Aegis

“The Order of the Unfettered Seraph are Polus’s prized guard - the very reason why the antiquated nation still remains strong against the currents of time. Grand General Xeros’s forces are powerful, cruel and designed for conquest, but the knights of the Seraph hold one key trait that not even he can overcome so easily: wings.

“Truth be told, I am unsure how it is the Seraph manifest their wings. Creation is a force - a sprawling ego of divinity - and though it may hold limitless potential, it also begets endless complexity. Perhaps that is why not every Polus knight can take to the skies, but those able will find themselves lauded as the nation’s elite.”

- Arch Magus Faust, Ruler of the Augurium Thaumaturgy

———

Lorelai

When Cosmos sheds a tear from beyond the veil, and the forces of Creation hither forth a new era of prosperity—

A Comet shall be summoned by the earth and sky.

They will bring change to the world and rally humanity together under a single banner.

They shall strive towards the astral realm up high.

It is an old, old fable - a bedtime hum sung to Lorelai in the years of her youth. The song is a promise from the Mother to her children, but to the once little girl with eyes still awash in a memory of a sea of flame, it is merely an icon of false hope.

Polus must bring about their prosperity through their own strength, not from a legend of which history has scarce record of. No, they need a figure that is tangible. That is real. They need a guiding light they can truly see with their own eyes and cast their woes upon with their own voices.

Because false dreams only lead to mournful awakenings.

Yet, in but a brief, ephemeral moment, the legend becomes real. The fable becomes reality. The citizens all about the capital rejoice through the night in a joyous reverie of celebration. They sing, they dance, and they give thanks to the Stars above whilst crowding the streets in a swerving mass of laughter and cheer. Lorelai is happy for them. She truly is. Because though she doesn’t want to admit it, the little girl inside her still so desperately yearns to find that ray of light herself, and now it is within her reach: a way to end this war once and for all.

But for now, she needs rest. In the endless halls and corridors that plague the Polus castle, there is a tiny room filled with the smell of musty parchment and aged ink. Inside, books and various records are lined atop little wooden shelves, covering every single bit of surface on the hazel walls and forming a cluttered, but organized, miniature library. The room is her home; Ascalon has tried to get her to move into a larger quarter, but she can’t bring herself to leave the hearth she’s resided in since the day of her rise to the ranks of the Seraph.

Memories are a fickle thing indeed, but they are precious. The moment Lorelai opens the room’s faded door, she is swathed in the sensations only wrinkled scrolls can provide. It is a great comfort - one that cannot ever be replaced - especially after a year’s absence where all she’s met with since is blood, oil, and steel. The only furnishing not related to her pastime of literature is a small mattress, bare of creases for she has spent more time by the desk-side than in the comfort of a warm blanket. However, today the bed’s call is particularly alluring.

Lorelai collapses atop with her armor still clad and slowly begins to drift off to slumber. There is an endless sprawl of matters to attend to once the morning breaks. It can wait. After all, there is no greater way to refresh the mind than a nice, long nap.

———

Lorelai

The sun’s morning light gently trickles in, pattering Lorelai’s body with soft rays of amber when a knock at the door begets a raspy groan from her dry throat.

Alright, it’s time to conduct yourself like a proper Dame, Lorelai.

With her eyes aflutter, she quickly rises from the bedside and clears her head of the night’s stupor. A leader must always be prepared to act with haste and a clear head, no matter the time or situation. It is also rather embarrassing to be seen at one’s messiest. Though she must act with grace befitting that of a Throne around her subordinates, home is a sanctuary where she may finally let loose the more unkempt aspects of her heart.

“Lorelai? Am I intruding?” Ascalon’s voice emits through the narrow cracks.

“Ah, just one moment,” she says, scrambling to clean the neglected messy corners. With a raise of her finger, she focuses her thoughts and whispers a plea of assistance to the air around her.

“I welcome you, oh tranquil breeze of the rising morn: Please cleanse me of grime, and let this room sparkle with sheen anew.”

A sudden wind skirts around the aged books as little specks of dust and dirt flow out of the room and into the bright blue sky of the world outside. Lorelai’s armor glistens with newfound polish, and her body becomes alleviated of weight - the pollutants carried away by the gale. After a quick word of thanks to Creation’s benevolence, she opens the door and is greeted by the fatigued shadow of Ascalon, his eyes dim with a darkened charcoal.

“…Care to explain yourself?” she sighs at the all too familiar sight. “It seems a year’s absence has left you forgetting my words.”

Ascalon attempts to let out a light-hearted chuckle, but the hoarse strain from his throat exposes a sleepless moon slaving away by the candlelight. “Haha. Unfortunately, yesterday’s revelation was not a matter I could so easily delay - especially when it may just concern the fate of our kingdom. May I come in?”

