Ifrailian Tales

Fate | Betrayal

   Flowers bloom, flowers wither and flowers die.

   Why do they continue to exist if it’s utterly meaningless.

   It’s because while short, the time when they are in full bloom.

   They’re beauty is unmatched.

This was the mantra of the Mynris bloodline. An rather unimportant bloodline in the hierarchy of Seraph society. Relegated to nothing more than a voice among many within the congregation. Unable to generate any real change to the world, drowned out by the many content with the state of things. Content with everything about us being determined by beings beyond our comprehension, the divine.

Mynris however have harbored a deep resentment of the gods since the catastrophe known as the century of bloodshed. Conflict with untamed beasts, who were the physical embodiment of c*****e. Millions of lives wasted, cities toppled, and families devastated… and our so called guardians, they just watched. Hatred tends to breed action, and for the last three hundred years Mynris worked effortlessly to save their race from the lord's destruction.

Hisyld Mynris, the current head of her family sits in wait. This current hearing of the congregation is dragging, more so than usual. She held herself back, painstakingly considering everything the counselor had to say. After all she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn’t allow anything improper to shame her bloodline. Even so, the counselor’s voice was rather relaxing, like a gentle lullaby. Try as hard as she might, Hisyld was no match for her heavy eyelids…

“Hisyld,” a voice cut through the black void of unconsciousness. She opened her eyes, everything seemed in place, the counselor paused his speech and along with the rest of the members, they all shot Hisyld disapproving glares. Was the voice a figment of her imagination? Suddenly, the hearing chamber began to shake violently, knocking small objects off shelves. All present looked around, puzzled expressions painted over their face.

“No-” the counselor’s cry was cutoff by a massive chunk of stone crashing into him. Similarly, other sections of wall smashed into her fellow members snuffing out their existences. Hisyld shielded herself from a hail of smaller rocks, leaping out of her chair, narrowly dodging a piece of rubble that fell from the ceiling. She scraped her knees against the stone floor, stumbling into the center of the hearing room. Right next to the edged boulder that flattened the counselor.

“Hisyld!” She c****d her to the right, where a large hole had been punched through the structure. Standing outside the congregation's headquarters, was a giant humanoid mechanized war machine. The sleek steel that composed it’s build was coated in gold, there was only one Battle Unit that fit this description.

“Grot! What is the meaning of this,” Hisyld demanded, raising her arms beginning to channel mana through her veins, preparing for a battle. To her surprise however, another voice came out through the Battle unit’s speaker.

“Aw come on now, that’s no way to talk to the guy who just saved your life.”

“Todri?”

The small voice within the Battle unit chuckled, “The one and only.”

“I don’t understand…”

Grot pitched in, “Look at the other congregation members.” Befuddled, Hisyld glanced behind herself, where a fellow seraph had been impaled with a particularly jagged piece of stone. A gruesome sight to behold, but upon further inspection there was a glaring omission to the corpse. There wasn’t a single drop of blood, in fact, none of the bodies had spilled their red body fluid. Once the female Seraph made this discovery, each and every mangled carcass fizzled out of reality.

“What in the… Familiars?” It all clicked, these weren’t the actual members, they were hollow clones. Decoys intended to lure Hisyld into a false meeting, and it had worked. There was only one question that remained, who set the trap? In hindsight the answer was so obvious it pained Hisyld. Today’s meeting wasn’t unusually mundane or anything of the sort, there was magic at play. The counselor had struck like a snake in the grass, seamlessly weaving magical incantations into his words. Clever, but luckily for Hisyld, her allies proved themselves capable.

She turned to face them, with newfound clarity on what had just transpired. The large hand of the Battle unit pushed itself into the destroyed building. Hisyld stepped into the welcoming hand, which pulled back, it’s complex construction allowed for movement identical to any organic. Hisyld climbed up the machine’s forearm, continuing until she stood atop it’s broad shoulder.

“How did you both find me,” Hisyld said.

Todri laughed, “A little interrogation goes a long way.”

“An hour ago, all bloodlines that were publicly associated with Mynris were attacked. Methods seem to vary, Todri’s estate was stormed by inquisitors. I was subjected to magical bombardment.” Grot’s voice peaked towards the end, clearly suppressing his rage. However, Hisyld didn’t have time to dwell on her friends' well being. If Grot and Todri’s bloodlines were assaulted, it goes without saying that the Mynris estate had been raided. She had no living relatives or siblings, that was not the issue.

“Do you have the-”

“We have the catalyst,” Grot interrupted, “But there is a more pressing matter, they’ve discovered the spire.”

“Damn it,” Hisyld slammed her fist into the battle unit’s neck. Her anger and frustration bubbling up to the surface. The head looked to the side, through it’s lens Hisyld could spot Grot and Todri sitting side by side. Yes, this was what she was pursuing, the metaphorical blooming of her friends, and more importantly, Seraphs as a whole. These two, they had put their reputation, their very lives on the line for a ritual that was not guaranteed success. Even though the repercussions of their alignment have become bluntly apparent. They still believed in Hisyld’s dream, this, in it’s own strange way, was beautiful.

“Your orders, Mynris”

“Well I-” Before she could finish her sentence, a low rumbling stole everyone's attention. The ruble within the council chambers began to levitate. The boulder that crushed the counselor started to vibrate, rapidly. With a c***k, the rock shattered splattering the fragments everywhere. The head whirled back around, the counselor shakily stood himself up. Blood streamed down his forehead, painting his face.

