“Imperator.”
The attendant rushed in as quietly as they could, producing an odd gait as he walked forth through the hall. Statues circled the columns and steles hung from the walls, detailing great battles and myths. Every few steps detailed another moment in the history of Cinefra; the history of Falenval Duskfrel.
The battle in which he defended the desert’s independence above the Archon Wall. His loss against the Midnight Crown near the Dead Throne in his early years. The slaughter of Leviathans when his Legions first formed and the teaching of his first disciples. His injuries, his tragedies. His triumphs, a monument to his existence.
Dozens of armour sets stood within the Throne Room and lined the walls with only a few feet in between each of them, yet their bodies stood still without breath. Forever holding their weapons they watched over the hall, interred as its silent protectors. Every set looked as if time bore no mark, their weapons eternally set against their foes.
Yet the strongest sat in the centre. His throne was simple, carved from white marble and littered with specks of gold. Pure. Royal. The Uncrowned Emperor, the First Praetorian, The Blood of Dusk, Berserker and the one known as the Barbarian King, Ink black tattoos covered and followed his veins whilst the image of a black sun laid on his bare chest, forcing the attendant to look away lest his soul be drawn out. Every breath of his filled the room with life whilst anyone who fell under the gaze of his golden eyes felt pressured to kneel. His long hair flowed down his back whilst lightly cascading over his eyes like the veil of night.
Yet the smile on his face was gentle.
Falenval looked up from his papers and watched the attendant kneel mere feet away from his throne. The gentle expression turned wry and a measure of helplessness entered his eyes, yet his voice held firm as it echoed throughout the chambers.
“Lethonius, I’ve told you there is no need to kneel.” He sighed and reached down to grasp the papers within the attendant's hand. Falenval rolled his eyes as he prepared to once again lecture the servant in an attempt to make the man more casual, yet his gaze hardened as it fell upon the words on the parchment.
“How long has this been happening?”
“Two months, Imperator.”
“Why was I not informed?”
“The lines of communication were severed.”
“All of them?”
“The targets all lay within the outer ring of the desert.”
His eyes narrowed, counting the names and memorizing each and every one. 27 towns and cities, all places with little contact in the grand scheme of things, all places just barely big enough to even have a city-guarding formation.
“They were all attacked above and below ground at the same time. Three cities also had their mechanical lifts severed.”
“Attacks from within?”
“Likely.”
A formless pressure filled the room as the Imperator leaned back into his throne. The slow and heavy beat of his heart echoed throughout the hall and Lethonius’ skin slowly turned red, his Aurelius Flame flickering within his chest and threatening to blow out. He silently prayed to the White Snake that he would be safe and sighed in relief when he felt the pressure lift. He looked back up to his ruler with a smile, only for his eyes to widen as the flames of the black sun came to life.
“Push the offense on the walls. Send the Bloodsworn to reinforce the cities.”
Lethonius nodded and took the decree from the Imperator. He felt as if the suits of armor watched him as he left, sweat pouring down his back. His ruler was enraged and he wanted to be nowhere near the room when Dusk fell.
----------------------------------------
The city of the Bastion was filled with life as Ryke, Ofrir and Lycus strolled across the streets. It felt like a mirror of Jekan above yet held its own distinct ego. Instead of sandstone the buildings were all made of a white concrete, the streets paved cobblestone and the people wearing thin and light armors, as if all ready to fight. He noticed the distinct glow of vitality in most if not all passersby, many of which were of the same strength if not stronger than himself.
It amazed him.
A myriad of stalls and entertainment filled the streets of the Forum, whilst its edges were lined with stores. An entire side of the square was taken up by the bathhouse, its walls crafted from a fine jade green mosaic while the columns all seemed to be made of the same ash grey sandstone from above ground. People entered and left in waves, passing over a few Aes to the guard as they did. Many strolled around with beasts at their side or chained to their wrists, whilst many more walked around in groups of three or four; bearing the signature armour of the Stone Lotus Guard or similar things noting their group. He even saw half a dozen men all wearing different types of armour yet all sporting a vibrant blood red stripe along their spines.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“That’s the Stygian Legion.” Ofrir put his hand next to his mouth and whispered, acting as if anyone could even hear them amidst the market square. “See that red stripe?”
