Chapter 16: Dim Age
Dawn
Slowly, the colours and shapes of the world of Weyard began to blur through the Void, and the Wise One sensed the smell and feel of the world in full summer. A ripple of energy ran through him, and suddenly he returned fully to Weyard.
His Caelestine body gleamed as he hovered hundreds of feet above Vale, surveying the landscape with his newfound abilities. He sensed the heat signatures of the people moving to and fro, and the massive horde of magma lurking beneath Aleph.
Tendrils of ghostly elemental mana swam through the earth, in the water and throughout the air. They were insubstantial, like a light fog, but he could see them.
Like a whirlwind, there was a giant miasmal of elemental psynergy swirling around Mount Aleph and leaking out onto the surrounding city, encasing the entire area in a cocoon of colour. A thinner blanket covered the rest of Weyard, but with similar masses around the Lighthouses and the Rocks, undoubtedly. Yet even as he watched, the horde lessened, with small whispers of energy going towards the horizons of the world… to eventually fall off Gaia Falls, never to return. And with no Lighthouses to restore them, the world was slowly but surely weakening.
He sighed. He now had confirmation of what he had suspected all along: that the Dim Age, unless halted in time, would mean the end of the world.
What a burden to bear. Thousands of lives and the very fate of Weyard depended on his guidance: if he stood by and did nothing the world would perhaps light the Lighthouses, but only to see the rise of another Regnoare. Or worse, they would not be lit and the world would die slowly.
And perhaps the first step, he mused, is to meet the Council of Vale and lay down the law. He turned to look at the grand tent below him, and concentrated, vanishing in a haze of energy.
"Lily damned!" King Astonas slammed his fists down on the table, causing the piece of furniture to rattle. The other Council members flinched, the flickering torchlight in the tent leaving their faces half in shadow.
Among their numbers could be seen the Proxian Sthraume; Elder Viyat; the newly-appointed Lord Vishnar of Imil; Miss Skye, who was anxious to return to Anemos; Lady Lynn, Desaeis' daughter; Regent-King Hydros; and the former king and queen of Lilyvera, Astonas and Galedia. A large bed was set aside in the shadows, upon which Lord Calathur and Lady Scythia slept, still on the road to recovery. They had their arms about each other and were breathing softly, expressions of tranquility on their faces.
Outside, creatures of the night hooted and howled, and the occasional rustlings of the two guards on duty beside the tent could be heard, mostly the scuffles of booted feet, a cough, and muttered conversation.
Astonas shifted, many emotions clear on his face: anger, irritation, worry, and helplessness. "They're… not coming back." He said firmly, but his eyes held his true feelings and a kind of disbelief. "We have to believe the worldwide reports of a great blast from within the caverns we sent them to. And since they haven't since emerged, we have to assume the Fivefold are… dead." He said stonily, without emotion.
Elder Viyat nodded sadly, his eyes downcast. "Yes. It seems they destroyed Regnoare, but paid with their lives."
"Now where are we?" Lord Sthraume asked, his legs crossed as he leaned back in his chair. "What can we do?"
Vishnar stood, eyes flaming. "What we can do doesn't matter. It's that we try is important. We've been sitting here all day moping and sulking, instead of getting something done!"
"Here, here!" Skye called, smiling.
Galedia turned on her. "So, what do you suggest we do?" She said icily.
"Not fight amongst ourselves, for one," Skye shot back.
Lynn toyed with her hair, her expression thoughtful. "There are still Summon Spirits to be defeated, at the least. Weyard on a whole is in chaos, and it seems Regnoare came and went so fast the leaderless peoples may have delusions of power, and we may have a few tyrants on our hands." She tapped her fingers on the table.
Hydros nodded his agreement. "We'll need prefects or something to govern each area. Vale can be the world's capital, like before, and each prefect can have a headquarters where he or she can live and govern from." He stood and began pacing behind his chair, warming to the idea. "Yes… our Council, here in Vale, will decide who governs what province. They will serve two, maybe three-year terms, upon which they will submit a status report. If that report is favourable, we shall allow them to stay. If not, they will be replaced."
He ran his hand through his hair, his face thoughtful. "That would prevent tyrants from rising, Lynn," he said, turning to the pirate. "In the Dim Age, cities won't be able to support massive populations, and our people will have to spread to the four corners of Weyard. The reduced supply of Psynergy will force us to develop into rural communities, to farm the land ourselves. If every person needs about a, say half acre of land to live off, we'll definitely need to expand." He looked down and made some rapid calculations on his fingers, muttering under his breath. "Yeah, half an acre should work. Maybe even a quarter."
Viyat looked up and smiled at the younger man. "You have a knack for governing, young Hydros. I can see why Maris chose you as her successor." The expressions of most of the Council members darkened, and Viyat clapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry, forgive me! How callous of me to remind you of those so recently gone."
"Gone, but not forgotten," Vishnar said darkly.
"And may you remember them always."
The Wise One, who had been listening, invisible, to the entire council, chose at this moment to make his grand entrance.
The air above the massive table shimmered for a moment, and the councillors saw the person opposite them rippled, as if the very fabric of space was distorted. Those ripples strengthened, and a form began to take shape in the air.
The Wise One appeared above the table, his rocky body about as tall as a man, and roughly spherical. The Council stared at him wide-eyed, feeling acutely the waves of sheer power flowing from him, and the massive wealth of Psynergy he held. His single cerulean eye scanned the council, and they gazed back in amazement.
At last, Viyat croaked out. "Who- what are you?"
The Wise One turned his glaring eye on the elder, and Viyat felt as shocked as he locked gazes with the being. The eye throbbed with power, and held an intensity rivalled only by Sol itself.
"I am the Wise One, emissary of the elemental gods. Sent here to guide you through the Dim Age, through a road of trials on your way to paradise. I shall be Vale's protector, and the guardian of the Elemental Stars."
Viyat said, "How do we know you are really an emissary of the gods?"
He turned his single eye on the elder. "You can't. You only have your faith to believe that the gods have come to aid you. I am the proof of that."
Well then, Guardian, why don't you let us retrieve the Stars and relight the world? This so-called 'Dim Age' would wreck the world as we know it!" Viyat yelled.
"Indeed it will. But aided with the power of the Elemental Stars and the Gods' Djinn, the Fivefold had constructed a series of traps to destroy any who try to retrieve the Elemental Stars. Only they could have deactivated the traps. Perhaps."
