Twenty five years ago...

The birth of a new heir was an auspicious occasion, celebrated by all of Illea and paving the way for a new age in the kingdom. King Holwell and his wife had anticipated the arrival of their first child for nine long months, and when Queen Olivia went into labor, the castle was thrown into an excited frenzy.

Queen Olivia's labor had been far different from the ease with which her pregnancy had progressed. A full seventeen hours of contractions and exhaustion later, the physician at the foot of the bed informed her that it was time to push. There had been some worry, then, that the young Queen was too tired to properly bring a child into the world, but there was nothing left for her to do but try. The process was unpleasant and bloody, as all childbirths are, but the Queen managed, and soon their firstborn son was resting in the hands of their physician.

King Holwell remembered the delight he felt laying eyes on his child for the first time. Standing beside his wife, holding her hand, he wasn't able to see much of the infant – just a head of pale hair, which at first, he believed to be the same blonde curls that adorned his spouse's head. This sense of euphoria, however, would prove to be quite brief, for the solid, warm hand in his had begun to abruptly change in texture and give beneath his grasp.

His wife's voice was shaking when she called his name, and his attention switched from the newborn to his Queen. Her eyes, round and horrified, had darkened around the edges, and as King Holwell watched, her delicate skin began to crack and crumble like an old stone statue. Blood as dark as ink oozed from her nose, eyes, and lips to cascade down her front in a grotesque waterfall. The King was vaguely aware of the physician's shouts, but it was difficult to hear over the rushing in his ears and the sound of his wife's labored breaths.

The way that Queen Olivia's body decomposed before his eyes was surreal. She was remarkably quiet through the ordeal, as was he, struck into some sort of horrified trance. The delicate fingers he cradled between his palms had splintered at the joints and eventually reduced to ash. Her face, once striking and captivating, collapsed inward as an ancient ruin might, and soon, King Holwell was left staring at the bed, empty save for the dust and blood that had once been his wife.

He'd no idea how long he stood, unable to look away, before the poor physician had approached him with the infant swaddled in her arms.

"Your Grace," she whispered, voice wobbling and stricken quiet by the scene which had just played out before them. "I... believe that there is something wrong with your son."

That made sense, didn't it? King Holwell was hit with the realization that the infant hadn't made a sound since he'd entered the world.

Turning his head took a monumental amount of effort, but the King had managed to shift his attention from the ruins of his wife's body to the baby it had just borne. Staring back at him were two unsettling eyes, more focused and alert than any newborn he'd ever witnessed before, but it was the color that bothered him the most.

Its gaze was a piercing blood red, surrounded by a sea of darkness. The cold feeling of dread that settled deep within his chest was akin to what he'd experienced in his youth, staring into the eyes of a pet tigress his father's father had imported from overseas.

He was making eye contact with a predator.

"Summon a priest," the King responded, and was surprised when his voice came out sure and steady. "Whatever that creature is... it is not my son."

Rapture

Present day...

"The Rot has spread well into Hamaes and Taves as well as portions of the provinces to the north and south," the messenger reported, tone grim and resigned. "It seems the borderlines are no longer as effective in keeping it contained."

King Holwell ran a hand down his face, a heavy sigh drawn from his chest. "Have they been renewed recently?" he asked.

The messenger's lips pressed together. "Just last month, Your Highness."

"Then The Rot is growing more quickly." The King leaned his head back against his throne. It was overgrown with black vines, dark veins that leeched color and light from their surroundings. "Have them renewed again. I will consult with our advisors on the next steps to take."

"Yes, Your Highness," the messenger said, and then he was gone, leaving King Holwell alone in his once-beautiful throne room.

There was a time when the castle was not so decrepit and dank, festering with an evil that ate away from the inside like a plague. People would flitter in and out, laughing and dancing and bringing light into what would just be an empty building otherwise. They would host balls and feasts at least once a fortnight – King Holwell had met his lovely wife at a ball, thirty-odd years prior. She was stunning in her crimson dress, pale blonde hair, and hazel eyes. Not royalty, and not whom his parents wanted him to marry, but from the start, he hadn't been capable of saying no to that woman.

Perhaps if he married someone else like his parents requested, none of this would have happened.

The ten years he had spent with his wife were the happiest of his life, but were they really worth this? Sitting on a corrupted throne within a rotting castle at the center of a dying kingdom?

