Getting up from the altar’s floor, Velvet dusted off her dress, even when she knew that the dust would disappear on its own, its shape having been artificially created with magic. But, it was an old habit, hard to ignore.
“I doubt you want me to call Him in the same space that you are,” At least, she was confident in the Prophet’s words of ‘not allowing dangerous things here’. “So, if you could take me somewhere I can…”
“I’m on it.” The Prophet looked towards the fake sky, speaking to someone else. “Yes, there.” Then, it faced her again. “I can only hope we never see each other again, Velvet.”
“Same here. Unless you have pasties ready for next time. And a reward. Second time will only be thirty percent more expensive. Buddy promotion.”
Letting out a short laugh, the Prophet picked the bowl it had been mixing previously. “Off you go.”
Without giving time for Velvet to respond, a shadow enveloped her, like a cloak pushed by the breeze, blocking all her senses for a second. Instinctively, she lifted her arms to cover her face, even when her previous encounter with the Director’s concealing magic had shown that act to be futile.
When the sensation lifted, she found herself on a field, with short, green grass that reached her knees as far as her eyes could see.
The empty pocket dimension was big, but she could still see some of the grass at the distance that showed part of the fake wall covering the formation. So, like with most pocket dimensions, the space looked bigger than it was.
Velvet started running a check-up, not wanting to try anything before being sure of her state.
Esca, fine.
"Hyde? Frenese?" Sending some thoughts into the now unconcealed mental link, she poked them.
"What happened?" Hyde asked, almost immediately, while Frenese didn't say anything, but Velvet still felt her mind hitting something.
Instead of answering, Velvet packed her memories of what happened and sent them to Hyde. Then, she made a more short and simple version and sent it to Frenese.
She wanted to see if the Devil had something to say about the thing killing Eiren Cardomos.
"I won't say anything for free."
Nevermind. Wasting a wish on that wasn't worthy.
"Not even a clue? You probably took a bite or two out of Dianthus."
"Or more than two." Was the Devil's short and final answer.
"The Prophet, hm." Hyde said. "A rather corrupted one, if not the most corrupted I've ever heard about."
"Think it's because it observed that fate corruption way too much?" Velvet asked.
"Perhaps. Even when it can't die from watching over certain things, that doesn't mean there's no consequences of doing so."
Velvet didn't envy the Prophet's position, just like she didn't envy the Chosen One's.
Yes, one knew any approaching danger, so it never had the chance of getting harmed, imprisoned or killed, while the other possessed an unrivaled, still growing power, matched with being the closest thing possible to indestructibility.
And yet, both of them were chained to their fates, both of those related to saving the world.
Grand destinies, filled with certainties.
Velvet wasn't interested in that. For her, fame didn't mean anything if it didn't have money attached, and money could always be attached without needing fame.
And, as someone with several pursuing mages interested in her or Frenese, the Chosen One's position was that but worse, with probably every single mage after it.
Same as providence. Even someone as knowledge-hungry as herself preferred to be able to act on the things she discovered than simply trying to move others to act a certain way.
The Prophet's job looked awful, as safe as it was. Did it like acting a certain way, or was it all fake, and just a way to make whoever it talked to respond in a certain way? Did it behave the same to everyone? Or was its personality custom-made for each visitor?
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When someone talked to the Prophet, its answers were based on the future, not the present. In some way, the Prophet didn't even converse with her, its mind in a faraway place.
"Do you have any information about fate's corruption?" She asked.
"No, never heard of it."
"Frenese?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing as free or nothing without a petition?"
"Nothing as nothing."
That was annoying. If a being like Frenese didn't know, then the list of who to go to get extra information just got reduced by ninety percent. Maybe more.
Even when Velvet would’ve preferred spending some time learning more things about what she was going to face, it seemed fate had a different opinion, giving her no more options to grab. Even so, it wasn’t the worst case scenario, since she wasn’t going in exactly blind.
So, she stopped talking to her friendly companions, and started flattening a grass area, to set up the bell altar.
She wasn’t prideful enough to try and see if she was allowed to call Lothrigern like a dog, just by shouting His name and waiting for Him to pick her up. Deities liked to feel respected, and Deriliams probably shared that.
Setting up an altar worked to make the division between human and god, mage and invocation clearer.
We are not equals, we do not stand on the same ground.
All mages knew where that line was drawn, with only a few daring to cross it, and fewer surviving doing so.
So, Velvet took off some bells, setting them on the now flat ground.
…
Dianthus fell down, his knees and palms hitting the hard ground.
If this was any other situation, he would mock the posture, but, since it wasn't, he could only grind his teeth and push himself up.
When he did, a warm, wet sensation crept over his chest, slowly dripping down as it got colder. It was blood.
Not his blood, but Alola's. The supervisor assigned to watch over him today.
He didn't even notice the approaching attack, only Alola's thoughts suddenly cutting off, blood being spilled and a shadow taking him away.
Alola's body didn't even have time to hit the floor, nor did Dianthus manage to reach it.
The only thing he managed to take was this blood splatter.
Now, Dianthus was furious. He complained about being supervised all the time, yes, but those mages were just doing their jobs. They didn't follow him as a hobby, but under the Queen's orders.
They weren't even the kind of mages that one could say deserved to get butchered like lambs. At least, Alola wasn't.
And yet, when he did manage to check his kidnapper's thoughts, the only thing that crossed his mind about him were.
"Sinful."
Dianthus lifted one hand, touching the wet spot in his clothes, tainting his gloves red.
Dammit.
Raising his head, he faced the unknown mage, not hiding his face of disgust.
As one of his abilities, Dianthus' could see the "hidden truth". That meant reading thoughts, and seeing the true form of monsters, illusions and the things hidden under them.
Escas’ true forms were one of those things, hidden inside mages bodies, ready to pop out where they become witches.
And the one in front of him was the bloodiest Esca he had ever seen.
It extended everywhere he saw, the red rivers passing him and losing themselves in the distance, a metallic, burnt smell following the trails, appearing as a red mist.
He could barely catch a glimpse of the Esca's appearance under all that blood.
A thin but tall, black cloaked figure, its cloth stained red. It carried a golden scale, the empty plates of which were chained to the ribs and to the heart within.
He didn't recognize that Paradigm.
Blinking, he activated the spell that stopped him from seeing beyond reality, coming face to face with the man, if he could be called that, that brought him here.
A strong, well-built, middle aged body, taller than him, above the two meters mark. Short, dirty blond hair brushed back, and wearing a simple tunic.
What caught his attention the most was his eyes, a penetrating blue. Not as dark as the ones from Charlampians, but colder, like ice.
All in all, he was an imposing presence just with his looks, and, if to those, one added the smell of death within him...
But Dianthus didn't flinch, no. He was the Chosen One dammit. He would confront scarier sights in the future.
"You didn't remain on your knees. Good." The mage said, not making any motion to get closer.
He was referring to the pressure of his own presence. A combination of the blood flowing from his Esca and that Esca’s own level, almost at the peak of magecraft, enough to make almost any mage lower their heads and fall down between spasms, and humans to go insane with paranoia, an irreparable feeling of becoming prey invading their minds.
Even Dianthus felt his hands tremble, before forcefully removing that reaction from his body.
If one removed fear from themselves, then they would fear nothing, if one removed pain, then they would feel nothing.
Adopting an offensive position, he got ready. “Unfortunately for you, not even cutting off my legs will keep me kneeling.”