It was so strange to refer to the Fivefold in past tense, the Wise One reflected. Even though Aleos was no more, physically, I am still he. And the Fivefold, likewise, are still there, buried somewhere in oblivion.
He sighed inwardly, and turned to face Astonas, who was staring at him with disbelief.
"That cannot be…" The massive man said. "Foolish Fivefold! From the reign of a tyrant to a slow and agonizing demise! What have they done?" He slammed his fists angrily on the table, breathing heavily.
The Wise One remained impassive. "What was right. Regnoare would have brought about a fate much worse than death: eternal suffering as his slaves. That would have been unavoidable. The Fivefold had the courage and the will to wrench ultimate power from the necromancer's hands. And though by these actions they may have doomed it, it is definite that they saved it. "
"Insanity," Viyat mumbled, leaning back in his seat. "Without the power of Psynergy, we will become a race of barbarians! We shall be Adepts no more!"
"Barbarians, you say?" Lynn said icily. "It isn't our power, glory, or what we can achieve that determines who we are. It is our hearts, our choices, our souls, and our feelings. Our friends, and how we live our lives. That, is who we are. Which is more barbaric: the peasant farmer without Psynergy, who loves his neighbour and all nature? Or tyrants, like Regnoare himself, who hold massive power yet throw away the lives of thousands for sake of their own gain? I'll admit that I have done some questionable acts in the past, but even I can see that this Dim Age is in our best interest."
The Wise One inclined respectfully towards Lynn. "Well said. This young woman, stripped of her nation, her father, and her friends, understands what humanity must now go through: a trial to find itself. The corruption of power has had an influence for far to long: you humans need to be reminded of what life truly is."
'You humans', the Wise One thought sadly. It is true. I am no longer one of them. My power, it cannot be held by any mere mortal… I am no longer the man known as Aleos. I must realize my new existence as protector of Vale and Weyard. As well, as Lynn said, I need to guard against the corruption that power brings. I cannot lose my humanity completely.
"In light of that," he continued. "Laws must be created to prevent countless wars over the power of the Stars."
"But didn't you say the traps were going to take care of any intruders?" Vishnar asked calmly.
The Wise One admired his steadiness. The ability to adapt to change nearly instantly is a virtue of the young, something people like Viyat, Astonas, and the others would not be able to do. The new Dim Age, it will belong to the young.
He turned to face the young knight. "That may be, but there will always be those cruel enough to sacrifice the lives of others as well as Vale in order to reach their goal. Only the most evil will be able to retrieve the Stars, those willing to sacrifice all but themselves. And it is precisely those kind of men that we need to defend the Stars from."
Vishnar nodded his understanding. "And the laws are…?"
The Wise One closed his eye, and spoke in his disembodied voice. "The Stars must be protected at all costs. This is each Valean's sacred duty." He turned to Hydros. "But as far as government goes, I believe the Regent has the right idea. A provincial system, with the worldwide capital as Vale. All sworn to protect the sacred treasure of the Elemental Stars. Divided not by the boundaries of elemental race, but by the geographical divisions of country."
He turned away. "You may work out the details as you please. Before I leave, though…" He turned back and stared at the two Adepts coiled on the couch. "Lord Calathur, Lady Scythia, is there anything you want to ask?"
The eyes of the two Adepts flew open, and started at being called by name. Scythia scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "I guess you knew we were awake, huh? Anyway… Calathur?"
The Solian nodded and leaned up on one elbow. "Wise One, I have a question to ask of you."
The Wise One closed his eye. "Ask."
"In the Dim Age… what will become of the Sol and Luna Adepts? We have no Lighthouse to sustain our power…"
The Wise One opened his eye and looked gravely on the blonde-haired hero. "Your fears are justified, Lord Calathur. The reason Sol and Luna do not have Lighthouses or Rocks, is because they draw their power from a different source."
He paused for a moment, and the council listened intently. "Fire, Earth, Wind, and Water are the Material Elements, that exist in the earth and draw their power from it. Sol and Luna, Celestial Elements, only exist here as an amalgamation of the four elements. They have no earthly bounds, and exist truly only in the heavens, as the sun and moon, which are the common names of Sol and Luna.
"Take light, for example." A ray of white light suddenly shone through the tent, illuminating the surprised faces of the Council. At the Wise One's thought, a prism appeared in the air on the beam, fracturing it into a rainbow of colours. In that rainbow, the council could see the elemental colours, amongst others. "Within the white light of Sol lies the power of all the elements. Likewise," he inclined his head, and complete blackness fell over the tent, so black they couldn't see their hands in front of their faces. Only the Wise One's azure eye remained, faintly luminescent in the darkness.
"Colours hide within shadows." Slowly, the darkness began to lift, revealing the bright blue of Vishnar's armour, the soft magenta of Skye's, and many more. The room eventually returned to its original brightness, giving the Council a newfound appreciation for the colours they saw.
"So you see," the Wise One said, facing Calathur and Scythia. "Until the Nova Ages dawns, you Sol and Luna Adepts will sleep. Your descendants, if you have any, will be as that fractured light: spread across the four material elements."
"All of you," he said, facing the Council on a whole. "I bid you farewell. Be strong through this Dim Age, and may the gods watch over you."
As they all raised said goodbye, he slowly became transparent, and then vanished completely.
Shadow in the Darkness
In the depths of Anemos Sanctum, the body of Orior lay motionless on the ground. There was no blood, as the holy fire of Solar Flare had cauterized the veins of his neck instantly. His head had rolled off into the shadows and rested against the walls, his emerald eyes glassy and glazed.
There was utter silence in the Sanctum. In the depths of her realm, Iris was gently weeping with regret for the murder of her saviour, the one who freed her from madness. But in the world of Weyard, there was darkness, dust, and the beginnings of rot.
A shadow flitted through lighter shadows, an insubstantial form in a sanctum of death. It twisted its shade head, and let out a low screech, like a blade sliding down the guillotine.
So long…
It shivered involuntarily, shadow spit dripping from a fanged mouth. It retained a vaguely humanoid shape, but some would call it a demon. A shade.
Blood. Death. Ruination.
It crept out stealthily from the wall, till it stood over the corpse of Orior. Nothing moved for a long while, and then it moved. In a lightning motion, it poured its entire being into the body of Orior and the corpse shivered as it did so, pulsating like a man electrocuted.
Nothing happened for several more moments, as if the chamber was staring in shocked silence.
Then the body twitched, a dark violet shockwave spread outwards for a few feet before dissipating.
