Universe (H)-01 | Plane of Mortal Men
Class-Five Restricted Planet: C-53/SR/R3-O2
Pompeii | Campania, Italy | 79 a.C.n.
Once upon a time, in the days when the earth was young and magick flowed through the veins of the world, there existed a kingdom nestled at the foot of a mighty mountain. This mountain, known as Vesuvius, stood tall and proud; its peak crowned with eternal snow and its slopes lush with verdant forests.
The people of this kingdom lived in harmony with nature, their lives intertwined with the rhythms of the land and sky. They prospered under the benevolent gaze of their king and queen, completely unaware of the ancient secrets slumbering beneath their feet; for deep within the heart of Vesuvius, and far below the surface where no mortal man dared venture, lay a hidden realm of wonder and enchantment. And in this secret chamber, bathed in the warm glow of molten rock and the soft luminescence of precious gemstones, a being of immense power and grace lay in a deep, dream-filled slumber.
His name was Valerius, and he was a Sheathshifter; his form that of a magnificent dragon with scales as vibrant and lustrous as the very seas.
For centuries untold, Valerius had rested undisturbed within the mountain, his dreams filled with visions of bygone eras when magick was a tangible force and the very world was a place of boundless mystery. He had witnessed the rise and fall of civilisations; their fleeting shadows dancing across the grand tapestry of Time. His presence was but a whisper in the fabric of the earth, his breath a gentle exhalation of sulphurous vapours. The mountain's heartbeat was his very own, and together they slept; guardians of an ancient and forgotten power.
Above, in the kingdom of Pompeii, life flourished. The people built grand temples and bustling markets, their lives a vibrant mosaic of human endeavour. They knew of the mountain's majesty - but not of its guardian. They revered Vesuvius as a divine presence, offering prayers and sacrifices to ensure its continued tranquillity. Though their rituals were mere echoes of a long-forgotten pact, one that Valerius had sworn to uphold in the distant past.
It was a fateful day, one that began like any other, that the delicate balance of this world would be shattered, however.
The sun rose over the kingdom, casting its golden rays upon the bustling city. Merchants hawked their wares in the crowded streets, children playing games in the shadows of the grand amphitheatre, and the heady scent of savoury dishes wafted down from the taverns. The city was alive with the hum of humanity - and completely unaware of the cataclysmic force just shimmering beneath the mountain's surface.
Yet far below, within the hidden realm of Vesuvius, the air had grown heavy with a foreboding tension. The very magma veins that threaded through the caverns began to pulse with a new and unsettling rhythm, as if the mountain itself had been stirred from its ancient slumber, and the very dreams that had Valerius wrapped within their embrace turned... troubling. His massive form stirred, cerulean-blue scales shimmering with an eerie light as his slumber was disturbed by a dissonant tremor - a discordant note in the very symphony of the earth.
Yellow-gold eyes, like liquid sunlight glowing with their own unearthly light, slowly blinked open. Valerius lifted his mighty head, his senses sharpening as he became acutely aware of the chaos unfolding around him. The heartbeat of the mountain, once a steady rhythm that did reverberate within his own chest, now pounded with an erratic and violent force.
Something... something was oh so terribly wrong.
In the depths of his ancient mind, Valerius recalled the pact he had sworn to uphold - the Vow he had willingly taken to protect the balance of the world and to guard the mountain's secrets. But it seemed that the mountain was no longer at peace. It was restless, a cataclysmic force threatening to unleash untold destruction upon the mortal world above.
With a snarl now twisting his scaled lips, and with a powerful, sinuous movement, the mountain's guardian uncoiled his massive body, rising to his full height. His wings, vast and leathery and glittering under the light of the cavern, unfurled with a sound like thunder; snapping open and casting long shadows upon the walls. And his breath, now hot and sulphurous, mingled with the rising heat of magma.
The chamber shuddered around his mighty form, and Valerius knew he had no time to lose.
The dragon moved with grace and purpose through the labyrinthine tunnels of his subterranean home. The glowing veins of magma lit his path, casting an otherworldly glow upon his scales. He could feel the mountain's agony, its very essence tearing apart as molten rock surged through new channels, and his heart ached with a mixture of fury and sorrow.
Vesuvius, his ancient home, was under threat, and Valerius would not stand idly by.
