High above the world, where rain and wind and clouds can't reach, floats a castle forgotten by man. It has no windows. It has no doors. Its walls are built from a metal no longer forged. Vines climb every inch and sprout sweet-smelling flowers that poison any who drink their nectar. Circling the base is a flowing moat of ever-changing liquid, from gold to silver, from water to blood, from mercury to lava.
How long has it been since he first built this castle? Has long has it been since he raised it to the sky? Has an eon yet passed? He stopped keeping track after the fourth century. It was difficult to monitor the passing of days and weeks and months and years when life inside the castle was static, and there was no need to mark time's passing either when, for him, it would never end.
Soon another hundred years will come to pass, though. He can feel it creeping closer as his spell fades and the binding begins to break.
He glides along the empty halls of his castle. Once upon a time, it was bustling with life, but now it is silent. Statues of people he used to know line his path, their last moments captured in elegant white marble, and his fingers caress their frozen faces as he passes by. He loved them, once. As much as he could love anyone. And now they are his forevermore.
At the end of the hall is his favorite place: the ballroom.
His wife sits on the floor in the middle. Her ebony hair like a pool of obsidian draped around her, and her gown a pale blue that perfectly matches her equally pale skin. In her hands, she cradles a silver hand mirror that refuses to show her face. A pity, truly, for what a lovely face she has. Often, she stares at it for days and weeks and months and years.
"It's almost time, my love," he says, his voice like a storm in the empty room. "Have you decided to play my game once more?"
"Seeing as we're still alive," says his wife, gaze still set on the mirror, her voice sweet as a nightingale, "I suppose I have no choice."
His laughter booms throughout the castle. The statues quiver in the halls.
"Excellent!"
He grabs her and draws her close. The mirror clatters to the ground, but doesn't break. One of her hands, he guides to his shoulder, and he rests one of his hands on her waist. With a rumbling in his chest, he hums. Slowly, the walls and statues echo the sound, adding lutes and lyres and a steady drum. The waltz he leads her through is out of tempo with the song, yet they both know the steps so well it's as easy as breathing. It's a dance they've done for days and weeks and months and years.
"Well, what game did you have in mind this time?" She asks. "Another war, perhaps?"
"My pretty Desdemona, you'd like that, wouldn't you? I've always loved that bloodlust of yours." The man chuckles. "But no war this time, I'm afraid. I've decided I'd like to add to my collection."
"A treasure hunt, then?" Desdemona holds onto her husband's shoulders as he lifts her by her waist. "How very dull of you, Adrastus."
"You misunderstand me, my love. By collection, I was referring to my menagerie. I'd like a new pet."
"And what foul beast have you set your sights on this time?" Desdemona asks.
"Oh my. You haven't noticed yet, have you? I thought for certain you'd be able to sense it." Adrastus bends her in a dip so low she almost touches the floor. "I suppose I was overestimating your magic."
"What exactly have I failed to sense?"
Adrastus raises her from the ground with a hard yank. "A new Cycle has begun."
The music stops. Desdemona jerks away from him. Fire fills her eyes, and she's across the room in an instant.
"Have you lost what ounce of sanity you still had?!" she yells, voice no longer a nightingale but a banshee. "As if I'd ever let you get your hands on a Phoenix! I'd sooner destroy it myself!"
Once more, Adrastus' laughter fills the castle. A chorus of voices mimics the sound. The air chills. Desdemona would shiver if she still felt the cold.
In a single step, he has her trapped against the wall.
"Then let's make that the game, my love," he whispers in her ear. His tone is low and deep, and Desdemona does shiver now.
She narrows her eyes, and the flames in them die a little. "What do you propose?"
Adrastus lifts a palm to her face and caresses her cheek with a gentle touch. How similar her skin is to his many statues.
"Do you believe you can destroy the Phoenix before I awaken it? I'd give you ten years to prepare, during which I will have no direct influence over the Phoenix's life."
"You're willingly giving yourself a handicap?" Desdemona kisses his palm. "How sweet."
"Anything for you, my love." Adrastus tucks her hair behind her ear. "After ten years, the actual game begins. We can't use our magic on the Phoenix, nor can either of us directly harm it. If I awaken it before the Cycle's end, I win. If you destroy it, you win."
"Is that all?"
"Unless you'd like to add something."
Desdemona thinks through his words before nodding.
"Fine," she says. "Same stakes as always?"
"Of course." Adrastus holds out his hand, lightning forming in his palm. "Do we have a deal?"
"Yes." Desdemona holds out her own hand, fire dancing on her skin. As soon as they touch, a burst of golden light surrounds them. When they let go, the black marks of chains have formed on their wrists.
Adrastus pulls his wife into an embrace and kisses her hard enough that blood flows from her lips.
"May the best man win, my love."
Marcelina Cinerus scowls as her husband, her beloved, her partner in crime, and the light of her life laughs himself silly. He braces himself against the stove, his hands resting on the burners with no problem.
"Are you finished?" She asks, trying not to sound too much like a petulant child. She'd known convincing Ajax to start a guild would be hard work, but she'd also assumed he would at least take her seriously. Not that she doesn't understand his reaction: Barberry is not a town known for its magic.
Ajax straightens himself out and wipes away a few tears.
"Lina," he says, "did you forget who you are?"
"Mi sol," Lina replies, "did you forget your connections?"
"Are you talking about Donovin?" Ajax scoffs. "Not even he would let you start a guild."
"Maybe not, but you would be an acceptable applicant, no?"
Ajax looks at her like she's threatened to murder him.
"Why are you trying to do this to me? I thought you understood my aversion to bureaucracy." He shudders and shakes his head. "No. The whole reason I left the Rune Knights was to avoid exactly that!"
"I thought you left them for me." Lina pretends to pout.
"It was twenty percent for you and eighty percent for my sanity." Ajax ducks away, chuckling as Lina swats at him with a tea towel. She chases him around the kitchen for a while until they're both too breathless with laughter to keep running.
"Ajax," Lina says once she's caught her breath. "I'm serious about this, you know."
He offers her a smile and a quick peck. "I believe you, but you and I both know how reckless you can be. Remember our wedding?"
"How could I forget?" Lina leans into his chest. "I'd say it ended up working out, though."
"I guess I can't argue with that," Ajax says as he wraps his arms around her. "I'll make you a deal: if you find a place we can use as a guildhall and convince Zyon to let you start one, I'll contact Donovin about the paperwork."
Brilliant and bright, Lina grins. "Challenge accepted."
*As of January 27th, 2021, I am no longer accepting OCs.*