> Ormsaat
>
> Noun
>
> Translation: Ley Line Node
>
> Definition: In the Menschen language, "Ormsaat" refers to the intricate network of magical lines that crisscross the world, connecting nodes of power spread across land, sea, and sky. These ley lines are the conduits of magical energy, maintaining the balance and harmony of the natural world. The control and manipulation of Ormsaat is a rare ability, held by only a few creatures. For the past millennia, this profound mastery has been the hallmark of the Mageschstea dynasty, a lineage renowned for their deep understanding and manipulation of these magical currents.
Fiona's reaction was one of unbridled amusement. She laughed heartily, her hand coming up to cover her smile, her body shaking as she held her belly. Her laughter bordered on the hysterical, each chuckle laced with disbelief. "Oh, dear sister, you've always had the best sense of humour. That is so funny," she managed to say, her words interspersed with fits of laughter, seemingly unable to contain herself.
Turning away from the crowd to regain her composure, Fiona took a moment before facing them again, wiping a tear from her eye with a delicate swipe of her finger. She then addressed Fiorna with a feigned seriousness, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Could you please repeat that, Fiorna? I must have misunderstood. Are you actually challenging me?"
“No, I don’t need to challenge you.”
“You don’t?”
"I don't need to defy you; it's a simple truth," Fiorna responded firmly. "We were both born and trained to rule, side by side. Together! But Fiona, you lack the gift to sustain the people. You know that!"
Fiona's smirk returned, now edged with condescension. "Oh, is that so? And why can't the people farm, hunt, or fish for their own survival? Why should I concern myself with such matters? Why is it all on me? On my gift?"
Fiorna walked slowly to the centre of the auditorium and placed a hand over her mother’s shoulder. “Because you are claiming to be the new Dame, it’s on the vows proclaimed by our name. It is our responsibility!”
She walked closer to her sister without disengaging her gaze, "Fiona, your power, your gift is winter, a realm where life is extinguished, leaving nothing behind."
She turned to face the assembly, her expression grave. "You have all forgotten the reason our ancestors were chosen for the throne. Our bloodline nurtures the flows of land, sea, and sky—Ormsaat. We are responsible for the balance, for the prosperity. What can Winter alone offer you besides violence, isolation, and bare land?"
Fiorna paced around so everyone could see her, and she could see each one in their eyes. "None of you understand what is to come, but I do. I see! And there is nothing that can save us. Unless we act by what is right."
As she approached the cage of the Lamia, her finger extended in a commanding gesture. And with dire urgency, Fiorna addressed the gathered assembly. “Watch, this creature before us is but a harbinger of a much larger threat. They are multiplying rapidly, both in number and might! And there will be only one creature—Eura—not yet born, capable of confronting these creatures without succumbing to their corruption, to their black blood. If we even think of releasing this captive, do not be fooled by appearances. It will show us no mercy. It will feast on us, transforming us into its own twisted likeness with whatever remains of our flesh and bone.”
Her gaze then shifted, hard and unyielding, as she spun to face Fiona. Her finger, now accusatory, pointed squarely at her sister. "You, Fiona! You lack the means to subdue them, just like me. Both of us, we aren’t enough. You cannot bend their will to ally with you. Even before you ascend to the throne, your defeat is already certain.”
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Fiorna's finger, once accusatory, now dropped to her side, and with a sag in her shoulders, she uttered a sombre prophecy.
“Your rule will stretch across forty-four cold winters, and you shall become a Dame. A queen whose very name remains unknown to all creatures of Mir-Grande-Carta and never heard in the Red Sea. Your very identity will fade into obscurity, known only as the Winterqueen by few. Your given name, Fiona Mageschstea, will go unspoken, and your regal title will be unacknowledged. You will become synonymous with Winter itself.”
She made a short pause and proceeded with an almost cracked voice as if she were dictating her own sentence. “You’ll be hated by all creatures of blue, green, stone, and even red blood. You will be the villain as the one who stole the sun and every moon in the sky. Your dominion will be engulfed in unrelenting darkness for twenty-two long winters. And then, amidst all this horrible shadow, she will emerge—Eura—the sun that burns over land, sea, and sky. The true Dame will be born, and regardless of your efforts to break her through torture, isolation, starvation, and despair, she will rise to dethrone you!”
As tears started to cascade down her cheeks, she lamented with a voice tinged with sorrow. "We could have faced this together, Fiona, you and I. I would have helped you. I would have stayed by your side, lending you all my strength. I never wished for the crown; otherwise, I would have claimed it already. Together, we could have readied ourselves for her arrival. To prepare her, to soothe her pain. But you are so unaware of the fury and wrath you seeded in her. I would beg you to show her love, yet I question whether you're even capable of such emotion. And it is such a shame because I do love you. You are part of me. The funny thing about twins is our fates will converge even in death, but here lies the pivotal difference..." Fiorna's gaze locked intensely with Fiona's, mirroring her image as if in a reflective glass. "... I am ready!”
Everything happened too fast.
Fiorna's words were still hanging between her lips, echoing in the air when Fiona, with a terrifying, eerie calmness, conjured a spear of ice in her hand. With a flick of her wrist that nobody expected, a chillingly precise motion, she hurled the spear towards her twin.
The pike, a crystalline embodiment of Fiona's chilling wrath, struck, severing Fiorna's head from her body. The head tumbled gracefully to the ground, rolling for the audience to see and leaving a macabre trail of blue blood that marred the pristine white floor.
A collective gasp rose from the audience, but Veilla found herself frozen, robbed of breath, her heart shattering into a million pieces. There, at her feet, lay her Spring, her little girl, extinguished by the hand of her own sister in a misguided attempt to defend her perceived truth.
Veilla's mind raced, a whirlwind of grief. She saw in Fiona's actions a reflection of her own past choices. In that devastating moment, Veilla understood a harrowing truth: she hadn't raised a monster; instead, a monster had raised another. And now, what about the baby?
Amidst the tumult that erupted following the grim spectacle, the courtroom was plunged into chaos. The stark reality of Fiorna's murder, the impending judgment against Veilla, and the continued frenzy of the caged nightmare, rabidly gnawing at the bars, captured everyone's attention. In this whirlwind of shock and horror, a subtle, almost divine occurrence went unnoticed.
From Fiorna's parted lips, as her head lay motionless on the blood-stained floor, emerged a glowing butterfly. It gleamed with a gentle, otherworldly light, fluttering silently amidst the chaos. Unseen by the grieving, the enraged, and the shocked onlookers, it navigated through the air, moving towards the nearest window. It’s destiny: The Fischerman District.
> In my lectures, a question that frequently arises from my students is about the number of Spirits in existence. My answer remains consistently the same: I simply don't know. It's beyond my capacity to prove whatsoever. The nature of Spirits, especially those that align themselves with a Master, is inherently elusive. Their allegiance is a mystery to me—do they align with the physical body, the intellect, the emotions of the heart, maybe the seed of magic or something else entirely like the essence of a being or the Saatgut? Personally, I don't hold a religious view or believe in a supreme deity. Yet, I find the beliefs of the Green Mother's followers intriguing. They hold that all creatures are reborn into the land, sea, and sky in new forms, like butterflies emerging from a spiritual cocoon, to settle unknown debts. The specifics of these debts remain unclear to me. ——Between Lore and Legacy: The Mystifying Histories of the Menschen Vol. V by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune