It ends today. Their farce of a religion needs to be strangled in its crib before it gains any more ground. Cassius, Belmon, Sennefer. If I have to, I will drag them to the afterlife by their heels. None of them can be left alive. Vengeance for my friends, my brothers, my sisters, my daughter... - Reflections of Lysander of the Lucent

“Under the tutelage of a great and powerful mage, the two lovers met,” Cailen Thaloris’s voice echoed across the field, filling the darkened bubble with his deep resonance. At the same time, the audience gasped as images of translucent white light materialized on the stage.

Two people, both of whom looked about the same age as Talia, stood on the stage. They look too young to be mages. Talia thought to herself. The images of two more young men appeared, and together, they turned to various tasks. The second pair to appear took an interest in spellcraft, alchemy, and artifice while the woman learned about enchantment and rituals. At the same time, the man with Turquoise eyes floundered, looking at each of his companions as if he were lost.

“Snow and her two brothers took a great interest in the arts of magic, and under the guidance of their master, their skills grew.” The images of the three aged, growing from teens to young adults, eventually standing tall in their own right. “But Turquoise struggled; he found his abilities lagging behind his friends.”

The image of Turquoise ran through a rapid sequence of events: reading, writing, failing spells, conducting rituals only to have them fail, destroying lab equipment in his attempts to brew potions, and crafting works of artifice that refused to function. With every failure, the boy’s shoulders would slump, his posture more and more defeated.

“He struggled to find his place, and after enduring failure after failure, he finally found it.” The image of the boy bent to pick up a stick, one that had the proportions of a sword. He swung it, hacking at invisible foes. The image picked up speed, and the boy’s movements became more refined. Talia blinked, and on the stage and made of pure white light, Turquoise danced. His stick had turned into a blade that left an afterimage as it blurred through the air. He was tall, broad, lean, and moved at blinding speed as he danced among invisible foes.

Despite finding his place, Talia noticed that he still stood apart from the other three.

“Having found his place among the four, Turquoise and the others grew closer as they trained. Each a pillar, supporting the others,” said Cailen.

Now, young adults, the group of four, came together; they encircled a tall, faceless man. Talia could only assume that he was their master. The faces of the quartet alight with smiles, each happy to be in the company of the others, each having their place while being among friends.

“But it was not to last,” the sorrow in Cailen’s voice struck Talia like a physical blow. It was only accentuated by the darkening of the sphere that engulfed them. “In time, their master, the man who had taken them in and raised them as his own, passed.”

The image changed to the four huddled around a bed, supporting each other in their grief. Turquoise was holding Snow, her face buried into his chest while her brothers stood, pain and grief striking their faces.

“After the death of their master, the friends drifted apart, each pursuing their individual works,” The four images and the bed dissipated, each figure scattering into a trail of light that twisted and winded off in a different direction. “Despite distance and occupation, Snow and Turquoise found a bond growing between them.”

Multiple images of the two figures spending time with each other played. They walked, worked, played, and finally kissed as they stood under a sky filled with twinkling stars.

“But the peace would not last.” The two brothers returned, showing Turquoise and them arguing. The conflict worsened before one of the brothers struck Turquoise and sent him reeling back. A gap stood between him and the two brothers, and slowly, Turquoise drew his sword.

“Snow, seeking to keep the peace, intervened, trying to calm the men she loved.” Turquoise lowered his sword and approached the group, but they stood tense as if preparing for violence. Then the second brother struck; using a hidden dagger, he stabbed past Snow and struck Turquoise, who was only saved by his quick reflexes. He caught the blade with his open hand. Allowing it to piece through his palm completely but stopping it from striking his neck.

Talia watched; she hadn’t noticed when she’d begun to hold her breath, so enraptured as she was. Turquoise jumped back his sword, springing from its scabbard, and a flickering flame appeared over the hand, with the dagger buried in it.

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“He hesitated, for Snow refused to move.” The figure of Snow stood resolute, her back to her brothers, facing down the man she had loved. Her face had grown hard, and she motioned, demanding he lower his blade. Turquoise refused, his face growing impassive like it was carved from stone, and the brothers struck.