As he ascended through the winding caverns, the intensity of the heat increased, the ground shaking with great ferocity. Valerius' keen senses detected the presence of intruders - beings not of this time or place; their presence naught but a ripple in the very fabric of reality. He could hear their frantic calls echoing through the tunnels, but their words were lost in the cacophony of the mountain's awakening.
Valerius finally emerged into a vast chamber, its walls glistening with molten rock. And there, amidst the chaos, he saw them; alien beings of living stone, along with their mortal accomplice - a traitorous human who had knowingly aided them in their nefarious scheme. The dragon could see it all in his mind's eye, the magical threat of the Pyroviles' machinations weaving through the very heart of the mountain. They were drawing power and heat from his domain, from the very life-force of Vesuvius, and using it to fuel their insidious plans; rocky forms all but glowing with stolen energy.
Gilded eyes narrowed, the dragon's rage building as he realised the source of the mountain's distress.
His connection with Vesuvius - with the very earth - allowed him to see all that did happen within his domain, both past and present, and before his very eyes the very conversations that had taken place; the deceit and manipulations that had brought the Pyroviles to finally reveal themselves-
Valerius suddenly understood, with a single, heart-stopping realisation, the terrible choice that did not only lay before him, but also the very one whose presence resided within the spherical, unnatural machine they had trapped themselves in.
If the mountain erupted, it would indeed stop the invaders and very devourers of Vesuvius' powers. But it would also destroy the kingdom that lived at the mountain's base.
Yet...
If the mountain did not erupt, the dragon felt that his most ancient but honoured Vow would become void, for the Pyroviles would burn the planet, leaving naught but molten rock in their wake, and the mortal inhabitants of Pompeii would perish anyway.
A deep growl suddenly tore through Valerius' throat, his fury rising with the realisation of the injustice before him. The mountain's agony mirrored his own as it trembled, and his resolve only hardened. He had to act, to fulfill his most ancient Vow and protect the balance of the world, and with a roar that shook the very foundations of Vesuvius, its guardian unleashed his fury.
Wings beat with tremendous force, sending gusts of hot air through the chamber, and the Pyroviles turned; glowing eyes widening with fear as they beheld the wrath of the mountain's most ancient of secrets.
Valerius' claws slashed through the air, tearing through the Pyroviles' defences like their stone and rock bodies were naught but parchment; tearing and shredding with each and every swipe. His breath, a searing torrent of heat and fire and magick, engulfed the alien rocks, overwhelming their life-stealing abilities and reducing them to nothing more than molten slag. The human accomplice tried to flee, but the dragon's tail swept out, knocking the mortal to the ground. Golden eyes burned with righteous anger as Valerius brought his massive form to bear on the intruders, his roar echoing through the caverns.
The ground shook with increasing violence as its guardian's fury was unleashed. Molten rock, like a fiery red river, surged through newly-created channels, the pressure within the mountain building towards an inevitable eruption. Yet, and amidst the rage of the volcano, Valerius' heart continued to ache; the knowledge of the destruction that would soon befall the kingdom he had sworn to protect weighing heavily upon his soul.
But the dragon knew that there was to be no other way.
As Vesuvius' once snow-capped peak, now naught but burning rock and fire-riddled slopes, glowed with an ominous light, Valerius burst from its depths, his massive form bursting from the mountain's summit like a comet scorching its way through space. His roar echoed across the land, a sound filled with both sorrow and fury. The eruption was unstoppable, a force of nature that would cleanse the world of the Pyroviles' corruption.
However, and as he rose into the sky, amidst the chaos and the destruction, something caught the dragon's attention.
It was small, almost unnoticeable amidst his rage and sorrow, but something tugged at his heart - his very soul.
And then he saw it, a small yet powerful bubble of magick shimmering near the base of the mountain; magick that, Valerius did realise, was being drawn from his domain - magick stolen much in the way of the Pyroviles.
Rage reignited within Valerius, and his wings collapsed, folding against his side before he - dropped; falling like a stone through the mountain's fury. And with an almighty growl that resonated through the tumultuous sky, his wings snapped back open, breaking his descent. The ground trembled as he landed with a thunderous crash, his massive form towering over the small yet powerful bubble of stolen magicks that shimmered at the foot of his mountain, and his gilded eyes were ablaze with righteous fury as they locked onto the source of that stolen power; a... witch?
