PLEASE READ!
Hallo, allemaal! It's me, April243!
*boos are heard throughout the fandom*
Oooooh… Yes. I'm an ass, I know. I have come to bring you this story! If anyone watches Het Huis Anubis, you will know what this story is sort of about. For those who don't, I am loosely basing this story off De Vijf Van Het Magisch Zwaard/De Vijf Zintuigen, meaning the Five of the Magic Sword and the Five Senses. This show was the spinoff of the original and went on for two seasons. This was a really good spinoff and I wanted to bring this to an English speaking audience!
Again, this is loosely based off it and much of this will be of my own making (including the characters' names). Canon characters will show up throughout the entire span of this story so keep your eyes peeled!
Without further a due, The Five of the Magic Sword!
—April243
Prologue
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A group of young men galloped across the countryside, wet earth thrown up by the hooves of their steads. Soon, they slowed down. Pulling back on their reigns, they approached the clearing in which a dull grey stone sat, lumped and low to the ground.
An old man with a snow-white beard and a flowing robe stood close to its base, waiting patiently for the young men to dismount their horses and join the circle around the stone.
When they did, the old man bent stiffly to pick up a gleaming sword with magnificent dipiction of battle carved in rich wood on the hilt.
He held it to his chest and the men knelt before it.
"Knights of King Arthur, on this day I received a prophecy from the Lord our God," the old man began, his voice strong but frayed with age. "He told of a dark age— many millennium to come. A dark age when evil will come to rule the earth, spreading darkness over it!"
One man stood up, throwing back his helmet onto the ground.
"Merlin! How can this be?" he demanded, fear begining to shine in his blue eyes. "The Lord would never let evil rule! He sacrificed himself for peace!"
Though no other knight stood, several murmured in agreement.
Merlin sighed defeatedly and turned the tip of the blade into his palm, slicing it open. He cupped the blood in his hand and knelt by the stone's base, placing the sword horizontally in front of him.
"I could never fool you, Galahad, could I?" he said grimly, dipping his fingers into his pool of blood.
Galahad and the other Knights watched as Merlin drew five circles—all interlocking— on the stone. When he was finished, each one began to glow fiercely in its own color: the circle that claimed the top glowed white hot; one on the right side of the ring of rings shined a soft blue; the right bottom-hand gleamed a deep green; the left bottom hand gave off a turquoise hue, so gentle it made the Knights knees go weak; the last ring burned an excellent, fiery red.
"Your God has not sent me this prophecy…"
"Then who, Merlin?" begged Bors the Young.
"Yes…" Mordred smirked, his voice laced with spite and malice. "Who?"
Merlin sighed again as a breeze tugged at his robes and thin beard. "I do not know…"
Cries of outrage came from the Knights as they stood, shouting at him.
He raised his hand for silence. No one took heed.
"SILENCE!" the wizard cried, his voice echoing off the trees. The clearing grew still.
Merlin shut his eyes, picked up the sword and began to speak…
"There will be a dark time, millennium from this day and age…
"Evil will rule all, and death will be abundant throughout the known worlds…
"Five children— each gifted with sensitivity in one of their five senses: Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch, and Sound— will rise to oppose this darkness…
"Dark Druids will seek out these Saviors, equipped to recruit them for their wicked ways…
"They will win from evil's power if they are not swayed…"
Merlin trailed off, his eyes still shut. He lifted the sword above his head, the sharp tip facing the dead center of the stone.
"This Sword of Light will guide them on their journey to Salvation…"
With a mighty thrust of his arms, Merlin plunged the sword into the stone, blinding light pouring from it like a flood. A deluge of spiraling, gory, silent images filtered in and out of the Knights' visions:
A young lady clutching an even smaller lady— a child, really— covered in blood and sobbing hysterically. A boy thrusting a dagger into an older woman's forearm, black liquid oozing from the wound as she screamed in furious silent agony. A young lady holding a spherical object that glowed almost as brightly as the light from the sword as ice formed around her body, face frozen in an empty smile while a boy screamed desperately at someone unseen, mouth forming the words "Stop! Stop! It's killing her! Stop!"
The Knights of King Arthur's Court shuddered and turned their eyes away as the last horrid scenes finished their play, and the light dimmed.
Merlin still stood, hands clamped firmly on the hilt of the gleaming weapon. He stayed there, silent for several minutes and no one spoke.
Then the wizard began again, solemn and firm,
"All of this will come to pass…
Nothing will be as it was, and never will it be again…"
June 2, 2016
The man's shoes made an important-sounding click as he strode down the corridors of Amun Academy. He wore a well-pressed suit with not a single wrinkle to be seen. He was also bald, and his head was so shiny it caught the light in such a way that it blinded many of the students.
A group of seventh graders gave the polite greeting, "Good afternoon" when he looked in their direction for a breif moment. He scoffed and continued walking down the hall.
One of the seniors of Amun Academy, Cassie Tate, visibly bristled at the man's condescending attitude toward the "sevies," as everyone called the rambunctious children of year seven.
"Who put a bug in his tea?" her friend, Erin Blakewood, asked, shutting her locker and pushing her black hair behind her ears.
Cassie shrugged. "I don't know… but I don't like him very much…"
Erin laughed and tugged on her best friend's arm. "You don't like anybody, silly!"
It had been four years since the Touchstone was found and the Pyramid of Ra had been assembled. Four years since the Osirian sacrificed himself to save the world from destruction. Four years since the Anubis House children graduated.
But in exactly two and a half weeks, the new Anubis House children would graduate, bringing forth the next children on the waiting list, and the cycle would repeat again four years after that…
At least, that was the original plan.
