"Ophelia..."
"Brother?" It was dark around her, just as she expected. She didn't know what had happened after Clare's claymore had ran through her, save for the fact that she had been thinking about her brother in the last moments of her life. Naturally, when her name was called, she thought that it was him.
"Ophelia..."
No, thats not Brother, she thought. The voice... It sounded like... The lady opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling above her.
"A ceiling," she mumbled to herself as she sat up. A young lady dressed like a peasant was sitting by her bed. Outside the room, she could hear a voice. It sounded like a brat yelling.
"Sophia, you have work to do. The newcomer should be awake any time now."
"Noelle, for the last time, I'm not budging until Hilda says she's awake." "Sophia" spoke with a much softer voice, although Ophelia thought that she sensed immense irritation in them. She looked at the lady beside her. She smiled gently as a reply.
"It has been a while, hasn't it?" It took Ophelia a while to realise who this lady was.
"You're..." Hilda raised her hand.
"Your questions will be answered in due time. For now, just take it easy." She then rose from her chair. At the door, she nodded her head. Noelle had a grin on her face.
"See? I told you so." Sophia merely shrugged her shoulders, as she walked down the corridor. Noelle then turned her attention towards Hilda.
"How's it like? Seeing the one who denied you a chance to die as a human?" Hilda's smile remained on her lips. Noelle meant no harm, she thought. It was just a joke on her part.
"Nothing, actually. After I heard the whole story, I knew that one way or another, I would end up here." Noelle's grin grew wider.
On her bed, Ophelia felt as if she was in a dream. Wasn't Hilda already dead, killed as an Awakened Being? In fact, wasn't that her own fate as well? But, how... She looked at her visitors as they filed into the room. Besides Hilda, there were four other ladies. Two of them were especially striking, for they stood at least a foot taller than the other three. Also, the pair looked alike in every way imaginable. Their silver eyes seemed to pierce Ophelia with their gaze.
"Noelle, Sophia, the two of you may take your leave," requested the twins in what seemed to be one single voice. The two bowed before making themselves scarce. The pair then returned their attention to the "newcomer".
"Welcome, child, to our domain. If you so wish, this shall be your new home."
"Who are you two," asked Ophelia.
"I am Teresa..." began one of them.
"And I am Clare." The two names sounded familiar. She was sure that she had heard them a long time ago, before she became a warrior of the organisation... Yes, that was it. Her brother had mentioned them to her, as he pointed to the statues. Teresa and Clare, the twin goddesses of love and beauty. But...
"I assure you that we are very real, Ophelia," replied Clare, as she sensed what the girl was thinking. Her long tresses seemed to glow in the room, even as the sun's rays shone through the windows. Her voice was soothing, yet her words concealed strength within them.
"First of all, you are no longer alive. It would be a good place to begin the story." added Teresa.
"When a Claymore dies, regardless of whether she has awakened, her soul will be liberated from the abomination which is her half-human, half-Yoma body. Her soul is then brought here, to our domain, where she must make a choice."
"A choice," asked Ophelia. Hilda nodded.
"A choice to return to life as a human, or to fight at Ragnarok."
"Hilda, you're getting ahead of the story," chided Clare gently. The lady bowed humbly, and kept silent.
"This story is one which we tell every soul when they come here. It is a story which Man has long forgotten, for it harks back to an age where human and Yoma were at peace with each other," said Teresa. Ophelia's eyes widened.
"You may not believe it. But once upon a time, the Yoma were not devourers of men, but noble beings. Dignified and handsome, they were then known as the Magical Ones." Teresa felt a pang of pain as she remembered those times, and how they were lost.
"When our father created this world, he created two groups of intelligent beings. One is Man. The other, are the Magical Ones. The Magical Ones are magnificent creatures, wise in lore and knowledgeable in any way humans could imagine. Our father made them solitary beings by nature, as one of their few blemishes."
"Man was created to be inferior in almost every way. They were slower, weaker in strength. But, he gave them a strong spirit, the will to fight. Also, he made them sociable, so they lived together with each other in numbers. Initially, there was peace. Man would seek out the Magical Ones to learn about the knowledge which can be learnt, and the Magical Ones were willing to teach. But..." Teresa paused. Sensing that her sister was unable to go on, Clare continued the tale.
"Father entrusted us with the stewardship of Man. As for the Magical Ones, he entrusted them to our brothers, Edwardo and Vincent. Like us, they were twins. But, their hearts harboured boundless ambition. To prove themselves to our father, they betrayed those whom they were supposed to protect."
"How did they do that," asked Ophelia.
"They had been angry when Father chose Man as his favourite. Seeing humans as unworthy of such praise, they twisted the bodies and souls of the Magical Ones, turning them into the first Yoma. Although we were distressed by this, we could not bring ourselves to kill these creatures, who had done nothing wrong on their part. Due to their numbers, they did not kill humans on the scale which you're familiar with now. But, Edwardo and Vincent were not done yet."
"As a further insult, they created the organisation, and the process of infusing Yomas with humans." Ophelia could tell that the goddess was trying hard to keep her emotions in check. Teresa held her sister's hand, as she continued.
"The handlers and the leaders of the group were not humans, but servants of our father. They chose to join Edwardo and Vincent in their mad scheme because of their own ambitions. As such, athough they are allied with our brothers, there was mutual distrust between them."
"So, the Awakened Ones were actually..."began Ophelia.
"They were created by Edwardo and Vincent, as a calculated insult to us: to use a being which was once human to destroy humans. Granted, our brothers have hidden important facts about them from the organisation, resulting in disasters."
"But, once our brothers have decided their champion from among the Awakened Ones, to lead them in battle, Ragnarok will be upon us."
"Ragnarok?"
"When that day comes, Man will be destroyed, unless we stop them," replied Hilda firmly.
"But, how..." Ophelia lost her words as Clare held out her hands. There was a flurry of light, before a claymore was seen resting in the goddess' palms.
"The time has come for you to choose, my child. If you accept this sword, you will stay here until Ragnarok, training with those who had chosen to fight. If not, you shall return to the world, to be reborn as a human. Hopefully, you'll have the peaceful life which was denied to you." Ophelia reached for the sword. The sentient blade floated towards her, and rested on her lap.
"You have made your choice. Hilda, you will be showing Ophelia around once she's fully recovered."
"Yes, my lady." With that, the goddesses left the room. Once they were alone, Hilda held out her hand.
"Welcome to your new home, Ophelia."
"I..." The girl couldn't look at Hilda. She remembered what she had done. Hilda's hand remained where it was.
"What's past, is past. For now, only the preparations for Ragnarok mattered to me." Ophelia picked up the courage to look at Hilda. She shook the hand.
"Thank you, for forgiving me." Ophelia's voice was now a soft whisper.
"We are no longer Claymores. The only thing that's welcome here from our previous lives, are the skills we've learnt."
"Does that mean..."
"Feel it for yourself." Ophelia checked her body. Through the fabric of her clothes, she realised that the scar was gone. The scar which was seared in her after she became a warrior. Hilda felt it necessary to explain a few things.
"Here, we do refer to ourselves as 'Claymores'. Unlike in the past, that name is now spoken with pride, for our claymores are formed from shards of the ladies' powers." Ophelia stood up, and held her blade in her hands. It was light, and she could see her old symbol engraved on it.
"You'll learn how to fight with this new claymore. Since we do not possess Yoki, it will be a different experience. But eventually, you'll be able to do your Rippling Blade again." Hilda thought for a while, before continuing.
"The ladies didn't want to mention this, but ultimately, their powers are the source of all our skills. If we tapped too much, they would vanish from existence." Ophelia was shocked at this.
"But, why would they..."
"As you probably have guessed, not all who came here chose to stay. And since we only accept female souls, for now, there's no problem. But, more will come, Ophelia. They will, and they must, for Ragnarok. When they do..." Hilda's voice trailed off.
"Why did it have to come to this?"
"Edwardo and Vincent must have thought through their plans throughly. From what I heard from the ladies, the Claymores' silver eyes and scars were no accident. Even their apparently obvious goal to destroy Man may not be so simple." Ophelia tightened the grip on her blade.
"And... the champion for the Awakened Ones may have already appeared. I believe the countdown to Ragnarok has began. When it arrives, not only would the fate of Man be decided; the fates of Yoma, the Awakened Ones, possibly even the gods, would be determined."
"When can I start training," asked Ophelia.
"Soon, but for now, you need to rest. If you want to explore this place on your own, go ahead. We're a friendly lot here." With that, she left the room. Resting her blade against the wall, Opehlia looked out of a window. The scenery outside was beautiful, with lush verdant grass and hills in the distance. This may be paradise, but...
"I see that Ladies Clare and Teresa are done," said Noelle as she stood outside the room. Ophelia took a look at her. Her ridiculously short hair made her look like a boy. Anyway, she was soon in front of Ophelia.
"Name's Noelle," said the girl, as she thrust out her hand. After the greeting, Noelle couldn't resist playing a joke on the newcomer.
"I think you should know by now that there are many who were sent here by you when you're still alive. I heard that come practice time, they would be making a beeline to spar with you." Ophelia bowed her head. Noelle laughed, and patted her shoulder.
"I'm just joking. Up here, there are no more hard feelings. We train our blades to fight Awakened Ones, not fellow Claymores or Yoma. Ragnarok will be one hell of a show, and we need every Claymore we can get our hands on. But, as you've probably heard, the ladies would be at risk if we tapped too much into their powers."
"How did you end up here," asked a curious Ophelia.
"Sophia and I came together. By right, there should be a third one with us. Somehow, she isn't here." Noelle shrugged her shoulders.
"Anyway, take it easy. My room's the last one down the corridor. Just drop by if you need company." With that, Ophelia was left alone in the room. She picked up her claymore again. It shone brightly in the sun, more so than her mortal blade.
"Looks like I'm not yet done with the hunt." Ophelia was sure of one thing: She would want to be the one to kill the one-horned monster, when the day comes.