Silence.
Another twitch, another out pouring of energy.
Silence.
Twitch.
Silence.
Twitch. Twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch…
Slowly, jerkily, like a marionette, the body rose from the ground, limbs flailing. It moved wildly, and then stood still, arms hung at its sides and neck inclined.
An inhuman sound ripped from its severed throat as the body lifted its head skyward and screamed. "I LIVVVVVVEEEE!"
It stood straight, and began to morph.
The severed head dissolved into shadow and ran across the floor, rejoining the body.
With a metallic clank, metal plates appeared out of the air and attached themselves to his body. They were a deep purple in colour, the colour of royalty. Liquid gold poured itself onto the plates and solidified. The plates, woven by the gold strips, formed itself into a grand suit of armour, heavy boots, wide shoulders, massive vambraces, all in all a beast of a figure. He outstretched his arm and the a changed Auraleo appeared there, in the shape of a white curved sword laced with gold.
His shoulders flexed as a dark red cloak unravelled from thin air, stopping just at his ankles. The edge was ragged with triangular slashes, it its fringes were a darker red. Where his head should have been, the white gold flowed in a circle, creating a round hole, in the depths of which the severed neck of Orior's body could be seen.
He raised his arm, the plating creaking ominously.
Power. It's been so long since I had such power!
He snapped out his arm, and a fierce wind gusted, stirring his cape and the dust. Power over nature itself, mine! Begone, pitiful mortal!
Inside the armour, the remnants of Orior's body dissolved like sugar in water, turning into nothingness in mere moments. The suit creaked and rolled, and a dark voice issued forth.
And now, it rumbled. I shall rain destruction upon the world! I am the Dullahan!
He sprung into the air and leapt over the vast abyss in a single leap, and charged down Anemos Sanctum, blade flashing, a dread howl ripping from within the suit of armour.
Danger. Anemos Sanctum.
The Wise One received the message shortly after leaving the Council, and its serious tone chilled his bones. For all he knew, it had come from the gods themselves. Wasting no time, he called upon his new abilities and Teleported to the front gate of Anemos Sanctum.
He saw the bootprints in the dust where Orior had walked towards his doom, and the door hung ajar where he had barged in. The place was desolate, and only: apparently the Anemosians would not worship here any longer.
He hovered over to the door, and peered inside. A stone tablet gleamed just inside the door, standing on the mural of a curled up skeleton, fetus-like. The path beyond yawned into darkness, and his heightened senses could pick up the trails of Luna Psynergy infused into the stone.
I was supposed to go with Orior, he thought miserably, and instead I sent him to his death.
In the far off depths of the sanctum, he heard a deep bellow full of triumph. Some monster has just found dinner, he mused. But when booted feet began banging on the stone ahead, he set himself on guard. By the waves of darkness emitting from the hole, this was no ordinary monster.
Raaaarrgh! With a malicious cry, an eight-foot tall monster leapt out from the shadows and flew at the Wise One, blade extended.
Surprised, he reflexively summoned a shield, and was shocked when the force of the monster's attack pushed him back into the hallway before the Sanctum proper.
And he realized it was not truly a monster. It was a headless armoured being, true, but something about the aura, the sense…
"Orior!" He challenged.
Orior's not here anymore, the being sneered. I own his body now. Or, rather, what's left of it. He gave a low laugh, arrogant and cold.
The Wise One's gaze hardened. "You shall not pass." He threw out a shockwave of power, and sent the being flipping head over heels back into the Sanctum.
The Dullahan landed on his feet and growled. You can't keep this up forever! I will escape!
The Wise One considered this. "You are right, but I will not have to. Creatures of the Elements, Djinn, hearken to me now!"
Four beams of different coloured energy shot into the room from thin air, and smashed into the walls around the Wise One, diffusing into many different sparks of power. They swirled as one and pushed back the walls of the hall, crafting it into a great square-shaped room. As Dullahan watched with growing rage, a great door of stone ground between he and the Wise One. He charged with a shout of frustration, and the door buckled under his weight and a crack appeared in the centre, but it held.
You can't do this to me! I won't let you! The spectre cried furiously.
The sparks congregated above the door, carving four hollows in the walls, then they spread out and drew a wide insignia on each corner, one for each element. The sparks flew apart and burned a miniature version of its element onto the stone around. A wave of rainbow energy ran down the door, sealing it with the power of the Elements and making it an impervious barricade. The pounding of the Dullahan was silenced by a door that blocked all existence with its power.
The Wise One looked sadly at the closed door. "Farewell, Dullahan, shade of Orior." With that, he vanished.
White Wedding, circa Year III, Dim Age
Scythia smiled happily as she fussed around the dressing room given to her. There was a full-length mirror propped in one of the corners, and a massive bureau in the centre. Red ribbons were drawn across the wooden plank walls, and a luxurious fur rug was laid on the ground. An ornate gown was laid out on the dresser, decorated with frills and laced with various gems. Brass pegs were hammered into all the walls of the room, and various articles of clothing hung from them. Broad windows on the east and west sides let in some sunlight, and there was a small door on the south side.
She stepped into her frilly white dress, and pulled it up over her corset while slipping her arms into the sleeves. She pulled the collar around her neck and reached behind to her back, struggling to do up the laces. After a few moments of trying, she gave up with a sigh, and began to address her hair in the mirror.
She lowered her head and ran a fine bone comb through her tresses, making them shine glossily. She ran her fingers through and flipped her hair back behind her, holding it place with her hand. She took a string of pearls and with a few well-practiced motions, threaded them through her hair and tying it into a high ponytail. A few locks escaped to frame her face, but as she evaluated at her reflection, she decided she liked it.
The door burst open and a cheery missile flew itself into Scythia, crushing the slender woman to herself. The missile was none other than Lynn, a bit older than that dark time three years ago, when the Golden Age ended. She was wearing a flowing turquoise gown, with lacy cuffs and throat, and her brunette hair was put into three braids, all of which ran down her back. Her grey eyes were alight with joy as she embraced her friend.
"Scythia!" She said in a singsong voice. She pulled back and held the Mantiu at arm's length. "It's your big day! I'm so happy for you!"
Scythia smiled sheepishly and gently took her hands from Lynn's. "I can hardly believe it myself…" she said softly, under her breath.
Lynn bent forward, a quizzical expression on her face. "What?"
Scythia looked up. "Oh? Hm? Nothing… say, Lynn, can you lace my dress?" She turned around and held out her arms.