In the years following her death, he'd insist that his time with her was worth anything that might come of it. Now... he wasn't so sure.

There was a gaping emptiness within his chest where his heart used to be, and a vast hollowness in his stomach. It had long since stopped growling for food.

Gone were the days of feasts and twelve-course meals – anyone near the center of the kingdom was lucky to eat once a day. The outer provinces weren't far behind, what with The Rot creeping out and infecting their crops and orchards.

Gone were the days of dancing and merriment and countless people to keep him company. Now, it was just himself, his son, and the beast that roamed these halls.

A mass exodus might be the best course of action at this point, but... where would they go? The mountains to the north were too hazardous this time of year, and he doubted they had enough ships to sail the sea to the south. Besides, what would it accomplish? Would The Rot simply stop at the imaginary boundaries that made up their country?

Would Arrian stop?

Oh, how he despised that name. The priests had suggested it in hopes that the meaning might influence the creature into becoming something it was simply not. It had failed – there was nothing holy about the beast that carried the moniker.

The door at the end of the room creaked open, scraping harshly on the dusty floor. Whatever was intruding hadn't knocked – it never did, really.

Speak of the Devil...

Arrian had grown relatively tall and lean as it aged. Its hair had grown long and curly, far more unkempt than the hair of King Holwell's and his true son – the two of them shared the same soft waves, but The King held no real resemblance to the creature in his throne room. Its tresses were far more akin to the woman who had borne it, but King Holwell had been incorrect in his initial assumption of the color. What he first thought was the same bright blonde as his wife's locks was instead an unearthly white, tinged duller with dusty gray at the ends.

And those eyes – vermillion on ink – were the same as they were when it had invaded his life.

It smiled at him upon approaching, slinking into the room with a slow, calculated stride. King Holwell was reminded, once again, of the tigress his grandfather kept in the castle. The large cat was long gone now – as a child, he'd been frightened of her, and his grandfather, ever indulgent, sent the wild thing away immediately.

He still wasn't certain what had become of her.

"Your Majesty," the beast greeted and crudely bowed, teeth sharper than would be deemed natural for a human. The kind of teeth that could tear your throat out if you weren't careful.

King Holwell was careful.

"I did not send for you," he stated, hands tightening on the armrests of his throne. They did not crumble, as his wife's hands had. "What business do you have with me?"

Arrian lifted its chin with an expression radiating smugness and silent challenge. It wasn't a surprise that the creature was so improper – evil things rarely cared for propriety. "A son isn't allowed to visit his father?" he questioned, gaze half-lidded and honed in on King Holwell's own. "Perhaps I just wanted to see you."

"You are no son of mine," the King stated firmly, knuckles white. "If you have nothing of importance to say, then you may leave."

The entity hummed thoughtfully and turned its back on the man to waltz over and stand by the west window. Its hair was kept in a loose ponytail, swept to the right and exposing the stained white wrappings enveloping its throat.

Vermilion light spilled through the stained-glass angel that guarded the opening, dappling Arrian with an amalgamation of colors and darkening his silhouette. The sky hovering the castle had been leisurely bleeding crimson, and King Holwell tried not to think too hard about the implications.

"I've heard the borderlines are fading quickly these days," Arrian stated without looking away from the holy artwork. "Do you need more of my blood to renew them?"

It wasn't an empty offer. Arrian had been cooperative so far in sharing lifeblood, though King Holwell suspected there were ulterior motivations at play. There generally were when it came to the predator standing before him.

"We have enough, for now," the King responded, curtly. "It might be pointless to ask for more if they are no longer working."

"Smart," it hummed. "I've always believed I'd gotten my intelligence from my father."

The King's eyes narrowed. "I am not your father," he repeated.

"My mother, then," Arrian amended, shrugging its shoulders. "I have heard that Queen Olivia was a brilliant woman."

"She is not your mother." While he always attempted to keep his emotions in check when speaking to the beast, he couldn't retain the vehemence that crept into his inflection as his wife's name fell from that cursed creature's mouth.

Arrian turned, then, and King Holwell pointedly ignored just how much it resembled the late Queen. Fine, pretty features, wild hair, sharp eyes; though objectively beautiful, its appearance was irrelevant – just because its features were similar to someone the King once loved did not make it any less evil.