The dragon's breath caught in his throat as he gazed upon the mortal female. Her petite form stood tall with defiance, her hands outstretched and palms facing the sky as she chanted ancient incantations - channelling the very magick of the mountain through her slight form. Yet her eyes, a shade of blue so light that they could have been stolen from the very skies, seemed to reach into Valerius heart, a heart that had lain dormant for centuries, as they met his golden gaze - met his golden eyes that had reignited with the knowledge that she was indeed drawing power from his very domain, siphoning its magicks much like that of the Pyroviles and using it as her own.
But a thread of confusion tempered the dragon's rage.
Something about this mortal was different, something in the way her presence rippled through the fabric of the lands - of Time itself.
And then he noticed it - the scales on her left forearm, shimmering blue and an exact match to Valerius' own.
Gilded eyes widened in shock, the dragon's massive head jerking back in his surprise. This mortal, she was not just a witch; she was connected to Valerius, to his magick in a way no other had been before - in a way he could scarcely comprehend. Though, and before he could ponder further upon this discovery, Valerius startled as he heard a voice in his mind; clear, resonant, and echoing with a familiarity that had his heart aching anew.
Photon, the witch did dare to call, using his True name. And the sound of it, so rarely spoken; forgotten by those who now did tread the earth, pierced through his fury. Photon, please. I know you are angry, and I understand why. The Pyroviles threatened the balance you swore to protect, but I beg you to look beyond your rage and see reason.
The girl's plea, filled with urgency and raw emotion, resonated deep within the dragon, and he hesitated; wings partially unfurled whilst his breath, naught but smouldering heat, wafted over her protective bubble as he leaned in once more; looking closer at not just the witch, but at the very strands of time that wove around her.
She was there, in the present, yet she had also been inside that strange machine deep within the mountain, caught in a temporal flux.
The witch was not of this time, yet she existed in it; a paradox that did tug at Valerius' ancient senses.
And her scales - his scales...
Who are you? he demanded, his voice but a rumble of thunder that sliced through the mortal's mind. And he watched with no little curiosity as her eyes widened with surprise, as if she hadn't actually considered he'd reply.
M-my name is Eithne, she told him, her mental voice now trembling but resolute. I come from a time far from this one, and I have been set back to protect those who cannot protect themselves. The Pyroviles sought to destroy this world, but I swear to you, I mean no harm. I am only trying to save them. To save us all.
Valerius' mind reeled with the implications of what the witch, Eithne, was saying. She had somehow travelled through time - with a piece of him within her. Her presence, her determination, and her fear all mingled into a complex tapestry of emotions he found he could not ignore, and golden eyes softened; rage ebbing as the dragon perceived upon the truth in her words - in the very flickering currents of time that did surround her.
Had he not sworn to protect that balance of the world, to guard the secrets of the mountain and protect those who did live upon its lands?
With a deep, sulphurous breath, the dragon came to a decision.
Without a word, he extended a single claw; gently touching upon the edge of the magical bubble protecting Eithne and those with her. The enchantment shimmered, responding to his touch, his familiar magick - and a connection was suddenly formed; a bond of trust and understanding that transcended Time itself.
Eithne's eyes widened as she felt the dragon's power mingling with her own, helping to strengthen her resolve.
Together, we shall shield those who cannot shield themselves, Valerius' voice rumbled through her mind, filled with a determination that mingled with his genuine curiosity. Though we must act quickly. The mountain's fury cannot be contained for long.
Blue stared into gold, Eithne swallowing before she nodded her agreement; fear being swiftly replaced by a newfound sense of purpose. She closed her eyes, her face scrunching up with her concentration as she pushed out even more with her magick, feeling it intertwin with Valerius' ancient powers - and the protective bubble expanded, encompassing more of the terrified villages who had sought refuge near the base of the mountain.
As the ground shook with increasing violence and the sky darkened with ash and fire, Valerius threw his head back and let loose an almighty roar; not of anger, but in a declaration of his Vow. And with a powerful spread of his wings, he moved to fully shield Eithne and those their magick was protecting, his massive form casting a protective shadow over them as he began to draw upon the very powers that the witch had been channelling and amplifying it with his own.
