"Why is the Aeternum plagued with a perpetual rot? Such is a question asked by many scholars, alas to no avail. We know the forest to be where the battle against the ancient evil, the Constellation, was held, but not much of what happened after was recorded. Did the Constellation perish there, its remains corrupting the area until it became the hideous den it is now, or is it a manifestation wrought by the vengeful spirits of all those who perished on that day?"

  —Arch Magus Faust, Ruler of the Augurium Thaumaturgy

  ———

  Lorelai

  “So adorable. So precious. So—”

  A powerful slap sends Celia reeling onto the cold hard floor of the fortress. She collides with a smash and struggles to stand back up, but at least her mental state has been brought back to normal.

  “Lorelai?” she gasps, the shock of betrayal shining in her eyes.

  But Lorelai only laughs at the sight of her star-struck friend. “Careful there, Celia. The Comet’s eyes hold a powerful spell of bewitchment within them. I would have fallen prey to it myself if it weren’t for these twin blades of mine.”

  The two of them currently stand in an isolated section of the fortress. The plan, initially, should have been to safeguard the Comet near the barrier’s core as it is the most fortified layer in the Alexandria. However, after nearly escaping enslavement to the newborn child, she decides it’s best to hold him in a nursery far away from prying eyes lest her people suffer the same fate.

  “Wow, that’s terrifying,” Celia says whilst avoiding the child’s line of sight. “Do you think Ladislava had the same power? If that’s true, then…”

  “I don’t think so. She was said to have rallied the nations together with her might—not through charm. There are stories as well of how she and King Arthur would regularly pummel the other in bitter rivalry, so let’s think positively. The Comets aren’t guaranteed to have the same powers.”

  Lorelai says as such, yet she can’t help but feel a bit unsettled. Could it be the warrior she has strove to embody in both principle and strength has been a deceiver all this time? Perish the thought. For if that is truly the case, then she’s been praising a false idol since her childhood days.

  What is truth? What is fiction? History is a fickle chronicler. The validity of past stories and records can never truly be discerned. In the end, those of the present can only rely on one thing: trust. If they trust that history is as so, then it shall be as believed.

  And Lorelai trusts in the benevolence of her long-time hero.

  “You sure do know how to put someone’s mind at ease.” Celia lifts a finger and carefully holds it before the child. He gurgles excitedly and latches on with his tiny little hand. How cute. “Come to think of it, what’s the kid’s name going to be?”

  “I’m not sure. I thought it best to leave that matter to those jovial elders of ours. Stars know how long it’s been since a birth’s been met with hopeful eyes rather than fear for their future.”

  “Hm, well, that’s too bad. I’ve already thought of a great one.”

  “Oh, and what’s that?

  She pauses, staring at the Comet with a tender gaze. It appears there is no need for the child to bare his star-speckled eyes; Celia is already entranced.

  “A name’s really important: That’s what I believe. It molds us, shapes us into who we’re fated to be, so I’d like it if this child becomes someone who will protect. Someone who will love this world and bring about a future where we can all join hands in peace.”

  “That’s an honorable desire,” Lorelai says. Yet, Celia’s words bring an odd sense of discomfort to her — as if she’s already seen the result of such wishes placed upon one much too young to deny it.

  “Hehe, I’m glad you agree! Which is why I want his name to be Aegis.”

  Aegis. A bulwark, unbreakable and firm. It is his fate to bear the world’s weight upon those petite little shoulders.

  Oh, Ascalon… is what we’re doing truly right? No, I must not let myself think of such thoughts. A leader must not be swayed away from their duty.

  But it is a pity, indeed, for one so small to hold such responsibility.

  “It’s a good name,” she says, burying her treacherous doubt.

  “Right?” Celia chuckles. “I can’t wait until we get back to the capital. Ascalon might just even break that stoic act of his when he becomes a father.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “I mean, doesn’t it make sense? You and his royal stubbornness can adopt the kid and make him an official successor to the throne. The Comet is the only one who can inherit the Wills, anyway. Might as well secure bragging rights about being his mother while you can.”

  “W-what?” Lorelai suddenly finds herself staggering due to an unknown force. How odd.

  “Sure, there’s the ‘Great Mother,’ but who says you can’t be a regular mom? I’m sure even those court geezers would allow it. Heck, we’ve been waiting all this time for Ascalon to make it official, but I guess that coward’s still hesitating for some reason.”

