There are worlds within this world which we cannot possibly perceive physically or mentally, and yet in every moment, we walk through them. And yet we are not blind.
There are realities that cannot be entered. The Netherworld, the Empyreal Plain, the World of Illusion and Mist...together, they are known to Humes as Otherworlds.
The order of creatures known as Scions hail from the Otherworlds. They are found in a plethora of residences, and they count among their numbers the emissaries of the Gods, protectors, spirits, and Sinners.
Though the Otherworlds are not normally accessible from this world, if certain requirements are met, it is possible to give otherworldly power a physical manifestation in our world. It has been discovered that that summoning of Scions is possible with the use of a particular magickal device.
However, it is certain that the power manifested through this means is only an echo of the Scion's true power. To evoke the true power of a Scion, it would be necessary to harmonize oneself to the Scion's being, fusing not only one's purpose with the Scion, but one's own body and mind.
Beware. Some Scions hide a dark past and shattered memories. Some philosophers say they are fallen Gods, others say they were created in the dark. But the truth is not for us...to know.
The Sage ascended the side of a dormant volcano, wrapped in crimson and blue robes. Within his robes he carried small stones, or shards. His blue eyes were clear against the soot-covered skin of his face. He walked towards the village under the looming shadow of the volcano, and entered. The village's name was Igneus. He looked over his shoulder, and then walked into an alley, taking out one of the concealed stones.
The stone was crimson in colour, and it looked high in temperature. He placed it against the wall, and looked at a calendar in the shop window. The month was March. Aries.
He used a Timelock to travel back in time, to February. The month of Pisces. He stood upon the ice of a cold, northern land; Ruthenia. His eyes narrowed as he walked through the city, nodding to people. Once again, he took out a shard, of this time a blue colour. He placed it in the doorstep of a building, and then left.
The Sage continued his travels, each time using a Timelock to travel in one year, each time to a different place. The grey stone was taking to the rocky crags on the edge of a desert in Americium.
The brown shard was left in a ploughed field in Jylland. The light green shard was left on a high peak in southern Tormelados. The deep blue shard was left on a shore in Suecia. The bright blue shard was taken to Apex, to the tower that ascended high into the sky. It was handed to King Sapientia, who treasured and guarded it.
The yellow shard was taken to southern Ruthenia. Each one had a purpose, an elemental purpose. Fire, Ice, Rock, Earth, Air, Water, Light, Lightning. But the Sage was almost sure he was missing one. Each one was laid to rest in a specific month, for a specific constellation.
Aries. . Leo. Taurus. Aquarius. Virgo. Capricorn.
He remembered, being forgetful at old age, that he had a shard of a very dark colour. His mind drifted back to when he had retrieved these shards from the Temple in Jylland.
There were 13 pedestals set out in front of him, each with a delicate carving for respective element. Flame, Waves, Icicles. He collected each shard from the pedestals respectively. But then he noted that five of the pedestals were defaced. He frowned as he tried to make them out.
Contagion, Energy, Death, Judgement, Ether. What had become of these shards? Had they been stolen from the Nexus of the Forests? He wondered at who would have defaced them.
His eyes drifted up to an elegant tapestry. But his eyes must have deceived him, for he saw no palpable design. The entire tapestry was a deep black, a few purple threads standing out. Something dulled in his mind, but his eyes drifted down, and there he saw it. A dark orb, purple energy deflecting the light. His brow furrowed, but he picked it up and added it to the others. And then, he left.
His brow furrowed once more as he beheld the shard in his hand. "But to where must I take this?" He said. There seemed no element and no land for this shard, but he refused to just forsake it.
He travelled to the Great Library in Scotia, north of Jylland, and spent days trying to research the origin and meaning of the purple shard. And there, he found the true meaning of forsaken.
"The fourteenth stone is that of the Dark, of a void. The void that ruled before the Gods were birthed, before Light was cast through the shell into the maw of the dark. From there, life conquered and the Dark pushed further back. Although we, the Humes, believe the Dark has lost, it as not. Alas, upon our ending, our souls are dragged back into the open maw of the Dark...forever. After the creation of the Elements, of Espers, of Scions, and Natural Orders, there was then created Shards, up in the celestial gaze of the heavens. Each one was assigned an Element, a Scion, a Constellation, and a Purpose. Reluctantly, the Gods created a Dark shard, but at the last moment, it was abandoned of a Constellation and a Purpose and cast down into the depths of the Otherworld. Betrayed, forgotten. The shard was then found by Humes, but never placed with the others on the Pedestals. It must be annihilated, and it must never be made a Pedestal. It must not be allowed to return fully to birth in the Hume realm. If that were to happen, the apocalypse would be upon us."
The Sage was desperate, anguished, and sorrowed at what the shard meant. Not knowing what to do, he went to his master. Proditorem, the Teacher.
"Welcome." The Teacher said, welcoming The Sage with open arms. "What bothers you, Vetus?" Proditorem asked the Sage.
"I...travelled to the Nexus of the Forest and therefrom took the shards. However, I saw that not only some Pedestals were defaced, but also the dark shard seemed forsaken. I do not know where to put this...weapon." Vetus said, bowing his head. He and the Teacher were the only two people who had authority to enter the Nexus of the Forest.
But Proditorem had not answered. He looked as if he was trying to stop an emotion from rising to his face. And then he turned. "The dark shard is something that is not to be meddled with, Vetus. If you would hand it over, then I would make sure of its destruction and desecration." Vetus nodded, but he noted something in his master's voice. A longing?
"Master, was it you who defaced those Pedestals?" Vetus asked, carefully. Proditorem exhaled. "And why would I do that? Vetus, I believed you wise. In this, I have also believed myself wrong. Now, the Shard."