The protective bubble shimmered and expanded, the combined magick of dragon and witch weaving together in a seamless dance of power. The eruption raged around them, the ground continuing to tremble, yet within Valerius' embrace, they were protected - safe. The mountain's volcanic fury could not touch them, and the dragon's presence helped temper its destructive forces.
Eithne's eyes snapped open the instant she realised what Valerius was doing, her light blue eyes wide with awe and gratitude. And she whispered her heartfelt thanks in his mind, the echo of her words trembling with emotion. Thank you, Photon. Thank you for saving them.
Valerius lowered his great head so he could meet her gaze, his golden eyes glowing with a mixture of sorrow and hope. I protect my own, he revealed as his breath ticked the scales of Eithne's arm, his gaze flickering to the unusual sight before returning to those sky-blue orbs. And you, Eithne, are more connected to me than I can hardly perceive.
Universe (D)+01 | Plane of Mortal Men
Class-Five Restricted Planet: C-53/SR/R3-O2
Cirque des Mōr Rēowa | Swynford, Alba | 979 a.C.n.
The scene flickered, the colours of the dragon's cerulean scales and the fiery eruption of the volcano fading into the background as the magical illusion dissolved into wisps of shadows and smoke; lights coming back into focus. Gasps and applause echoed through the crowd as the final images of Valerius and Eithne, locked in their protective bubble, faded into the aether; children's faces alight with wonder whilst adults shared nostalgic smiles. And the performer standing in the centre of the ring, a wiry illusionist dressed in a sequined jacket, took a deep bow, his arms spread wide in a gesture of flourish.
"Thank you, thank you, witches and gentle-wizards," he called out, his voice carrying easily through the enchanted room. "And thus concludes the tale of Lord Valerius and his Lady Eithne, a story of bravery, magick, and an ancient bond that saved a kingdom."
Among the audience, a young girl with crimson-red curls and wide yet curious silver-grey eyes sat enraptured. Eithne Þēodnes, barely seven years old, clutched tightly at her mother's hand, her excitement scarcely contained as she turned to her parents.
"Did you hear that?" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with awed delight as she tugged at her father's sleeve with her other hand. "The witch was named Eithne! Just like me!"
Isabella, the girl's mother; a graceful woman with matching fiery curls and kind eyes, shared a look with her husband, smiling as Lufþegn rolled his eyes in exasperated amusement.
"We did hear that, sweetheart," the witch replied warmly, her gaze returning to her overly-excited child. "But did you know that I named you after the witch in that very tale?"
If it were possible, Eithne's eyes grew even wider at her mother's admission. "Really, Mama?" she asked, her voice filled with her growing awe. "I really am named after her?!"
"Aye, little lass," her father confirmed as he reached over to ruffle her hair affectionately. "Yer mother loved that story so much that she wanted to pass on a bit of its magick to you. And now you see why. It's a tale of courage and adventure, just like the spark we see in you."
"Your grandmother used to tell it to me before bed," Isabella added. "And when you were born, I just knew that you have to have a name that was just as magical and brave."
Eithne turned back to the stage, to where to illusionist had now started another tale, his voice weaving an intricate web of magick and mystery. The six-year-old could hardly contain her excitement, her small body almost vibrating with the newfound connection to the illusionist's last story, and she asked, "What happened next, Mama?" not wanting to miss a moment of the unfolding narrative, even though the tale had shifted. "Did the dragon and the witch save everyone?"
Behind her, Isabella took a deep and unseen breath, exchanging another glance with her husband. The tale of Valerius - of Photon and the witch known as Eithne, it was one of Isabella's most cherished, yet the truth behind it was far more complex and less comforting than the whimsical performance on stage. She leaned down, plucking her daughter from her seat; smiling at the slight shriek of surprise Eithne released at the action, before she sat her down on her lap, an arm coming to wrap around her waist for both comfort and to ensure Eithne wouldn't fall.
"Eithne, my love," Isabella began, speaking softly and causing her daughter's expression to become curious almost instantaneously; seemingly knowing that whatever she was about to be told, it was something serious. "The tale of Valerius and Eithne is filled with bravery and magick, yes. But it is also a reminder that not all stories have simple endings."
"What do you mean, Mama?"
"The story we heard tonight, like all tales... they often change over time," her mother explained, smiling softly despite the way her heart swelled with both love and the weight of the truth. "The one we heard tonight is a beautiful version, but the real tale has more depth and lesson."