“Of course.”

The haggard King stumbles inside and steadies himself by Lorelai’s deskside. With a deep heave, he looks up and grabs a book off to the side.

“The Nebulas… to think this old fable’s prophecy would occur in my lifetime, ” he says. “I’ve scoured through every ancient record in the archive still intact, and yet nary a hint remains for where the Comet’s fall may be.”

“Have you spoken to Gadreel and the elders yet?” she asks. The older members of parliament are more familiar with the legends; they’ve always been a superstitious bunch, much to Lorelai’s dismay, but no fountain of knowledge goes untapped it appears.

“In brief. Rather, I’ve spent the better part of the dawn ensuring the stability of the court. It’s a mess currently; confusion, panic, and excitement are all spreading like wildfire among the people, so I’ve called the castle’s residents to an assembly at the noon’s peak. Hopefully we may garner possible clues in the company of others.”

He shuts the book with a jolt after a drowsy dip of his head startles his addled mind and quickly stands back up. Lorelai cannot see his face, she can feel his embarrassment plain as day.

“Ehm, moving on,” he coughs. “I wanted to get your thoughts first before the decisive hour. I know no one else as knowledgeable as you when it comes to the written works.”

“Hehe, then I’m afraid I must let you down. I never really was one for fairy tales; the Nebulas is just a keepsake from my mother.” She never could bear to throw it away, even after all these years.

Lorelai ponders to herself for a moment. What scrolls depicting the previous Comets that haven’t yet been burned or erased from history are paltry in detail. There are only a few odd constants:

The Comet shall always return, even after death.

The Comet shall don a different appearance upon its every rebirth.

And the Comet shall be forever pursued by the wretched atrocity chaining humanity to the earth: the Constellation.

No further sightings of the vile warden has ever been documented since The Night of Crimson Tears. Is it still among the living? Even if so, not a record remains of what it’s true appearance may be. It must have perished there amongst the forest of lost souls, for how sorrowful would it be if the alliance of mankind’s best turned out to be all for naught? A death for a death. And from the ashes, life blossoms anew.

Perhaps…

“Hm,” she grunts. “I may have a suspicion.”

“Truly?” Ascalon says. “That is great news. Then let us depart to the throne room so we may prepare—”

But before he can utter anything else, Lorelai quickly grasps the sluggish King by the waist and effortlessly tosses him atop her bed.

“What?” he begins.

“Ascalon, sleep for a spell,” Lorelai commands. “There are still some hours left. Leave the rest of the preparations to me.”

“But…”

“I am not taking no for an answer. Now, close your eyes.”

He tries to protest, but his efforts are in vain. He should know better than anyone else how stubborn she can be.

“…Alright. But only for a little while.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, he collapses onto the pillow with nary a jerk of movement and falls completely silent. Slumbering.

Sweet dreams, Ascalon. When you wake, everything shall be settled.

———

Ascalon

Ascalon sits at his throne - mind refreshed with clarity anew - and bids for the enthusiastic attendees in the room to be silent. Lorelai stands guard off to his side, rigid, and attempting to exude an air of elegance, but it is apparent even she cannot resist the fierce atmosphere. A childlike spirit has entered the hearts of all after the fateful moment yesterday, and though the King cannot blame them for being giddy upon witnessing history in the flesh, there cannot be any further delay.

“Everyone, please be seated,” he speaks, voice echoing with authority. “Now, on to the matter at hand… yes, the Comet has descended. And we would be fools to not pursue this glimmer of salvation, but their location is still veiled. I have gathered you here all today so that we may uncover a possible lead to their landing together.”

And it is imperative they do so soon. The Grand General’s retrieval of his troops now all but makes certain his foreknowledge of the savior’s coming. But how? It is troubling that Xeros’s insight extends far beyond his own, but Ascalon cannot dwell in doubt. If that corvid knows where the Comet’s true location may be, then all the more haste to decipher it now.

“Let us start with you, Gadreel. As the eldest among the court officials, do you have any suspicions?”

The chancellor practically bounces with excitement as he takes to the center. “Hohoh, you can count on this old man, my liege. I was quite the connoisseur of legends back in my youth, especially those concerning the budding years of humanity’s beginning. If this noggin of mine still holds true, then one common link between the heroes of old is that they were always found isolated away from the civilizations of man.”

“Isolated you say?”

“Yes, indeed. The Comet of the Dark Era was said to have been born in the wilds of the Antiqua, where they were raised by the beasts of the earth before being found by the Chieftess of that period.”