Lynn leaned forward and inspected the dress for a moment. "You know, I wouldn't have had a clue how to do this if Galedia hadn't taught me," she said conversationally. "Inhale."
Scythia took a deep breath obediently. Lynn deftly threaded the laces and tied it tight at the top with a strong yank. Scythia let out a small squeak as the dress tightened and her midsection, squeezing the breath out of her. "Sorry, Scy. Couldn't be helped."
Scythia ran her fingers through her hair. "I understand." She shifted around in the dress, and walked over to the wall, running her hand over the hooks and pegs before selecting a coronet of white gold with a gauzy veil falling from it. She fitted it onto her forehead and flipped the veil behind her, before turning to face Lynn.
She spread her arms. "How do I look?"
Lynn put her hands on her hips and looked her up and down. "Like you don't know the meaning of colour. Here," she walked over to the wall and trailed her hand through the various flowers in one of the vases. She came back with a red rose and placed it through Scythia's ponytail. "There."
"Thanks, Lynn." Scythia touched the flower gently. "So, are you going to be at the ceremony?"
"Of course! I wouldn't miss my little Scythia finally getting married! Why'd it take you two so long to get together?"
Scythia coloured slightly and looked away. "Reconstructing the entire world of Weyard kind of took up most of our time… not to mention destroying the remnants of the Mantrak army."
Lynn sighed and walked beside her friend. "Yeah. That one was some hell to go through. So, you're deciding to be married now that we finally defeated Scyrian?"
"Yeah. A little celebration to restore the morale of the people. The two great leaders of the war, falling in love and being married," she said, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
"What? You don't want to?" Lynn said, surprised.
"No, no, it's not that." Scythia waved it off. "I do, more than anything else. It's just… we're not really being married because we want to. We're being married for the good of the people. And it irritates me."
Lynn smiled and put an arm around her the Luna Adept's shoulders. "Don't worry about it. You're marrying the man you love, that's what important."
"I suppose you're right," Scythia admitted. Then she brightened. "Well, the ceremony should be starting soon. Hope to see ya there, Lynn!"
Lynn saluted cockily as she walked out the door. "Rest assured, I'll be there. And at the party afterwards too."
The plain door swung shut, and Scythia breathed softly to herself. She only wished the third member of their little quartet could be there, but Skye left her regretful thanks that she couldn't stay for the wedding and returned to Anemos. As for the fourth, Vishnar had to politely decline. "I hope so."
The musicians played a solemn tune as Scythia walked slowly down the aisle, putting one slipper-clad foot in front of the other with her head bowed, veil obscuring her features. Beside her fell the heavy footsteps of her guardian, the lord who had kept true to a dead man's word. He guided her down the path, and on this of all moments she was grateful for his presence.
Sitting on finely carved wooden benches on either side were her comrades and fellow citizens, those who had struggled through the Setting and through the Mantraki War. They were warriors hardened from the horrors of war, from seeing villages razed to the ground and thousands of innocents murdered. People who had not known that the coming of Regnoare was to be only the precursor to the Mantrak onslaught. People who, after three long years of war, have forgotten that the true threat had been Regnoare, have forgotten the fear they once felt. Only a vague apprehension at the mention of his name.
People who have forgotten the Fivefold, the true heroes, Scythia thought to herself. They are materialistic; they believe in only what they can see. I see now, why the gods have allowed this Dim Age. We have become weak.
And it was true. They had lost a quarter of the world's population to the Mantrak, not to speak of those who lost their lives during Regnoare's brief reign.
The soft grass of summer rustled beneath her toes as she paced forward. The birds chirped all around and bees buzzed in the flowers. The vast meadow danced with life and activity, filled with the murmurs of the veterans and bathed in the warm glow of the sun.
It was the same meadow that the Fivefold swore their oath in, the same meadow that bore witness to their desperate vow. Destroyed by the darkness of the void, then revived by the power of Psynergy.
Scythia breathed deeply, and chanced a glance upward. Through the hazy gauze of the veil, she saw faces. Some smiling, some crying, all happy. She felt her heart swell. Because of their will to triumph over darkness, all this had come to pass.
Her gaze travelled up the aisle, and there, in the shade of a giant peach tree, was her beloved. His sun gold hair was neatly combed and held back with a small crown of white gold. His blue eyes smiled at her warmly from his hard cut face, and his muscular form was clad in the formal robes of his country. White linen with a gold sash tied over his chest, and a white leather cape split in the middle to resemble folded wings.
To his right stood a somewhat disgruntled priest, his greying hair capped with a tall crown.
Scythia drew herself up beside the man she loved, and her guardian gently released her arm to stand at attention behind her. King Astonas gave her a loving smile, and she could have sworn there were tears in his eyes.
She was lucky to have two such strong men in her life. One, a hero she would spend the rest of her life with; the other, her guardian who had brought introduced her to the joy of life after living under the shadow of Mantium.
She and Astonas had first become guardian and fledging shortly after the Fivefold passed away. He, deep in grief over a son that may never return; she, lost the people who saved her from the tyrannical rule of the Mantrak and, worst of all, her own brother Regnoare. They both needed comfort, and a purpose in life.
And they found it. Since Scythia was to be a permanent member of the Council, he instructed her in all manners of governing, though she already had an idea from a partial governance of Mantium. He taught her everything he would have taught Orior, and those skills helped her through the long years of war that followed.
His wife, Galedia, also taught her all the domestic skills she knew, useful when one was managing their own house or as a wife. Although Scythia started so inept in this field that the former queen would often throw up her hands in exasperation and send her to Astonas, whose lessons Scythia frequently enjoyed.
Scythia returned from her reminiscing as the elder began to speak.
"We are gathered here today… to witness the union of two loving souls, who have both lead us through this period of tribulation that is just now at an end, praise the elements. It is their just reward that they now live in holy matrimony, together forever, with each other and surrounded by the ones they love.
"Light and shadow, Sol and Luna. This is not only the uniting of man and woman, but also the start of a bond between two countries that have long hated each other. May this marriage be marked as the start of a new time of peace and prosperity between the two cities of Mantium and Atavia."
The priest motioned her forward, and she stepped up and took her groom's hands, looking into his tranquil eyes as she smiled.
The priest cleared his throat. "Courage. Friendship. Knowledge. Sincerity. Reliability. Love. Hope. And light. These are the true values of relationships, and if all these are held, the bonds cannot be broken. These are the parts of human character that we all share, but when these are held between husband and wife, they are that much stronger."