  The sudden curve in their conversation is quite the surprise, but Lorelai has her dignity as a Throne to uphold. She won’t let something like this startle her so easily. “I’m not the only one, then? Who realized it?”

  “It’d be harder to find someone who doesn’t,” Celia snickers. “Who knows? Maybe we can finally force him to propose when we make it back.”

  “These matters take time, Celia. I won’t rush Ascalon until he’s ready.”

  “And when will that be?”

  She pauses, face darkening in acceptance. Perhaps never, but Lorelai is prepared for that. “Ascalon is a man with many burdens and many fears. What he fears most of all is failing to honor the title of King.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Lorelai has worked tirelessly over the years to penetrate the barriers surrounding his heart, but though much has changed for the better, Ascalon is still insistent with maintaining a certain distance.

  “So, I will wait. Until he feels no longer chained to his duties as a ruler, I will stay by his side no matter how many years it must take.”

  Celia attempts to spout something out, but all that’s uttered is a sorrowful sigh. “Are you really happy with that?”

  It doesn’t matter. “I love him, Celia. But to love someone also means to respect their boundaries. To infringe on that would be selfish of me. I don’t want to cause him pain, so all I can be is content with what we have now. That is enough.”

  And she will repeat it however long she must until her words finally match with the ache inside her heart.

  Lorelai turns to the child and listlessly watches him. How innocent a babe is. No worries. No anxiety. He simply partakes in the current moment, perpetually fascinated by the wonder around him and relishing in an eternal period of discovery.

  Alas, the world is cruel. A maelstrom of conflict will soon erupt once his discovery is revealed; and even this peaceful serenity will come to an end.

  Peaceful? Is this… peaceful?

  A premonition. Dread spreads all throughout her body, stinging her senses and stirring her blood forth until every part of her skin is awash in red.

  Something is wrong. Her instincts scream at her, warn her of a danger she has neglected to grasp, but what?

  Peaceful. Yes, it has been rather peaceful, hasn’t it?

  “Celia,” Lorelai mutters. Her friend immediately recognizes her sudden shift in speech and stands at attention. “Have we ever encountered any difficulties while on this expedition?”

  “No,” she replies, also coming to a perturbed conclusion. “I didn’t see anything while scouting above, either. Everything’s been smooth sailing since the very beginning.”

  “Not a single glimpse of Caelum’s legionnaires?”

  “None.”

  Strange, just what is this nagging feeling? Their journey is too uneventful, too bloodless. Experience advises her that such peace is merely an interlude to tragedy, yet everything seems to be going as planned.

  The miasma encasing the forest would, of course, halt the Grand General’s forces, but would that man truly allow the Comet to simply fall into Polus’s hands? No, never. He would devise a plan. A scheme. A deplorable ruse.

  Xeros has hidden himself away in the capital for a reason, but the only method of which he may intercept the Alexandria is by air. And even if he has invented a way for his legionnaires to traverse the skies, there is no possibility for them to have eluded Celia’s surveillance.

  “What am I missing?” Lorelai nervously paces around the nursery, her mind consumed by a cacophony of thoughts. If not by air, then perhaps by land? But it would be impossible for even the greatest warriors to repel the miasma’s influence for long, much less protect a division's worth of soldiers alongside them. That is, unless…

  No. Could it possibly be? There is one man who might just be capable of such a feat, but he should be relegated to the eastern border between Nox Caelum and the Augurium Thaumaturgy. Is Xeros truly willing to risk an attack from the Arch Magus just to retrieve the Comet?

  Lorelai already knows the answer.

  “Damnit. Celia, we need to head toward the deck immediately!” she shouts, charging to the door.

  “Ah, Stars be damned. We missed something didn’t we?” Celia groans, quickly following close behind. It is not too late. There is still a chance to salvage the situation.

  “Indeed. I only hope that my fears are unfounded, but if not, then we have been searching the skies in vain this entire—”

  A deafening shriek pierces their ears from beyond the fortress. Lorelai and Celia struggle to keep balance as the groan of tearing metal floods the halls and envelopes the entirety of the Alexandria in a mass haze of panic.

  Startled cries rise forth from every direction as the two make for a mad dash to the top. An endless slew of bodies pour into the chaotic passageway around them and frantically run about in a messy stupor. Confusion. Hesitation. Doubt. Pandemonium has claimed dominion over them all.