"I've no father, and no mother," it stated, a strange amusement in its scarlet gaze. "Where, then, did I come from?"

"Where, indeed," the King said bluntly.

Teeth flashed, sharp and white, as the creature smiled and shoved gloved hands into the pockets of its worn trousers. It had never cared much for the finer clothing that often-adorned King Holwell and Prince Asher.

"Perhaps I've come from where all evil things originate," the beast began, tone as neutral as ever as it strode toward the throne. King Holwell sat still, never breaking eye contact. "Such a shame Hell won't take me back."

They tried everything to rid themselves of this monster. Exorcisms, burning alive with holy oil, freezing, starvation, draining of blood... nothing ever harmed it for too long. The only thing that had proven halfway effective was the Seal that the exorcists placed upon its body to help mollify its powers, but even that wasn't permanent. They had been warned of that when they originally placed it there.

If the country were more devout and clung harder to the religious texts that it had been partially founded upon, perhaps the purging of evil would have been more effective. Most of those texts had been lost to time, fire, or misplacement. The belief in angels and demons still remained though not many would be able to say what had been originally contained in the holy books.

There was a verse, though, that the King could recall with startling clarity. It had been a warning of the end times, somehow undamaged from the original texts. It had often been told to scare naughty children but King Holwell never met an adult outside the inner sects of the church that believed it:

And thus, the Beast shall make its emergence, and there shall be famine and freeze, and the sky shall turn to blood, and It shall bring upon the End of All Things.

Staring into this monster's dark eyes now, the King was convinced it was true.

After several moments of silence, tense and heavy, King Holwell deigned to speak again. "What have you actually come here for?" he asked; Arrian rarely showed up for no reason. For all of its bad qualities, it didn't invade the King's space often and instead decided to haunt the castle's grounds.

"Oh, right," it sang, as though it had actually forgotten what it had come here to say in the first place. Manipulative. The beast straightened up and tugged the dirty wrappings from its throat, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor. "The Seal is closing."

It had been a long time since the King feared the beast, but as he stared at the Seal carved over Arrian's Adam's apple and scabbing around the edges, terror slammed into his empty chest.

The Seal was healing.

"But you shouldn't worry too much," the monster said in a tone that was clearly mocking pity and leaned in a bit. "After all, you've got those Nephilim all trained up now, don't you?"

Of course it knew of the Nephilim – that creature had encouraged the idea, actually. Arrian always seemed interested in things that were meant to kill it, though King Holwell suspected that interest stemmed from the perverse enjoyment that it drew from taunting weaker creatures.

Truth be told, the King was unsure if the Nephilim were ready. Sure, they had plenty of practice with the influx of cult followers that sprung up after Arrian's birth - summoning demons into their own bodies and condemning themselves eternally - but those possessed individuals were nothing in comparison to the danger that resided within the castle. No amount of training was likely to prepare them for Arrian, he thought grimly. Still, he thought they would have had more time.

Apparently not.

"We will summon the Nephilim," King Holwell confirmed. It meant nothing that Arrian knew of their impending arrival – it wouldn't change the outcome.

Arrian's eyes flashed, and a grin split its face. "Excellent. Will they be commanded to kill me?" it questioned, tilting its head to the side and looking far more pleased than it should, considering the circumstances.

"Kill or purify," the King responded. "Whichever is easier for them."

"Oh, how merciful," Arrian drawled, straightening its posture again. "Allowing a monster like me to live after all this existing I've done? You must be a saint."

The King squeezed his eyes shut. "I will have no say in how they handle the situation," he growled. "If they choose to let you live then that is their prerogative. Thank them if they do and know that I would not be so kind."

"I wonder if they'll be pretty," Arrian said, as though the King had not spoken at all. "I mean, they'll have to be, right? Angel blood and all that. The surviving texts describe them as beautiful."

With a heavy sigh, King Holwell dragged a hand down his face. "Please try to refrain from seducing the Nephilim," he grumbled. "They are not interested in you."

"Perhaps they might be, if they got to know me," it stated, tone playful and cloying. "Remember the pastor you sent last? He hardly took any convincing and I had him in my bed." It licked its lips, tongue as black as its sclera. "Besides, I'm only really interested in the men, though I could make an exception for a woman, should she be pretty enough. You know my preferences."