He turned to her, and smiled. "Scythia DeMante, do you vow to uphold these characteristics and hold true to the elements? Do you take Calathur D'Or as your loving husband, to be with you through trial and times of peace, till death do you part?"
"I do."
"Calathur D'Or, do you solemnly swear to love, honour, and obey Scythia DeMante and hold the same vows as she? Do you vow to be her faithful husband?"
"I do."
"You may kiss the bride."
Scythia's red eyes, three years ago bitter and hard from a life lived in the darkness of Mantium, now soft and joyful, locked with Calathur's, and their lips met with smiles on their faces.
Scythia smiled contentedly and leaned back against the peach tree, inhaling the soft scent of petals that would not be able to bloom here without psynergetic aid. She looked out towards the open field, cleared of pews, which was being used as a dance floor. Lynn was dancing in front of her, wearing a low-cut blue dress that shimmered as she moved, and her brunette hair was pulled back in a ponytail. The girl of the sea was leading Calathur in a merry sea chantey, as her sailor underlings, looking uncomfortable in formal clothes, beat out a lively tune. Calathur had been a little reluctant at first, but Scythia had pushed him on and now it looked like he was having the time of his life.
She adjusted her gown and closed her eyes, tapping her foot to the beat and humming the lyrics to herself. Her ears pricked as she heard a faint sound: a quiet twang.
"SCYTHIA!"
Her eyes jolted open as something slammed into the trunk beside her. She turned her head slowly to look at it, and began mouthing silent denial.
It was a black arrow. A black rose was tied to the shaft by a red ribbon, as well as a piece of yellowed parchment. The paper was sealed with a wax insignia in the likeness of a grinning skull.
Calathur came running over, followed close behind by Lynn. He stopped in front of her, his eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay, Scythia?"
She nodded. "Just a little frightened, that's all. Calathur, look," she motioned towards the arrow, and he set his teeth. "There's a paper attached" With one sharp nail, she broke the wax seal and untied the ribbon, letting the rose fall to the ground as she opened the paper, and read aloud:
"Hello, my friends. How are you? Enjoying the celebrations, I am sure. May I offer my congratulations to the newly married couple, Scythia and Calathur? How cute. I had rather hoped you would be together. Who doesn't love a storybook ending, after all? After the war, the two heroes marry and live happily ever after! Hahaha…
Lynn, are you there as well? Of course you are, you would not miss your good friend's wedding for the world, would you? And you brought your little pirates too, lovely. What a little troupe you were, parading across the sea and delighting in your puny victories. Have you seen your father lately, Lynn? I have."
Scythia looked up at Lynn from her hands, trying to ignore that they were shaking. The Mercury Adept had gone pale.
Lynn moistened her lips. "Read on." Scythia nodded and bowed her head again to the paper.
"Ah yes, Desaeis, that old salt. In his current stage of mind, he could not even recognize a Mantrak. How sad! Upon my request, he agreed to fight for us against 'those tyrants who run everything in the world'. I dearly hope you get to see him sometime Lynn, but perhaps your meeting may not be what you expected. Say hello to the other members of your pathetic resistance for me, would you?"
"Bastard," Lynn growled. "Look at that, it's written in blood."
"But back to my to favourite people, Scythia and Calathur.
Calathur, you Sol Adept fool! You should have remained safe in your cowardly city, preferring to be like the rest of your race and avoiding interference with us 'lesser beings' of Weyard. How arrogant! I was there to see the construction of Atavia, I stood by Gazimonus' side as we enslaved your hateful kind and forced them to work for us, in the darkness of Morxez. Pity none of them lasted very long.
I am the oldest and wisest Mantrak, the strongest and fiercest. None can hope to stand against us as we complete our ultimate goal: the resurrection of Gazimonus. And then, Calathur, you will grovel for mercy before my feet. I will look forward to that day, you heathen.
And lastly… Scythia, my dear Scythia. Who would have thought that you could have made such a colossal mistake? You were the sister of Regnoare, in a position to rule by his side in his new world! And what did you do? You sided with the very fools who opposed him. When I myself heard the rumours of your betrayal, I could hardly believe them. I thought, 'Scythia, betray us? The DeMante who was even more vicious and cruel then Regnoare? Who forced the people to bow down and kiss her feet or die a painful death? Who had curtains in her lavish room made of human skin, and various skulls of the people she had slain inlaid on her walls? The same Scythia whose idea it was in the first place to steal Sol Aurarius, or the Golden Sun in your modern tongue, and rule the world with it? The same Luna Adept who even her brother feared? Pah! She would never betray us!'
But then, the rumours were confirmed. Scythia was spotted entering the city of Atavia, that blighted city of fools. I held onto a vague hope that it was all a ruse, that Scythia was merely infiltrating the enemy ranks. I even held onto that hope after she and that blasted Calathur defeated Haures, who we had planned to send to Vale.
'How could this be?' I had thought. 'What fool would be stupid enough to trust Scythia, the Queen of Shadows?' They would have had to have known nothing about her past. Which was believable, I supposed, since no one ever left Mantium alive to tell any tales.
Then, our worst fears were confirmed as we fought Scythia on the battlefield. We saw her destroying her former friends and comrades with a passion! Such treachery! You cannot even begin to imagine the pain our hearts felt at her betrayal.
But then, we received a letter from Scythia. She was simply biding her time, she wrote, waiting for the perfect moment to marshal in our army and eliminate every last soul associated with the accursed Fivefold who slew her brother. She even said she would marry Calathur to fully gain their trust! You then cannot imagine the joy and pleasure we felt. We had lost Regnoare as our leader, but we had gained one even more devious: Scythia DeMante!
If you are reading this, Calathur – and I hope you are – I thought you'd enjoy hearing all the information your new wife had hidden from you. Though I suppose it's too late now: you won't live long. You too, Lynn. Expect to see your father sooner rather than later.
We'll see each other again real soon, okay?
Scyrian
Scythia looked up form her trembling hands, her face ashen and her mouth silently say No. "Calathur, you don't believe this, do you? You believe me, right? The woman you love, and who loves you in return. Calathur…?"
All signs of doubt were wiped from Calathur's face in an instant. "No, my beloved." And he gathered her into her arms, where she began to weep softly. The paper crinkled in her hand glimmered black for a moment, and then dissolved, the last remnants of Luna Psynergy disappearing into her fingertips.
Lynn's eyes flickered downwards for a moment, and she bit her lip. With a twirl of her dress, she turned around and began walking away.