Lorelai taps her foot absentmindedly during the Chancellor’s jubilant speech before eventually allowing her zeal to take hold. “I’m quite curious. Where did you learn of such origins? I’ve perused through the entire archive, but the only information I could find was about the previous Comet.”

“Ah, that is because it is not in writing, my lady, but in song.”

Gadreel clears his throat and turns to face the puzzled faces of the masses. In an instant, a bafflingly eloquent serenade spills forth from his lips.

⸻

“Over the mountains, brought from the sky

A bundle of warmth, of Star, cast out a cry

Here doth layeth O’ child of small grace

Heed these words of our gentle embrace

‘Fear not the darkness, fear not the beasts

They are thy guardians, restless in peace’

In the wilds of ancient rest

At the gate of summit’s peak

Thy path shall one day open

Thy way shall be set free.”

⸻

With a flourish, he bows to a soirée of fierce applause from all over the court. Even Ascalon can’t help but break into a smile. To think he was hiding such a skill from me, that shrewd old gentleman.

“Books and scrolls can be burned,” Gadreel says after a moment to collect himself. “But the memories of the people's pasts live on, inherited as a keepsake of our ancestors. Ah, speaking of the previous Comet, I believe they are the only one we know the actual identity of. Dame Lorelai, would you be so kind as to enlighten us?”

Lorelai lets out a small chuckle at Gadreel’s teasing and strides to the center herself. “Well, I can’t refuse such a polite request now, can I?”

Lorelei unsheathes her twin blades and clashes them together near her chest. With a whisper, the Solga and Lunas begin to glow an incandescent light before manifesting a human-like phantom of gold and silver into the air above.

“These two kids still remember her well,” she says as the figure dances with joy above them. “Beloved Maiden of the Sunrise: Ladislava the Charitable. She was a warrior, teacher for the Umbral Throne of Twilight: Valkyrie, and the former master of these blades I always seem to depend upon. Ladislava was found in the desert to our east, where the Augurium Thaumaturgy’s border now resides; the wandering tribes only discovered her after being battered by scorching heat and storms of sand, but after receiving their love and care, she grew to be a true protector of humanity. She was the very symbol of hope.”

Lorelai dissipates the phantom and puts the celestial weapons back in their scabbards. There’s a longing in her gaze as she watches the illusion disappear, and though Ascalon wants to reach out to her, he feels it’s better to leave her be.

“Hohoh, I still remember the days when you would run about the castle playing pretend,” Gadreel guffaws. “You were the fierce warrior Ladislava, and the poor castle servants acted as minions of the dreaded Constellation.”

Lorelai freezes, no doubt with a blush on her face, and coughs out loud to interrupt the chancellor. “You still remember that, Gadreel? That was a time long ago.”

“For me, it was only yesterday,” he murmurs. “In fact, one battle you enacted often was the—”

Gadreel suddenly pauses, veins bulging out of his face as Ascalon witnesses the elderly man’s brain working in stride. He runs his hand through his thick goatee and whispers something to himself before raising his head, eyes sparkling of revelation.

“Perhaps…” he begins. “Yes, that may just be the answer after all.”

“It appears you’ve made the same conclusion as I,” Lorelai says.

“You too, my lady? Hohoh, it is good to see that this old man isn’t just thinking of hogwash after all!”

Ascalon stares at the two, confused, as they both share a moment of reluctance. They seem hesitant to unveil their findings, but why?

Battle? If it concerns the Comet Ladislava, then would it be…

A place far, far away from the towering structures of man.

A place where the Comet can be naturally safeguarded from the forces of the world.

A place of death, of unrequited agony, and a sickening sanctum of the cursed miasma.

“The Aeternum,” he says out loud in a sudden jolt of epiphany. “There lies no other location in this world more isolated than the forest of decay.”

A nod from Lorelai and Gadreel marks the unfortunate affirmation of Ascalon’s discovery. Of all places…

Disbelief. Hesitation. Nervousness. A cacophony of voices drown out the surroundings. The very name brings a shadow to the court members’ eyes for The Aeternum is a forbidden land—abandoned and forlorn of all life. None may enter. None may leave. At least, not without sacrificing their sanity.

“Hah… I suppose it is a given the Stars blessing shall not be obtained easily,” Ascalon mutters. “None of our ancestors past have ever successfully charted an expedition through that tenebrous grotto. I fear our efforts will be met with the same; it is too dangerous.”

He desperately wishes for anyone to judge him incorrect - to provide an inkling of possibility for their success - yet even the ever jovial Gadreel appears to shrink in his pessimism.

“If only I could voice otherwise, my liege,” he says with a rare futility. “But you are correct. With that dreadful miasma plaguing every corner of the forest, even the most stalwart of our knights would succumb within a moment’s rest.”