But, you see, as Erin and Cassie walked off down the corridor to talk to Dexter Lloyd by his locker, we move on to the more pressing matters at hand— the man in Eric Sweet's office…
"B–But, Mr. Kij. How can it be that you've bought the school?" Mr. Sweetstuttered out, flustered and startled. "I– I– I don't know where to begin on—"
The man held up a smooth hand, small dark brown eyes never blinking. "I have always wanted to run a school, Eric. And now that I have bought one, I can," he explained creamily, not really answering the question.
Mr. Sweet went over the papers again, eyes skimming feverishly over the neatly typed print.
"… of course this means I am to be hiring all new staff, so I'm afraid, Eric that this will be your last few weeks of being headmaster," the man continued, no sympathy in his voice at all.
Eric Sweet's blood ran cold. "You're firing me?" he asked weakly.
Mr. Kij's face was grim, but Mr. Sweet could see the satisfaction in his beady eyes. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Once this term is over, I will be appointing my choice of headmaster into your position."
"But you can't do this!"
"I can, Eric, and I have," Mr. Kij suddenly snarled, jerking forward in his seat. Then he smoothed out again and leaned back. "It's all just bussiness— nothing personal."
But Eric Sweet only nodded numbly. He was leaving.
But this was only the begining…
August 5, 2016
Five children recived a letter that day, all saying the same thing:
Dear applicant,
We have written you to inform you of your exceptance into Amun Academy.
Out of several other applications, we have accepted yours and four others to be part of our Quinque Sensuum scholarship.
We cannot wait to have you with us this school term!
Sincerely,
Johan Kij
All five children had very different reactions.
The first child was sitting on her bed, surrounded by mountains of plush toys— the most worn one sitting on her lap—as she opened her letter, iPhone to ear on a call from her mother at work.
She read the letter aloud to her.
" 'We cannot wait to see you this school term. Sincerely, Johan Kij…' Mum, I don't know if I should accept this! I don't know if I want to leave home all year! I don't want to leave my friends!"
"… Darling, this is a chance to make some… real friends…" her mother said uncertainly.
She tightened the phone in her grip, gloves creasing. She could feel the phone grown hot through the thick material. "What do you mean, Mother?" she asked stiffly.
Her mother sighed. "Real friends, Sofie! Not stuffed animals!"
The child shut her eyes tightly then opened them again and fixed her glasses on her nose.
She took a deep breath, then answered.
"Fine… I'll accept."
The second child was in the storeroom of his family's diner, banging out some sweet rhythms with the carrot sticks on the barrels.
He leapt out into the kitchen when he grew bored.
"HellO, everybody!" he greeted loudly, cupping his ear to hear the chorus of returning greetings from the kitchen workers— which never came— and bouncing about the room energetically, tasting from random pots.
With each taste, his mouth became a detective service, discovering every single tiny seperate ingredient in the food. He relished it.
When the child bounced up to the head chef, she pulled down an envelope with his name on it.
"Aw, thanks, Mama, I love you! Woah, swag— fancy paper!" he exclaimed sliding out the letter.
His mother groaned. "Michael , why do you always talk like an American white boy? What's the matter with you?"
The boy ignored it and began to read his letter.
" 'pǝɐɹ ɐddlıɔɐuʇ'
ʍǝ ɥɐʌǝ ʍɹıʇʇǝu ʎon ʇo ıuɟoɹ—' Well, I don't know what language they're speaking, but I don't understand it!" he informed the head chef.
She sighed dramatically and flipped the letter around. "This might help, dear."
The boy's mouth formed an "o" while he read it silently. Then it grew into a grin.
"YES! YES, THIS IS IT! I'M OFF ON AN ADVENTURE!"
The third child had her letter read off to her. She sat up in her bed, lifting the protective eyewear from her face, only to have her eyes burn from the light. She put them back on quickly.
"Ex. Cuse. Me. I'm not leaving my home, my tutor, my entire life just to go to some school for poor people because I received a scholarship! I don't even remember applying!"
The man reading it, the butler, took a deep breath, mustering patience. "Miss, your father said he demands you go to experience life in the real world."
The child scoffed, laying back down. "Tell him to kiss my tush—I'm not going."
A voice rang out from the doorway to her massive bedroom. Her father.
"Oh yes, Anne. You most certainly are."
The fourth child was playing the piano when his father placed the letter in front of his sheet music.
"You've gotten in, boy. You've gotten the scholarship," his father announced.
The boy didn't answer, but he heard him. He heard everything. Even the headphones that constantly pressed into his ears couldn't keep it out.
His father lifted one headphone, heightening the sounds of everyday life, and shouted into his ear,
"DID YOU HEAR ME?"
The child let out a small cry of pain as the shout practically blew his eardrums clean out of his head and into space. He nodded, picking up the letter and skimming it.
"That's… exciting?" he offered, placing his hands back on the piano keys.
"Exciting?! It's more than exciting! It's magnificent! You'll get a wonderful education here, Ronnie! You'll actually make something of yourself!"
The boy just put his hands to work on the piano, letting the music dominate the preaching of his father.
The fifth child sat down to work at his desk, reading the letter as he settled into his chair. He smiled in satisfaction and turned on his recorded diary to place in his newest entry.
"Dear Recorder,
I made it in. I got the scholarship! I resolve to climb my way to the top of all my classes and stay away from friends.
This is it— this is when I make it or break it.
I'm going to do everything I can to be my very best.
Yours,
Peter"
He turned off the recording, and he leaned back in his seat. The faint smell of dog poop from the park across town hit his nose. It was rancid.
He took the two nose stoppers and stuck them deep into his nostrils. The smell disappeared.
"This is it," he repeated, fingering the corners of the letter. "This is where I make it or break it…"
What these five children didn't know was the danger they were about to step into, and how much it would cost them to get out of it.
if you have any questions regarding this story, just ask me. I'll be happy to answer!
REVIEW! ;D