"Lynn! Where are you going?" Scythia called, her red eyes wide.
"Away. There's something I have to check out, it's been too long. I'll return." The Mercury Adept said without turning around.
She walked out of the field, drawing the stares of the other partygoers. Meanwhile, Calathur held Scythia as she wept anew, though unbeknownst to him her lips were parted in a soft smile.
Dim Age XXV, on the Brink of War
Two lone figures climbed a steep cliff, their hands and feet scrabbling for handholds in the loose rock. One was a pale woman with glossy black hair, the other a all man with brilliant blue eyes. Both were dressed in dun-brown travelling clothes and light green cloaks. Night was falling in the sky above, colouring the heavens a dark blue save for a patch of angry red to the north. The rocks beneath their feet were a white marble slashed with streaks of black soot, as if they were burnt.
It was treacherous going, and every so often one of them would nearly slip and fall as a rock gave out beneath them. But the other was always there to lend a helping hand, and so they forged on, each dwelling in their own thoughts.
Oddly enough, their minds were both on the same thing that had taken up most of their attention and energy these past twenty-two years: their children. All six of them, in fact. They remembered the last time they had seen them: one year ago, before their grand and last journey had begun:
flashback, one year before
Scythia and Calathur stood side by side, opposite them five youths of varying ages and demeanours. The oldest at twenty, Gareth stood with one arm looped around his sandy-haired wife, his flaxen hair reflecting the sun as he held a black-haired babe in one arm. This baby resembled his grandmother Scythia, but had his father's strong facial features, while his wife held the baby's twin, who instead had hair a dusty-gold in colour. Both babies were fast asleep.
Beside Gareth stood his younger sister Aurora, who was but sixteen. She was beautiful, with a huge ponytail of auburn hair and starry chocolate eyes. She was chatting excitedly with her younger sister by one year, Turquoise, so named for her hair of the same colour. Standing a bit off to the side from his sisters was a violet-haired boy, barely into his teens. His name was Avian, and he shifted his cloak a bit, trying to stay warm.
Distancing himself from the others even more so was a sullen man, nineteen years of age with hair so dark of blue it seemed almost black, was Hrafn. Scythia was always forcibly reminded of herself at Mantium whenever she looked at him, and the feeling wasn't pleasant. He had the same cold, calculating manner and voice that she heard so often at the city of Luna Adepts.
Scythia and Calathur felt a shared pang in their hearts when they thought of their last child. Taken from them when she was a bare ten years of age, just last week.
One week previous
"Mommy, look!" A dusty blonde-haired girl ran excitedly across the meadow, laughing and swiping at flowers as she ran by. She was chasing after a hopping grasshopper, and things weren't looking so well for the little critter.
Scythia looked up from her drawing as she sketched the scene and smiled tolerantly. "Careful you don't hurt yourself, Alethea." She bowed her head and returned to her drawing, moving the slim charcoal pencil across the paper expertly.
She did not see the shadow that fell from the sky and grabbed her little girl. But she heard the scream.
She looked up instantly, jumped, and began running forward. The little girl was struggling against the iron grip of an imposing creature that was all violet armour. Ornamental wings were spread across its brow, and feathered wings were folded on its back. It held a thin rapier to her daughter's neck, and stretched out its other in imperious command towards Scythia. "Stay where you are, and your daughter will be unharmed." The voice was strange, and seemed neither male or female, yet held a strict tone of command.
"What are you going to do?" Scythia cried out in distress, but her eyes burned brightly with fury, and her hand mechanically clenched and unclenched at her side.
"She is needed. I am taking her."
"Needed? What for? And will I even see her again?"
The figure made a cutting motion with its hand. "That is irrelevant. I am taking her anyway." Flexing of its legs and with a colossal jump, the thing leapt into the air and was soon but a speck in the sky.
Scythia fired bolt after bolt of dark plasma after it, but it was no use. It had gone, and it had taken her daughter. She suppressed a sob, and fell to the ground in despair.
end
Avian had been Alethea's closet sibling, and the bond they shared was strong. He had withdrawn into his own world since the day his younger sister was abducted, and nothing had brought him from it so far.
Past aside, that was not the reason Scythia and Calathur had brought their children together from across the globe. They looked at each other for a moment, Sol and Luna, and then faced their children again.
"Scythia and I have an announcement to make." Calathur said in his usual regal tone.
Scythia nodded, and reached for Calathur's hand. "We are leaving. Never to return, as the gods will it." She held up her hand to silence the gasps and murmurs that came from the youths in front of her. "We have two reasons. One,' she said, but left off and looked at Calathur for support.
The Atavian sighed. "We no longer belong in this world. We have left our mark," he swept his hand at his young man and women in front of him, "and that's the least we can do. We are no longer mere humans: look at us! We have changed little over these past twenty-five years. Surely you have noticed we appear little older than you." The older children nodded sadly. "This is by virtue of the tiny amount of the Golden Sun within us, that we obtained from Haures. And as long as we remain around here, we run the risk of being slain and the murderer absorbing that power. For this reason, we have decided to leave: go out, see the world."
"The second reason," Scythia continued. "Is we shall be searching for Alethea. That monster that took her must have disappeared somewhere, and we will mind it. And make it pay, and bring back Alethea, safe and sound. If we do so, it will be the last time you see us. If we do not," Scythia paused. "This will be the last time you see us."
Calathur stepped forward, and appraised each of his children. "It is time to give you your due, as well as the places that you will dwell in the Dim Age to come. With the blood of both Sol and Luna in your veins, each of you will rise to prominence, and based on your deeds then you will either burn strongly as the guardian of a people, or wither and die. Here are your lands:
"Gareth, my oldest and strongest. You and your wife will continue to live in Vale, guardian the Elemental Stars from harm and keeping the capital strong.
"Hrafn, next of age and greatest in cunning. You will dwell in the shrouded land of Lumeria, with the King Hydros. Quite an honour." The quiet man simply bowed his head in acquiescence, but inwardly he seethed at being sent to the backward Lumeria, which had hidden itself from the world.
"Aurora, fieriest of my children. You, too, shall remain in Vale, to teach you patience, endurance, as well as the wisdom of those who have stayed for centuries. Use these to counter your recklessness, and prosper.
"Turquoise, most graceful and musical of my children. To you I bide travel to the snowy lands of Imil, to guide the remnants of their people there and be their guiding light with their Lord, Vishnar. When the Dim Age comes, weakness and sickness will come often. You must be there to heal the people.