“Yeah?” Ryke craned his head to get a better look, vitality coursing through his eyes as they seemingly lit ablaze and his vision grew in quality immensely. The stripe even seemed to sway ever so slightly as it moved along their spine, like a raging serpent.
“It’s said the stripe represents the river that ran through their home city. Legend says it was originally black like the river itself, but the blood they spilled defending their home dyed it red. They lost of course, and Stygia was incorporated into the alliance.”
“Are they just.. Allowed to roam?”
“They became mercenaries, I guess. Vagrants forced to flee. Apparently their leader is fairly strong too. The Dragon of Stygia they call him. Birthed from the black River Styx.” Ofrir grinned, even as Lycus gave him a questioning look. Ryke’s curiosity just grew.
“Was he really?”
“So they say.”
“Ofrir knows all sorts of useless stuff like that. Let’s go.” Lycus stepped between the two and grabbed Ryke’s hand to pull him off through the crowd, leading him to a few different stalls. Each one was filled with different curious trinkets or Runic Materials- a quality most often unknown to the seller. Even if Ryke couldn’t buy them, he still poured his vitality into them to practice analyzing them before putting it back as if nothing happened.
Many stalls even had Vitus Scriptures and Techniques for sale though only revealed a brief description to the buyer beforehand. Very few described condensing a shape of any kind below the Aurelius Flame, with most just being methods to mimic forces of nature to start the cycle like the Endless Tide Scripture used to behave. Unable to resist, he asked a shopkeep why they were different. The reply was not satisfactory.
“They just are.”
Even when the question was asked again and reworded a hundred times, the answer remained the same. His face was practically beet red with his eyes lit aflame by the time he was about to ask the hundred and first time- then he was abruptly pulled away by an immense force. His feet lost their standing and Ryke was practically pulled through the air, his eyes scouring the surroundings to lay eyes on whoever grabbed him with such force. A girl.
Her hair was a viridian colour, her eyes a shade of green even darker. Even her nails seemed to carry the colour, glowing like vitality in his eyes. In fact, the entirety of her seemed to give off a faint iridescence like solidified light. Her grip remained tight, not letting go no matter how hard he tried to pull himself away, she even squeezed harder when he tried- so much so in fact he felt his arm was going to be ripped off, his wrist crushed into paste. He opened his mouth to talk but they were moving so fast it felt like he was choking down air.
His feet settled on the cobblestone street and his senses slowly returned to him. The calm winds blowing across his skin, the bubbling flow of the fountain beside them, the quiet murmurs and talk of various passerby and citizens minding their own business. Yet none of it was familiar to him. Ryke was very, very fucking lost.
“What the hell was that? I was-”
“You can see me.”
“What?”
The girl sped across the stone road and stood right in front of him, her face looking up at him, merely a few inches away from his own. He didn’t like the way her smile felt both mischievous and genuine at the same time, yet he also felt a sense of pity.
“You can see me, which means you’re my friend now. Got it?”
“Can they not see you-”
She giggled and placed a finger on his lips to shut him up, her eyes glancing around his body and then the surroundings in a strange curiosity. Ryke had a conflicting feeling about something but he wasn’t sure what. As if to speak his mind for him, she answered his question.
“Nope, and they can’t see you either! Not while you’re with me at least.”
“But why can’t they see you?”
“Because they can’t.”
“And why can’t they see me?”
“Because I said so.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yes it does.”
“How?”
“Because I said so!”
Ryke sighed, his expression twisting into a wry smile as he watched the girl spin and dart around the tiny little square they found themselves in. She didn’t even explain where he was or how they got there and he had a feeling she wouldn’t be explaining herself anytime soon. Ultimately he could only ask one thing.
“Well, what’s your name then?”
“Cassia!”
And then
"Well, Cassia.. where are my friends?"