Suddenly, Vetus was very reluctant. He had never once questioned or disobeyed his master, but he saw something in his master's eyes he dared not dwell upon. In fact, there was something very chilling about Proditorem's countenance. He had the look of youth, not the look of old age.
Vetus produced the dark shard in his left hand, and the Teacher spoke. "Yes, Vetus. I must have it..." He said as in an aside. Vetus' fingers closed over the shard. "But how can I allow myself to hand this to you if you greed for it? How can I teach others if my teachers is practicing what he doth preach?" Vetus said, uncertainly. As if he had just read the mind of his Teacher.
There was tense silence, which was then broken by Proditorem exploding. "How dare you, defy me! You are the Master and I am the Pupil, and you answer to me!" Vetus flinched. It was not within the Teacher's character to become angry.
"No. I am no longer the Pupil. I read the Texts, I read about the Pedestals, and I did as the Texts bid, not as you bid. That is not defiance but simply learning differently. When was this going to be carried out? Look around you, Teacher. The world around us is falling into dysentery. Slowly decaying through its cycles. And yet you are perfectly fine with this? You would have allowed me, to just ignore this, not know of the Texts, and let this be?"
Proditorem inhaled, and then yelled. "I discard you, abolish you! You bring shame and insolence to me! Do you know who I am? I am the Master, the Teacher."
"No, you are just a Teacher. You are not the Grand Mage. Do not forget your place, as it would bring shame upon yourself and your wisdom."
"Who are you to speak of shame?! Were you, were you planning to overthrow me, so that you could become the Teacher? Ah but, your kinship and everlasting wisdom remains intact even though mine is assaulted!"
"I am not assaulting your wisdom, my Master, but your teaching."
"Silence!" the Teacher roared.
Raamon, hearing the raised voices, came from a side archway. He was one of the Teacher's young aides, along with Daamon. "What is thy problem, lord?" Raamon asked, putting aside the bowl.
The Teacher had paused. Something about his demeanour was changing, his angered face contorting into a grin. The grin was consuming all of his face, and a disturbed look descended on Vetus' face. Suddenly, the Teacher collapsed to his knees, skin colour beginning to deepen, head in both hands. Vetus' stepped forward but Raamon was already there, attempting to comfort his master.
The door burst open and silver-armoured knights burst in, bearing the crest of Scotia. "Stand back, mate." One of the knights said to Raamon. The servant stood back, and Earnest, leader of the knights, talked down to the Teacher.
"Proditorem, you are under arrest on suspicion of necromancy, murder, and being a threat. Do not struggle and you shall not be harmed. Anything you speak now, may be used against you in the Gold Court." With that, Earnest motioned for two of his knights to restrain Proditorem.
They were flung back into the wall, and Vetus exhaled in shock. The Teacher's visage was now the masque of a vicious demon, whose eyes were on him. "So, if you refuse to willingly give me the shard, I shall take it from your ashes."
Earnest spoke as his knights surged forward to stand between the Teacher and them. "What is this shard?" He asked. "He must not have it." Vetus warned. Suddenly, two more knights were flung against the walls, and Proditorem rose to his full height, pulling back the robe on his forearm. There was an armlet, and from it Vetus swore he could hear whispers. Shemhazai.
A chill descended on him as he realized what the Teacher was going to summon. "Retreat! Retreat you fools!" Vetus said, waving the knights away. But too late, the air behind Proditorem shifted.
The shadow took the shape of a very tall woman, cloaked, and of good figure. But as it stepped out into the light, Vetus' jaw dropped. It had the hooves and head of a horse, shelled by a silver helmet. Instead of hands, it held crossbows.
It was Shemhazai, The Whisperer. The Scion who was a female, the one who had taught Humes of war and destruction. The one who had opposed Martyr Igeyorhm in the Heavens. She was a heathen Scion, controlling Synergy.
She looked upon Proditorem with what seemed to be pity, and then spoke in a soft, whispering and all-too persuasive voice. "How cruel mortals have become." Her tone changed to that of amusement. "Do you really seek as to betray the ones you hold dear? Very well, so be it. But you will pay the price, dear Teacher." With that, she turned towards the knights, who raised their spears in defence.
"Run!" Vetus tried to warn them, as they surged forward to strike down Proditorem. He was no longer a Teacher, but a Traitor. The crossbows the Scion held surged with synergy, glowing with ethereal power, and no sooner had Raamon grabbed him then the room seemed to implode.
Vetus was deafened and blinded, on his knees, as rubble and armour fell around him. He tried to open his eyes, but they stung. When he could finally open them, he beheld Shemhazai in all her beauty, looming over Proditorem. But something else was taking place.
"I may have been a nihilist, Hume, but no traitor. Or perhaps I was, they call me the Whisperer because I whispered to Ultima the weaknesses of the Gods." She walked away from him, but her hooves made little sound. "I am the language of lovers but the trade of thieves, the sound of the night, the sound of nature. And you are little more than a cheap illusion, Hume. The armlet you have will be your undoing." She turned back to Proditorem and raised her arm.
But the Traitor just smiled. "You see, you meant to say the Armlet will be 'your own undoing'. Back to the hell whence you came!" He yelled, and Shemhazai was at once bathed in a dark light. She said nothing as she withdrew. With the presence of the Scion dissipated, the Traitor turned his nefarious gaze on the Sage. "As for you, you will be obliterated from the history of this world, and all you've done. Look up to the sky, dreamer, and behold your end."
Supported by Raamon, the Sage looked up through the glass of the roof, up at the moon. It was Crimson, the Crimson Moon, of a Crimson Harvest, under the Crimson King. It started to glow bright, blinding him. He had not magick to even cast a shield: this was his end. The moon discharged a beam of energy in a deafening roar and he closed his eyes as its fire engulfed him. But the last words he spoke were;
Awaken.