"Avian, silent and swift. Still stirred with grief from the disappearance of your younger sister, I give you an avenue of escape. Go to the remnants of Anemos in the village now known as Contigo, and keep the ways of Jupiter alive." Avian raised his head and stood at respectful attention.
Scythia stepped forward and bowed. "All of you," she spread her arms. "We love you. Live long, and prosper." After hugs and a kiss on the cheek by Scythia or on the brow my Calathur, they parted ways, the girls waving small scarves, and the males standing in a informal salute.
end flashback
Where has the time gone, Scythia thought, as she trudged up the Mantium mountains. One of year of travelling throughout the world, and no sign of her daughter. It was as if she vanished from the face of Weyard. Only signs and rumours of the world's decay, including a number of unaccountable disappearances, of which Lynn was the first.
Everyone remembered that long ago day at the wedding, when Lynn walked off in the middle of the ceremony and was never heard from again, though she was last seen pushing off on her ship with her crew in tow. Scythia deeply missed her, and often thought where she had gone. She hoped the letter Scyrian had sent, the letter that sparked a period of watchfulness and restlessness throughout Weyard, as the people anxiously looked for the rising of Mantrak, hadn't convinced her that Scythia meant harm.
But so far, there had been no sign of the supposed Mantrak: these past twenty-two years had been called the watchful peace, and with good reason. Not a hide no hair of Mantrak had been seen, not even a rumour.
That was part of the reason they had come here. A rumour had said the entire city of Mantium had just vanished from its position, leaving behind nothing but a plain of featureless dirt. Scythia had some initial apprehension about revisiting her home country, but Calathur reassured her. They couldn't revisit his country, anyway, because the blackness of Regnoare's Abyss spell grew day by day, and had long since sealed the way to Atavia.
Scythia craned her head back and reached up for the last handhold. She grabbed the coarse grass the grew at the edge, and scowled as Calathur raced up the cliff beside her. He stood up and swept the dust off his robes. He turned around, and grinned down at her.
Scythia groaned. "Don't taunt me, Sol Adept. Just help me up."
"Okay." He reached down, and she clasped his hand. With a strong heave, he drew her up and put her down beside him on the dusty ground. "How much further is it to Mantium?"
"Just over the next rise," Scythia replied, and took his hand in hers. Together, they breached the final hill, and looked down where Mantium had lain, much like the Fivefold before them.
They stood in amazement for a few moments, and then Scythia spoke. "It's true," she breathed. "The city's gone! Vanished!"
Only a dull, red-brown plain of dirt remained where the dark city of Luna once lay, and Scythia convulsively tightened her grip on Calathur's hand.
Calathur looked down on her with an understanding look. "Both of our cities are lost. Our daughter has disappeared, perhaps for good, and our children are each old enough to lead. There is nothing left for us to do. Through both the sort reign of Regnoare and the Mantrak war, we did our service, fighting on the side of light and justice. We raised our children to the best of our ability, and maybe it's time for them to pick up from where we left off." He led her to the edge of the cliff, where they had a prime view of the desolation and sapped ground that was the effect of Mantium. "Haures' power runs through us. And if that tiny bit of Sol Aurarius has served to increase our lifespan to the point where we hardly notice the effects of aging," he traced one finger over her cheek, which was as firm and ivory-coloured as they day they met. "Perhaps it is not right that we mere mortals hold that power."
Scythia breathed in sharply. "But Sol Aurarius never relinquishes its grasp. The only known way that anyone has every been rid of it – not that they want to- is by…" Realization dawned in her eyes and her voice dropped to a disbelieving whisper. "… Death." She fell silent, and brooded to herself for a few minutes.
At length, Calathur broke into her reverie gently. "Scythia… it may be painful. But this world, this darkness, this coming Dim Age!" He gestured with each point. "It wears on my very soul. We are creatures used to power and luxury, Scythia. Our children were born in the Dim Age, and are of the Dim Age. We do not belong. We can end it. Right here." He waved towards the cliff, and then turned the motion into an extended arm in Scythia's direction, with an questioning gaze.
Slowly, as if in a dream, Scythia reached out and took the hand of her husband, now also the person that would led her to her death. They fell into step beside each other, and made their way to the edge. The wind howled around them, buffeting Scythia's ponytail and stirring the Sol Adept's hair. It was mournful somehow.
They stopped with the tips of their toes protruding out into the abyss, down a sheer cliff with no handholds or angles. Death would be instantaneous and painless at the bottom.
Scythia clasped Calathur's hand tightly. "Ready?" She asked hesitantly.
"As we'll ever be," Calathur said solemnly.
Together, they stepped forward.
Heavy feet crunched into the ground, leaving behind dusty imprints in the red-brown dirt. The boots this man wore were vicious looking, made of black leather and topped with many spikes ridges of silver and gold. His ragged cape trailed in the soil behind him, and he stopped at the edge of the cliff. His hooded head bowed as he looked down the cliff, and he snorted with satisfaction. For their, in the dirt, was the crumpled and twisted bodies of two people, a man and a woman.
Pathetic fools, he thought. Walked right to your own deaths, leaving the rest of the world to fend for itself, bereft of its two greatest leaders. Well done, Scythia. You have served your purpose well.
With a metallic screech, he drew a giant broadsword from its scabbard and marched back the way he came, the black steel engraved with red runes glinting. He came to the top of a hill, and surveyed the land beneath, and the thousands of teeming shadows upon it.
He thrust his sword into the air. "The time for vengeance is now! Scythia and Calathur are dead! Mantrak of shadow, great and small, to war!"
A thousand thousand Mantrak gave a tremendous cheer and thrust their weapons into the air. Ware the world of Weyard for this coming plague: an army of Mantrak bore down upon them, with the legendary Scyrian at its head.
Dim Age CMLXXXVII
The Wise One rested on his favourite spot, the peak of Mount Aleph. From there, he could look out over the world, and marvel how much it had changed since his day.
He was filled with an excitement, as well. He could feel it in his soul, that the day when the Golden Age could be renewed was drawing near. Though the strength of the people of Weyard had reached a new low, like sudden diamonds in the rough he spotted Adepts with the potential to equal their far-off ancestors.
In the town of Vale at his feet, a group of children played together. A five year-old boy with a tangle of brown hair led around a trio of four-year olds in a game of follow-the-leader, his deep chocolate eyes scanning the town with a happy joy as he searched for new places to go. At his heels tagged a girl dressed in tomboyish pants, her auburn hair flowing freely as she giggled and ran after the brunette boy, her older brother.