"You are a vile creature," the King said, ever appalled by the casual way it spewed its vulgarity. "You shall not corrupt these Nephilim."

Without warning, it stepped up the stairs before the throne and leaned over Holwell's seated form, poised just inches from his face. Rare was the occurrence where the man felt intimidated but sitting there with an adversary looming above him... for a moment, he felt lower.

"You presume you have the ability to tell me what to do? How cute," it crooned, vocals honey-sweet and dripping venom. Its hands were still hidden within its pockets. "You never have understood the position you're in, have you?"

Holwell's throat was too dry to speak, so he simply stared up at the creature, struck silent.

A self-satisfied smirk curled the corners of its lips, and it leaned back on its heels. "I like you better when you aren't talking," it purred. "And for the record, I will do whatever I want. This Seal won't last forever, you know, and whatever semblance of control you have over me now will cease to exist. Who knows what I'm capable of, without this pesky limitation you've made for me?"

It turned its back on him again and stalked to the door, clearly content with how the conversation had played out.

The man was preparing to relax when the beast halted in its tracks and paused midway between rooms.

"I am looking forward to meeting these Nephilim of yours, though," it called over its shoulder. "Maybe they'll succeed. Maybe you'll be rid of me forever, just like you want." Those eyes flashed as it grinned at him, all unnaturally sharp teeth. A predator. "Good luck, Your Highness."

With that, it continued its stride, and the door slammed shut behind it.

Holwell – King Holwell – gasped out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his chest expanding for the first time in over a minute.

They weren't ready – the Nephilim – and they might never be. It was too soon, too abrupt and too powerful for them to handle, the King was sure of it. They'd die, or be corrupted, or quit before they had a chance to try, and this world would cease to exist.

"God help us," the King breathed, staring at the blood lit angel on the stained-glass window. "Please, God help us."

Rapture

AN-

Thank you for reading the first chapter of Rapture! This story will follow twelve half-trained Nephilim as they struggle to either kill or purify what is essentially this universe's version of the antichrist. Some will want him dead; some will want to save him; some will want other things entirely! There will be layers upon layers to all the feelings, actions, and consequences in this fic, so I'm hoping for some really complex, varied characters!

This story was inspired by we holy few by OctaviaWithStarsForEyes, The Earth, Devoured by izar ilunak, and Veins of Ichor by rosealdawn! If you want to read some AMAZING writing, please go check out these phenomenal writers.

First off, some information:

This is set in a sort of fantasy-Victorian era, so think mid-late 1800s England.

Nephilim are human beings that are descended from Angels. There are likely many Nephilim throughout the Provinces, but as of twenty-five years ago, children and newborns began to be tested for the telltale golden blood that runs through each Nephilim's veins. The brighter gold it was, the stronger the powers would be. So, over time, one Nephilim from each Province was chosen and trained by not only the few remnants of the church, but also what military Illea had at its disposal. Most training was done spontaneously, as more and more threat of demonic activity would pop up. The birth of Arrian had compelled many people to summon demons to possess them and were twisted into grotesque monsters as a result. If there wasn't much demonic activity, the Nephilim would simply be forced to exercise their individual abilities, sometimes even against the other Nephilim from neighboring Provinces. Nephilim are treasured in their Provinces and are praised as saviors.
The reward for their service in eliminating Arrian, either through slaughter or purification, is to have all of their needs met, along with the needs of their Province. They will be heralded as holy creatures and will never have to struggle for anything for the rest of their lives.

Demons are spiritual entities from beyond the veil. Some are wild creatures and will reduce their host to a drooling, malformed animal the second they overtake the body. Others are smarter and can remain hidden in their host for months to years, depending on how sneaky they are. All demons will consume blood and raw meat. The wild ones must be slaughtered, but some of the more intelligent ones have been exorcised – usually through intimidation or convincing.

Angels are thought to be entirely extinct now, but they were once powerful creatures that protected the Provinces in Illea... or so the story went. At some point, they either shared their blood or reproduced with humans, and made an entirely new race, known as Nephilim.

Most people in Illea are not religious at all – or, they weren't, up until the creature that would bring upon the end of the world was born. Now, many have turned to religious texts and are desperately praying, hoping that someone out there is listening. They do not have a god to turn to, so they pray to Angels, and when that doesn't work, they pray to Nephilim.
Things like gender and sexuality are quite fluid in this society, so there should be very little bigotry on that front.