Images of magic flashed towards Turquoise. He struggled to survive as he retreated. “And in the heat of the battle, love gave way to powers might.” Talia gasped as the image of Snow entered the battle, sending spell after spell lashing toward Turquoise. Blow after blow landed, staggering him backward until finally, he cast a spell of his own and vanished.

“Time passed, how much I cannot be sure, but the siblings split again, each returning to the kingdoms they now ruled.” Again, the figures turned to wispy lines of line, and they flew into the sky and circled the stage, casting the bard into varying stages of light and shadow. “Finally, they reunited, each stronger than ever before. They stood as gods among men.” This caused mutterings among the crowd as the three figures materialized again, each bearing more than a passing resemblance to the statues Talia had soon in almost every church she had been in.

He can’t be suggesting… Talia’s thoughts were interrupted as Cailen continued.

“It was then at a gathering of the three siblings that Turquoise struck, seeking vengeance for their betrayal.” A pillar of light lit up the stage, and from it, Turquoise stepped his sword drawn and fury in his wake. There was a moment of pause as the trio of siblings stepped back in surprise, and then he struck.

Turquoise flung himself among his foes, scattering them. Images of spells flashed, slowly growing in power. Parts of a city appeared around the quartet, only to crumble away as the fight grew more furious. Slowly, the images of the combatants grew smaller, and more of their environment became visible. The change in scale continued until the quartet was no longer visible. The only sign of their struggles was the escalating totality of destruction in their wake.

Buildings crumbled, the ground shook, gouts of flame were followed by flashes of lightning, and civilization crumbled around them. The struggle was cataclysmic. Talia gasped when the fighting ceased.

“Turquoise was victorious, but at great cost. Out of the struggle, a cataclysm was hoisted upon humanity, one we still have not recovered from.” The image of a destroyed city and countryside vanished, replaced by Turquoise, cradling Snow in his arms.

“But even in victory, Turquoise found defeat. Despite her betrayal, he found he still loved Snow, and with a final kiss and a heavy heart, he saw his lover depart.”

Turquoise gently kissed Snow’s brow before gently laying her on the ground before surveying the damage around himself. “It was then, after surveying the damage he had wrought with his actions, that he departed, never to be seen again.”

The image of Turquoise scattered, leaving behind the body of Snow lying among the ruins of a broken civilization. It was then that Cailen eased into song. His deep voice, echoing throughout the dome, pulled at something within Talia, and she found herself consumed by the music—The Ballad of Snow and Turquoise.

“The man with turquoise eyes, unseen, vanished into night’s serene,” All too soon, Cailen’s mournful voice trailed off, and silence filled the space. No one moved, not even the bard, so stilled by the magic in his voice they were.

The silence was broken when Cailen bent and bowed, and the spellbound audience erupted into cheers and applause, many leaping from their seats. Talia found herself standing, clapping, and cheering alongside everyone else.

The bubble enveloping a good portion of the green vanished, and bright sunlight and the noise of the surrounding fair rushed in, and still they clapped.

“That was incredible,” Sevrin shouted over the applause and cheers.

“I’ve never seen a show like that before,” Serena shouted back.

Talia looked at Bryna and saw that she was smiling with an awestruck expression of joy—an expression of joy and hope.

“Thank you, thank you!” Cailen’s voice wasn’t as loud or clear, but Talia still managed to hear it above the cheering and applauding. “Thank you all for coming, and I bid you a merry festival and a good night.” With that, he jumped from the stage and departed.

“That is going to be the talk of the festival for years,” exclaimed Sevrin, “I hope he’s putting on more shows.”

“That was an impressive display of magic,” Talia said.

“I’ve never seen someone create moving images like that before. He must have crafted the spells himself,” Serena said with excitement. “Think father could convince him to share them?”

“I doubt it,” said Talia. Spell guides were guarded jealously, and anything outside the most common spells would be kept secret. Any family with age or power had a small collection they guarded jealously.

“Serena,” It was Bryna who spoke, “we’re running late. The duels will have started by now.”

Talia, Sevrin, and Serena looked where the sun was just about to set behind the sheer cliffs surrounding Redlake.

“Oops,” said Serena.

And with that, the four friends hurriedly left their seats and ran for the arena.