, the founding leader of the sect clashed with the true leader of the Red Lotus Fragrance. That battle…” He trailed off, his voice heavy with reverence. “It shook the heavens themselves. The fight left devastation in its wake, and though the leader of the Astral Codex Sect emerged victorious, the cost was steep and though he claimed victory, his body bore the scars of that encounter for the rest of his life.”
The sisters exchanged uneasy glances as the wolf continued. “I remember hearing his words afterward. He spoke of the woman he fought—someone at the seventh level of the magical path. He called her ‘the most beautiful calamity’ and even painted her image, immortalizing her as a reminder of the battle he nearly lost.”
To the wolf’s surprise, Joy chuckled, her laughter ringing through the ruins. “So, he’s here in this continent,” she said, her tone laced with amusement.
The Elder Guardian’s gaze narrowed slightly, his curiosity evident. “What do you mean, young one?” he asked, but Joy merely smiled enigmatically, leaving his question unanswered.
Eden, ever practical, redirected the conversation. “Elder Guardian, how do we leave the Forbidden Land?”
The wolf sighed, his tone turning serious. “There is a magical barrier surrounding this land, one that only opens once a year. The next opening is six months away. To reach the border of the barrier in time, you must travel for at least a week without stopping. It is not an easy journey, even for those prepared.”
Eden’s expression grew resolute, though concern flickered in her eyes. Before she could speak, the Elder Guardian continued, his gaze fixed on her.
“Eden,” he said, his tone firm yet kind, “you possess the same magical affinity as my last disciple. If you wish, I can guide you during the months you must remain here.
Eden’s eyes widened, her surprise quickly replaced by determination. She bowed her head respectfully. “Elder Guardian, it would be my honor to learn under your guidance.”
The Elder Guardian nodded, a faint smile gracing his ancient face. “Then let us begin tomorrow. You will need all the strength and knowledge you can gather for the journey ahead.”
The sisters exchanged determined looks, each preparing themselves for the challenges that lay ahead, the weight of the Elder Guardian’s revelations settling into their hearts.