"You see, lass," Lufþegn added as he swapped seats, sliding into his daughter's and beside his wife before wrapping an arm around both Isabella and Eithne. "Valerius and Eithne did save many people that day, but their story didn't end with the eruption of the mountain. They made great sacrifices to protect others, and their bravery came with a cost."
"What kind of cost?" Eithne questioned, her eyebrows furrowing as her young mind tried to grasp the concept.
Isabella tightened her embrace around her daughter. "The magick they used to save everyone from the wrath of the mountain required a lot of their own energy. They poured their hearts and souls into that protective bubble, ensuring the safety of those within. But in doing so, Eithne's spirit was said to have become part of the very magick of the land, and Valerius... well, he disappeared."
Silver-grey eyes widened even as pale features fell, understanding dawning on Eithne's young features. "So, they didn't get to live happily ever after?"
"Not in the way you might wish," her father interposed with a gentle shake of his head. "But that doesn't make their story any less important or beautiful. They became legends because they did what was necessary to protect others, even if it meant they couldn't be together in the way they might have wished."
"It is said that Eithne's spirit protected the lands she had loved for generations to come," her mother revealed. "While Valerius, though continuing to uphold his Vow and protecting the mountain's secrets, travelled far and wide; seeking the one whose his scales did adorn."
Eithne's eyes brightened with possibility. "Did he find her?"
Isabella could only smile at her daughter, brushing a wayward curl from her forehead. "That part of the story is still being written, my love. You see, the witch of whom Valerius had met in that protective bubble was from a time that had not yet passed. She was from the future, a future where their paths are said to be destined to cross again."
"So, they will meet again?"
"Aye, they will. Valerius is still said to be out there, embarking on a journey guided by the very magicks of the land and the bond they shared. Though separated by time, their connection was - is very strong, and the dragon knew that one day, he would find the witch who wore his scales, the Eithne of his future."
"And just like in the story, magick has a way of bringing those who are meant to be together back to each other." Lufþegn tightened his embrace around his wife and daughter, his voice soft and filled with love. "Valerius journey is one of hope and determination; a quest to find his other half."
"Does that mean, even if they weren't together at the end of the story..." Eithne's face scrunched up as she tried to make sense of what she was being told. "...their tale is not over?"
"Exactly, love," her mother replied with a smile. "Their story is one that continues even to this day, filled with new adventures and discoveries. Valerius' search is a testament to their bond, showing all that true connections can transcend the very boundaries of time and space."
Eithne's expression turned thoughtful for a moment as her young mind processed the story's deeper meaning. "They were still heroes, then, even if they didn't have a happy ending?"
"Absolutely," Lufþegn confirmed. "Their heroism lies in their willingness to do what was right, even when it was hard. They show us that true courage often comes with great sacrifices."
"And that is why I named you Eithne," Isabella interjected. "I wanted you to carry a piece of their bravery and magick with you. To remind you that even in difficult times, you have the strength within to make a difference."
Silver-grey eyes widened before sparkling with pride and determination, Eithne straightening her shoulders. "I want to be brave like them, Mama," she declared. "I want to help people too."
Isabella's heart swelled with pride, and she hugged her daughter tightly. "I know you will, my love. You have the same spark of magick and bravery that Eithne had."
As they spoke, the illusionist continued to weave his tale, his voice carrying through the enchanted room. The flickering lights and wisps of magick danced around, casting an ethereal glow over the crowd, and Eithne's attention was drawn back to the wizard.
Nestled between her parents, her silver-grey eyes alight with a renewed sense of purpose, she asked, "Can we stay and listen to the next story? Maybe there's another brave witch or dragon in it."
Lufþegn chuckled, sharing an amused glance with his wife. "Of course, we can, lass," he agreed, ruffling his daughter's hair once more. "Stories are how we learn about the world and our place in it. Each one has its own lesson to teach."
"And remember, Eithne," Isabella reminded, "You have you own story to write, and just like the tales of old, your journey will be filled with challenges and triumphs. But we'll be here, every step of the way."
The young girl smiled, her heart filled with the warmth of her parents' love and the inspiration of the very legends she cherished. And as the illusionist's voice continued to reveal another tale of magick and adventure, Eithne was ready to listen and dream; her mind already well on its way to crafting the first chapters of her own story, one she knew would be filled with its own bravery and magick.