THE PROVINCES

Barlocke is a flat area, with some hills toward the north. It was once, just twenty-five years ago, a prosperous area, wonderful for farms and orchards, but is now completely overrun by Rot. It still has a fairly dense population – the most of any Province bordering the Capital – and it remains a popular site for merchants to sell their wares. The people here are strong, stable, and tough.
-The Angel of Barlocke is Barlam, who rules over earth, stone, stability, and fortitude.
-Traditionally, Barlocke was connected with Laiten, Nuvein, Zuvess, and Carault.
(RESERVED)

Aradale is a warm place, very plain and simple. There are plenty of hills and some deciduous forests, but for the most part, it was a grassy flatland, ideal for raising livestock. It is not so, now – instead, The Rot has spread throughout, and while people do still live here, they must rely on neighboring Provinces to provide food and supplies. The people here are quiet, gentle, and typically quite kind.
-The Angel of Aradale is Araphel, who rules over mercy, kindness, gentleness, and charity.
-Traditionally, Aradale was connected with Azreach and Rannet.
(RESERVED)

Jeholt is a rugged land, densely forested and formerly prosperous, as they are located near the foothills of the mountains. The forests now are bleak and bare, reeking of death where there used to be so much life. The Rot has not driven out the people, however, and the ones that inhabit it are strong-willed, determined, and courageous.
-The Angel of Jeholt is Jehann, who rules over justice, strength, and victory.
-Traditionally, Jeholt was connected with Hamaes, Taves, and Sarlet, though their ties were tenuous.
(RESERVED)

Laiten is a fairly uneven area, packed with cobblestone streets and unbalanced houses and large city squares, perfect for parties. Of the four Provinces close to the Capital, Laiten is the one who has kept up the cheeriest attitudes – they did not grow livestock or crops, previously, and instead created art in the form of music and dance. The people here are lively, vivacious, and easygoing.
-The Angel of Laiten is Laia, who rules over sound, music, vibrations, and joy.
-Traditionally, Laiten was connected with Barlocke, Nuvein, Zuvess, and Carault, though their closest ally was Carault.
(RESERVED)

Nuvein is a rocky land, littered with hot springs, waterfalls, and uneven terrain. The Rot has begun to leech past their border with Laiten, and the springs there are cold where they were once hot, but Nuvein is mostly untouched, and their towns to the far east grow excellent herbs to create medicine. The people here are peaceful, calm, and value connection with others.
-The Angel of Nuvein is Nusha, who rules over healing, serenity, peace, and rejuvenation.
-Traditionally, Nuvein was connected with Barlocke, Laiten, Zuvess, and Carault, though they were closer with Zuvess and Barlocke.
(RESERVED)

Zuvess is a beautiful land, lush with wildlife and nature. There are dense forests, wide open plains, and plenty of space to grow crops and orchards of all varieties. It is almost entirely untouched by The Rot for the time being, with most of the spread on their west border with Rannet. They have been struggling with providing enough food for the other Provinces. The people here are easygoing, friendly, and down to earth.
-The Angel of Zuvess is Zuriah, who rules over nature, fertility, plants, and animals.
-Traditionally, Zuvess was connected with Barlocke, Laiten, Nuvein, and Carault, though their closest allies were Barlocke and Nuvein.
(RESERVED)

Rannet is a land flooded with water, with cities that appear to be floating, cut through with canals. The people get around on boats, for the most part, and the only really solid ground is either stone or marsh. They are the country's main source of seafood. Rannet is beginning to become infected with Rot, however, stemming from a large river that runs straight into the Capital, along the borders of Aradale and Barlocke. The people here are proper, reserved, and value balance above all else.
-The Angel of Rannet is Rani, who rules over water, lakes, oceans, and harmony.
-Traditionally, Rannet was connected with Aradale and Azreach.
(RESERVED)

Azreach is a warm, mellow place, mostly comprised of grasslands and sand dunes. Not particularly good for growing much of anything, but a place that feels calming nonetheless. The people here are typically scholars, and value knowledge and learning. They're a quiet people and generally prefer to be left alone. Azreach is the Province with the most highly religious individuals. The Rot is spreading quickly into the Province, spurred on by its border with Rannet.
-The Angel of Azreach is Azrelle, who rules over life, afterlife, purity, and wisdom.
-Traditionally, Azreach was connected with Aradale and Rannet.