The young official from before, Dariel, pops up seemingly out of nowhere behind the Chancellor’s back and attempts to shake the life back into him. Unlike the others, his eyes still hold a clear determination.

“This isn’t like you, sir!” he shouts, delivering a hardy slap to the elder’s cheek as the court attendees gasp in surprise.

“Ah, confound it, boy!” Gadreel roars with his usual boisterousness, reeling back with red shading his face. “I don’t particularly enjoy wallowing in dejection, but there is naught much else we are capable of at the moment.”

“Surely you won’t surrender so vainly? The grandfather I know would never let his spirit be smothered without a fight.”

“Dariel, what did I say about referring to me in such a manner whilst in a session? It is wholly inappropriate.”

“But I must if it means bringing out your fiery self! Perhaps if we knew the exact cause of the miasma…”

The chancellor sighs and pats Dariel's shoulder with a tired hand. “If only it were that simple. No one knows what that dreadful mist truly is. A parting curse from the Constellation? The restless souls of all who perished on that terrible night? It matters not, for all it takes is a brief moment for the mist to invade the body and deteriorate it from the inside. Even if the winged knights of the Seraph were to fly above the haze, they would have to land on the ground eventually.”

“No, there is a way,” Ascalon slowly murmurs. “With the authority of The Monarch’s Wings, then I would be—”

“Ascalon,” Lorelai suddenly interrupts. “Your power isn’t enough alone. Unless you were to bring an entire order’s worth of knights, the protection granted would not last for long. And…”

She pauses. Ascalon already knows what is coming next. Again and again and again, it comes. Like the lash of a whip, it stings all the same.

“…We need you here. The citizens need you here.”

He can see it pains her to spew the words forth, but Ascalon does not fault her. She is simply doing her duty, as it is his to stay within this gilded cage.

“Must we truly be forced to let go of this hope?” Dariel pleas to the sea of bowed heads and cluttered hearts.

“Oh, my boy,” Gadreel attempts to reassure. “Think not of it letting go, but rather to plan for another day. The Comet has just been born. There shall be plenty opportunity in the future to seek them out when the time is right.”

Perhaps this may not be all for naught. Not even the Grand General has the ability to traverse the Aeternum; if we cannot safeguard the Comet in our kingdom, then I would prefer to let none abuse the child’s power.

But that isn’t what Ascalon truly wants. There it lays in front of him: the chance to finally fulfill his purpose. His destiny. To finally be of use and to let free this gnawing sensation of worthlessness, yet the world is bidding him to avert his eyes. To look elsewhere.

There has to be another way.

“I will go.”

A command. Unyielding, forceful, and without a shred of doubt. Thus Lorelai has decreed, and her tone offers neither an opportunity for rejection nor further deliberation - as if it were set in stone from the very beginning.

“…What?” he manages to mumble after a stunned second.

“I will go, Ascalon. For now, let one of the order’s Templar fill my vacancy—”

“No. No, I… Lorelai, surely you just heard of the danger? Not even the power of the Celestial Twins adorned on your hip can safeguard you from the miasma. I cannot approve of your departure.”

I cannot lose you as well.

But Lorelai only descends onto her knee and faces him with a piercing gaze full of resolution.

“My liege,” she says, voice foreign with an unfamiliar harshness. “Bid forgive me for my insolence, but truth be told, I have already arranged the necessary preparations during your slumber. It shall arrive soon.”

The floor beneath them begins to emit a rumbling tremble. Far outside, a faint groan trickles into the air, step by step, until it transforms into a deafening roar. Ascalon quickly turns his head towards the stained glass, and there, towering into view outside the city walls, is a titanic citadel of blinding steel. It is as if the sky excavated an ancient castle and placed it atop a colossal mound of earth, shadowing the entirety of Polus and blocking out the sun’s shine. Strange steel pillars bend and creak at the mound’s base, mimicking the appendages of a creature of flesh, and a metallic grumble oozes from every corner of the monument. It is an imposing sight. Wondrous, yet terrifying. Dreadfully so.

“By my word,” Gadreel whispers. “I never would have thought that monstrosity would ever see the light of day.”

Lorelai steadily marches in front of the King and bellows out a powerful cry to the dazed members of the audience.

Ah. I see now. From the very beginning, I wasn’t needed here. I didn’t even have a choice.

“Here me, sons and daughters of Polus! We need not languish in despair any longer. I, and my personal elite guard of Seraph knights, shall embark to the Aeternum before the spring’s end. The miasma is a terrible blight, but it is not infallible. Trust in me, and trust in the might of the Moving Fortress Alexandria.”