  “All personnel, remain calm and proceed to the designated shelters!” Lorelai barks to the masses until her throat is hoarse and riddled with sores. There is no use in taking defensive positions now, but no matter how much she shouts, the wave never ceases. Knights and Astrologians and all manner of people flash by in an indistinguishable blur. The shriek is getting louder, more demented, as if it’s echoing the growing frenzy amongst the people.

  Finally, the two burst out into the open deck. A cloud of energy crackles before them, levitating high in the air in streaks of vivid purple and shadowing the Alexandria. The storm is expanding by the second; it greedily sucks in the surrounding Creation to nourish its bottomless gluttony. All Lorelai needs is a single glance to foresee a future of ruin, but there is nothing they can do to stop it now.

  “Damn it all!” Celia shouts. “The barrier won’t be able to stop that thing. Come on, think… think…” But no answer leaves her lips. She only pounds on the floor in frustration. “I-I can’t. I can’t find a way out of this.”

  No. Not all is hopeless. If we cannot halt the coming outburst, then all that’s left is to weaken it.

  “Celia, I leave the crew to you,” she commands, unsheathing the twin blades and anchoring herself in place. “Run downstairs and ensure the Comet’s safety. I’ll do my best to protect everyone.”

  “What? Lorelai, you can’t—”

  “There’s nothing else to do. If I don’t make my stand here, then we’re all going to die.”

  It is a leader’s duty to serve at the forefront. And it is her responsibility to bring back home as many sons and daughters of Polus as she can.

  “Fine!” Celia says with a frustrated cry. “But I’m going to come back for you. Just make sure you’re not a puddle of flesh when I do.”

  “I can manage that much at least.”

  With a final, nervous glance back, she parts ways with Lorelai and disappears into the rumbling fortress.

  The cloud expands. The air quivers with weight. The maelstrom above nears its completions; and soon, the light begins to distort as the energy coalesces into a singular, condensed ray.

  Lorelai thrusts her golden blade up high and silences the thumping of her heart until the world around her slows. A second passes. Months. Years. Time spins in an infinite, revolving cycle, until everything is consumed by infinity.

  Then, within the boundless darkness, she takes a breath. The world fills with color once more, and a flaming wreathe descends from the sky to crown the Solgas with its blessing.

  “O’ bountiful mother Cosmos, progenitor of all that is beloved, lend unto thy holy blade an inferno unending, and illuminate the path to the starlit sky above.”

  The forces of Creation answer her call. With a final grit of her teeth, Lorelai expels the roaring blaze into the air. Fire quickly spreads across the darkened sky until it manifests into the form of a miniature sun. All-encasing. All-enveloping. The sun’s radiance bathes the fortress in its golden bulwark and defiantly roots firm as the pulsing ray reaches its singularity.

  A boom ripples across the air, an ear-piercing howl. The end arrives at last, unleashing a deafening beam onto every crack and crevice of the Alexandria. It shreds at the struggling barrier, feasts upon the woeful dregs of light stripped away from the hull, but even so the fortress stands unharmed against the light. Lorelai, however, is not given so fortunate a fate.

  Her every moment is of pure, excruciating agony. Her body crumbles under the raw force of the ray, and blood trickles out from her red-stained eyes. She wants to scream. She cannot scream. She wants to claw at her throat. Her limbs won’t move.

  The pain persists on, and on, until… it all stops at once. Lorelai’s invocation has prevented the ray from harming her people sheltered within; however, she couldn’t stop it from whittling down the foundation.

  With a loud snap, the legs give way, and the Alexandria comes crashing onto the earth and turns the forest below into a barren waste. Plumes of dirt rises up high from the impact, drenching the now-ruined fortress in a layer of muck.

  At the very least, Lorelai has survived. Barely, yes. But she has survived nonetheless.

  I’ve kept my promise, Celia.

  The danger is not over just yet. Get up. I have to get up.

  Lorelai attempts to stand up - ears deaf with a constant, buzzing ring - but her legs fail her, and she collapses pathetically onto her knees.

  Lorelai pounds against the cold steel and attempts to claw her way forward. She doesn’t last for long. Her arms give out as well, and soon, a veil of dust begins to shroud her trembling body, stinging her eyes and blinding the view ahead until everything is but a muddled smudge.

  She tries to fight the drowsiness, to do everything she can to stay awake, but it is no use. There can be no stopping the inevitable.

  Eventually, everything goes dark.