A boy with a flame of red hair followed close behind, laughing for sheer joy, and behind him, tagging along a bit behind, was a quiet boy with wild blonde hair that went in every direction, and piercing blue eyes.
Suddenly, the boy in the lead tripped, and his little sister behind him fell onto of him. Soon, all the children had dissolved into a giggling mass of roughhousing children, which promptly ended as the girl harrumphed and walked away. But her brother caught her with a flying tackle, and the game began all over again.
A barrel-chested young man stood outside a modest house, an odd expression on his face as he looked out on a boy playing in the yard. The child was barely two years old, with straight blonde hair and the oddest purple eyes that seemed like they stared past one's words and into their mind.
A beautiful red-haired woman was hanging silk rugs across a thin and leafless branch, when the man's voice called to her. "Layana, come and see this."
"What is it, Hammet?" She said, dusting off her hands and walking beside him. He gestured to the boy, and she followed his gaze.
The child was giggling quietly to himself as he raised a hand and lowered it chronically. Whenever he did so, the grass would ripple in front of him and leaves would be lifted into the air. The man could feel the wind from here, and he exchanged an awed glance with his wife. The timing between the raising of the boy's hand and the blowing of the wind was too precise to be coincidence.
"So," the woman breathed. "He's one of the legendary Adepts after all."
"Just like that woman said," he murmured, and resumed watching the boy.
A beautiful young girl sat beside a river in midsummer, her turquoise hair a lighter shade than the water before her. She wore a white dress with a blue sash tied around her waist that matched her eyes. Beside her was her best and only friend, dressed in a blue tunic, was a boy a bit older than her, with cerulean hair and an odd expression on his face. They had been talking on and off for the past hour, and a silence had fallen between them as the boy brooded.
"Mia?" The boy said slowly, and turned to her.
"Yes, Alex?" She said with a curious look, and faced him.
He cleared his throat. "Can I… can I kiss you?"
Mia blushed and stifled a giggle. "Okays."
They leaned towards each other, and their lips touched, if only just for a moment. Then they both leapt back, blushing furiously.
"Well," Mia said, still giggling. "That was something."
Alex smiled slowly back at her. "Again?"
Wa-BAAAM. A massive explosion rocked the bustling desert town of Lalivero, throwing up a cloud of dust just outside the city limits. Warning sirens began to blare, throwing the city into chaos. Faran emerged from his house, calling for order.
As the screams died down and the villagers emerged from their houses, they all began running to the source of the disturbance. One little boy was excitedly crying that he saw something fly down form the sky and crash into the ground. At that, the town Mayor, Faran, broke into a run and pushed aside the guards at the city gates.
As he neared the swirling cloud of dust, he walked cautiously, raising his scarf to prevent from breathing in the floating sand. The ground abruptly fell, and Faran tripped with a yell, and tumbled for ten feet and landed, groaning, in the dust. As the sand cleared, he saw that he was laying in the bottom of a wide and smoking crater. He sighed, and then heard a stifled chuckle beside him.
He turned to the side, and looked eye to eye with a beautiful baby girl. She was very petite, and her skin was darkened slightly, as if by a tan. Her blonde hair lay flat on her tiny skull, and her saucer-wide jade eyes peered at him. She was swaddled in a rich purple silk, that he instinctively knew must be worth a thousand pieces of gold, at least.
Also by instinct, he knew that she, this little baby girl, must have been what the boy saw fall from the sky. And here she was, unharmed.
He sensed, rather then saw, the other townsfolk hesitantly gathering round the crater. He knelt and scooped up the baby, holding the girl tentatively in his arms, as if she was made of fine china. The girl's forehead scrunched up for a moment, and then she looked up and bubbled happily.
Hello, Faran! My name is Sheba! Are you going to be my pappy here?
For a moment, he was stupefied. He had heard the voice in his mind. But that was impossible. But as the girl continued to look happily at him, he thought that maybe it was possible. This was obviously no ordinary girl.
He raised her into the air, ignoring the oohs and aahs of the people around her. "Behold! Sheba, the Child of the Gods!"
A man floated lazily in a pure, cistern-clear river, a dreamy expression on his face. His hair was a deep blue, made darker still by the water. His eyes were a deep amber, like gold, and his muscles were well toned and gleaming from the water.
Perhaps Hydros and Lunpa were right, he mused. Perhaps it was possible. Lumeria wasn't what it used to be, that's for certain. And if it was true, then what then? What could be done about it?
He didn't need anyone to answer that. He knew. But it was a possibility he didn't even want to think of.
But perhaps it was time.
Yes, the Wise One thought. The coming together has begun.
Felix and Isaac of Vale, in the line of Gareth. Garet and Jenna of Vale, in the line of Aurora. Ivan of Contigo, in the line of Avian. Mia of Imil, in the line of Turquoise. Alex of Imil, in the line of Hrafn. Sheba, child of the gods. Piers of Lumeria, in the line of Turquoise.
Of lineage since the beginning of the Dim Age. It was as foretold. The lines of Scythia and Calathur would arise once more, and become as stars.
The others have passed away, the Wise One reflected. It was time to become the guide, and then his task could finally be complete.
The Fivefold Star had ceased its shining, and only a dim glimmer remained. But as old stars die, new ones are born, and they would light the World of Weyard from far above. They would be the bringers of light, the chosen ones.
With a deep sigh, the Wise One turned his gaze heavenward. A cold aura of ethereal brilliance shone around a halo of stars that seemed to illuminate the night sky on their own.
The Pleiades.
And with that, Fivefold Star ends.
Review response time!
SmileyHey, hey, I try to deliver. I just usually write long chapters, that's all. As for present-day… that's what the next fic is about. Since Fivefold Star (prequel) is now over, the present-day will begin. But on a new fic. More on that later.
HEYYeah, I think I'll get in the habit of making review responses from now on. – I tried to tie everything in that way, so I'm glad in turned out okay. As for post-TLA… well, as I said, wait and see.
DracoboltI have a feeling there is still going to be a few typos I missed here. Ah well. Enjoy the chapter, at least, and wait for the next fic.
Important:
As you may know, this fic was originally going to be twice its present rate. But for the sake of neatness and cutting down on the size, Fivefold Star will now be purely prequel, with the second part dealing exclusively with post-TLA. Check my profile for more details.
Pleiades, coming soon!