Hamaes is a rocky place, warm from the fact that there is a surprising amount of seismic activity in the area. Geysers and forest fires are not uncommon here, and the land is quite dry. The people of this Province are brave, standoffish, blunt, and passionate, and not the most welcoming. Some of the best soldiers in all of Illea have come from Hamaes. The Rot has begun to spread into this land, though it is less affected than most.
-The Angel of Hamaes is Hamalt, who rules over fire, war, destruction, and passion.
-Traditionally, Hamaes was connected with Taves and Sarlet, but their connection was strained.
(RESERVED)

Taves is at the foothills of the mountains, and while some of the dry land from Hamaes leeches upward into it, it is packed with evergreen forests and underground caves. There is an air of danger about Taves, and it is eerily quiet. The people here are typically spaced out pretty far from one another, though there is a singular large city at the very base of the mountains. Taves people are reclusive, aggressive, and defensive, and do not like to be bothered.
-The Angel of Taves is Tavat, who rules over darkness, shadow, solitude, and mystery.
-Traditionally, Taves was connected with Hamaes and Sarlet, much as they would rather not be.
(RESERVED)

Sarlet is a cold, mountainous area, chilly throughout the year and difficult to navigate. If you aren't careful, you might slip and fall into one of the chasms that split their Province apart. They've built bridges over most, but they are prone to icing and can be hazardous. Still, the people of Sarlet are clever, and they do not struggle while traversing their homeland. Like Taves, Sarlet people are widely spaced out, but they are quite helpful and willing to go out of their way for their neighbors. They have multiple large cities, and are highly populated for how unforgiving the land is. The Rot has overtaken their southern edge.
-The Angel of Sarlet is Saren, who rules over ice, snow, winter, and secrecy.
-Traditionally, Sarlet was connected with Hames and Taves, though they did not get along.
(RESERVED)

Carault is, like Sarlet, very rocky, snowy, and mountainous, but it is much less difficult to traverse. There are fewer people here, placed in small towns, mostly toward the north and east of the Province. The people here are free spirits, openminded and playful, and can be quite flighty. This is the only Province who is completely unaffected by Rot.
-The Angel of Carault is Carick, who rules over air, wind, sky, and freedom.
-Traditionally, Carault was connected with Laiten, Barlocke, Nuvein, and Zuvess, but was closest with Laiten.

Please keep in mind that each of the personality traits of the Provinces and the virtues of the Angels are merely suggestions, and you are completely free to align your characters' personality with those, or forego them entirely to create someone who is nothing like their Province at all! The only thing that must connect in some way is that the power the Nephilim must align with something their Province's Angel rules over. If you happen to reserve a Province and would like something changed or added, I am completely fine with discussing it!

Rules

1. First and foremost, I am doing reservations, but I'd like for you guys to either PM me on ffn or DM me on discord with the idea that you have for your character. Please include two or three Provinces that you'd be interested in, a brief personality description, gender, and powers based off of the Province's Angel. I want to make sure everything fits really well with the story!

2. Characters must be between the ages of 22 and 30.

3. Any gender or sexuality is welcome! I want a lot of variety here.

4. Please keep both personalities and powers balanced. I want flawed characters and flawed powers – no one is perfect!

5. Please take your time with this form! The deadline is very loose for now, but I'm going to tentatively set it for March 1st. I want a lot of detail, please – I'll expand on this in the form.

6. Only send forms through ffn, please. Docs are prettier, but I personally prefer getting them in PMS here. You can always send both a PM and a doc!

7. When you submit your character, please title the PM (Rapture – [Character Name] – [Age] – [Province]) so I can keep things organized c:

8. Have fun! You're always welcome to message me with ideas, plot with me, or even just say hi! I'm looking forward to writing this story and interacting with all of you. The form can be found on my profile!

WARNING: This story is rated M and will contain heavy mature themes, such as sexual content, violence, horror, and much more. You must be over the age of 18 to send a character to this story.

PS – I am still continuing Guilty, so if you guys are reading this, don't worry – I'm already planning the next chapter!

I'd like to give a huge thank you to my partner, Yu, for editing and helping figure out all this detail, as well as Logan, who has been a major help as well!

Thank you for reading, and Happy New Year!

van