“The roof,” Hisyld barked, Grot nodded and fiddled with the Battle unit’s controls. The magically powered machine raised its arm, then smashed what remained of the roof in. Covering their aggressor in another layer of debris. Down below civilians fled the destruction, no doubt alerting the local security force. Grot thought the same, as he reared the golden mech back, the massive limbs causing the planet to shake with each step. Hisyld’s orange locks of hair flew in the wind, standing atop her golden knight as they headed towards the end, the spire.

The spire, a towering spiral of metal and stone. All intertwined within, a marble of Seraph architecture. Constructed south of Revet, the capital of Seraph society at the center of an expansive body of water. This intimidating tower has been undergoing construction for the last decade, hidden from the world thanks to the efforts of an extremely elusive magus, dressed in black. And yet, after all the planning, all the effort crumbled within a single day.

Fifty five infantry units waited. Equipped with the finest selection of magic resistance armor, enchanted weapons, and most frightening of all… divine blessing. Only those touched by the hand of god can bestow blessings. Given the looks and feel of the soldiers, they were under the command of Xynith Uniet. A member of the high council.

During the scuffle, the Battle unit was lost. A concentrated blast of magic energy ripped through the torso of the war machine. Everyone survived, bailing out of the teetering mech before it’s elemental battery overloaded. With their Battle unit destroyed, caving in on itself as the elemental battery generated a mini black hole. The group found themselves with only one option left, fight face to face.

The battle was brief, Hisyld had never been much of a fighter. Not to say she couldn’t hold her own, but her companions, they lived for combat. Grot’s bloodline possessed the titan enhancement. An intense boost in physical strength, speed, and a massive reduction of damage taken. A literal tank on the battlefield, laying waste to foe after foe. As for the few strong enough to defend against Grot, that’s who Todri was after.

Unlike her male counterpart, Todri’s magic was unique, not tied to her bloodline. It wasn’t tied to anything in fact. She was a mad hatter, a magus who’s magic abilities surpassed most, able to adapt to any situation and switch magic alignments at the drop of a hat. One second she’d prioritize speed, ducking in between blasts of flame and plasma. Next, she’ll channel all her energy into her weapon, a conduit that once a sufficient amount of mana had been placed inside… it would expel it. Ripping apart the fabric of reality with it’s extravagant, colorful explosion.

Why do they continue to exist if it’s utterly meaningless?

Within an hour, all of the council’s men had been dealt with. Their lifeless bodies strewn about the barren landscape. Hisyld, Grot, and Todri stood at the rocky shore, all gazes directed towards the spire. Even now, the head of the Mynris was anxious. Why should these people, her friends have to share her fate. Death was unwelcoming, no matter who it was approaching.

“Grot, Todri, your task is done. Leave.”

“No,” they replied in unison.

Hisyld took in a breath, “Please, I don’t want your blood on my hands…”

“Oh please,” the disbelief in Todri’s voice was unmistakable, “If you succeed today, you’ll be drowning in the blood of our entire race. What’s a gallon or two more.” Grot chimed in as well, stepping in between the pair.

“We have nothing Mynris, our bloodlines have been marked for execution. In a few days it’ll be like we never even existed. If that fate is unavoidable, I want to make something of the time I have left.”

“Grot… Todri... “

Todri placed a comforting hand on Hisyld’s shoulder, a faint smile just barely surfacing. “We made our choice, now it’s time to make yours.”

Time to make yours… those words repeated over and over again inside Hisyld’s mind. Resurfacing a memory she had long forgotten, one from her childhood. A strange dream that slipped its way into her unconsciousness. A field of green grass, trapped inside a fence of stone bricks, and hundreds, no thousands of un-bloomed roses dotting the horizon. More bricks formed a roof, however there was a circle cut into the rock’s midpoint, allowing sunlight to pass through. As such only those lucky enough to be seeded at the center came into bloom. Unfair, Hisyld thought, were it not for these walls then all the flowers would open up.

Reminiscing helped quell her anxieties, who would’ve thought the spark would once again reignite the fire, helping it burn brighter than ever before.

Hisyld’s form began to take on a green shine, only lasting for a moment until it was subdued. Now only her feet had retained the glimmer. She looked past Todri’s pleased grin at Grot. He knew what she was after, without any vocal exchange between the two Grot tossed her a small, featureless silver cube. She caught the object, and slipped it into her pocket. With all the pieces in play, she turned away from her party.

“We’ll buy you as much time as we can,” Todri said.

“As long as there's life within me, the council's reinforcement will not reach you Mynris.” Grot added, an obnoxious smile stretching across his face. Hisyld took one last look at her allies, Grot’s stocky frame and amber eyes, Todri’s petite body and painfully bright pink hair. All were important facets of their identity, Hisyld did not want to forget them. As deep down she knew, this was the last time she’d see them. With this, she sprinted with unforeseen speed across the murky water, striding across its surface like a water bug.

From here on out, Hisyld Mynris held the hopes and dreams of those who shared her vision within herself. She served as the vessel, the object hidden away inside this cube, the key. And with the spire, all three pieces of the puzzle had been found. All that’s left, the last step, is action.