As the townsfolk and monsters cheered for the victory over the great Wyrm, none of them were aware that the whole battle had been viewed from an outside source. The scene pulls away until it is almost distorted as if viewed through a foggy piece of glass. It is revealed that the scene is looked upon through a glass, a mirror, to be exact, and its sole viewer is watching over with a curved smile upon her face.
A tray of assorted finger food and a glass of wine were beside her, with pained faces screaming soundlessly within. She sipped from the cup and smacked her lips. Honestly, the wine tastes even better with a show. After daintily wiping her lips off, she pushed her hand in front of the mirror and made the scene of revelry disappear, revealing her face again in the large vanity mirror.
She was a devil, a beautiful devil, but a devil no less. And she was one of the most potent kinds of devils, a Devil Piere. Her skin was snow white and void of any blemishes or impurities, her face was crafted like perfect marble, her eyes glowed like ambers that had been set ablaze by black fire, and her hair was darker than night itself and perfectly done up in a set of face frame braids and decorated with sparkling jewels. Her makeup was spotless, perfectly placed, color coordinated, and unique, making her look like a work of art.
She wore an elegant, eye-catching gown covering and concealing her perfect body. Beautiful shades of white, gold, and violets decorated its shining cloth with even more gems organized so that each reflected a different light color when viewed. Hewes and hemes and embroidery of perfect design and placement--not one of them was misaligned. She was the picture of perfection, the image of beauty, the source of true envy.
She took one of the many different kinds of makeup spread perfectly, evenly, and coordinated across her desk where the mirror hung. Taking off the top and pushing it out, she deposited a perfect appliance of her ruby red lipstick. After looking over herself to ensure it was perfect, she set it down and said with a cold chuckle, "You never did fail in entertaining me, love."
Suddenly, the door to her room was flung open, and all the candles that gingerly lit her extravagant room were blown out all at once. A deep scowl crossed her face as she looked in the mirror to the only source of light left, her open door, where a figure stood with an uncaring expression. The figure was clothed in the darkness of a silhouette with the light coming from behind, but the devil didn't have to turn around to know who it was; there was only one living creature brazen enough to try something like this, her fellow Devil Piere, Donavain.
"Charlotte, the king, requests his council's presents at once. So quit looking at yourself in that vanity mirror.", Donavain told the woman flatly before abruptly leaving.
Charlotte huffed long after he left and said, "You're no fun.", then she placed a set of earrings and a necklace around her neck to decorate herself.
After looking at herself one last time, she stood up and walked out the still-open door, waving her hand, which caused it to close by itself. As she walked through the winding, long, and mind-bending hallways of the dark castle, she took a brief moment to view herself in any and every kind of reflective surface, whether it be a mirror, a vase, or a shiny set of armor. Candles lit her way amongst the soft howl of souls used to build the very foundations of the castle and its walls, the soft patter of rain outside, and its accompanying lightning. It was always storming in these lands.
Finally, she made it to the throne room, or at least the door that led to it, where her other Devil Pieres waited, primarily for her. After receiving a few irritated glances from them, she took her spot amongst them and waited to be called in. She stood as the fifth in line from the right, with two others at her opposite side. This showed her ranking in the court, something she was not too pleased with. She wanted to be number one more than anything and glanced over at the person in the number one spot with envy and hatred.
Meanwhile, an entirely different scene unfolded on the other side of the door. Within the lavish throne room of dark pillars, gray tile floors, and dangling ceiling of eerie white strings and laces was a single enormous obsidian throne sitting upon an altar of ivory and metal. Upon it sat the Devil King, clothed in the darkness around him; nothing but his eyes broke through. Huge stained glass windows reverberated the sound of the rain outside. They shone in any light from the flashes of lightning, briefly illuminating the dark room of blood-red torches and tubes that ran along the walls like mazes of red, feeding the seemingly endless fire.
Suddenly, a small, ugly creature entered the room. Covered by a hood and cloak, it bowed low and told the white-eyed figure sitting upon the throne, "Your Majesty, the Council of Seven Calamities have arrived."
The king sat silently before replying, "Send them in."
The colossal mahogany doors were flung open, and the Council of Seven Clamaities walked in one long horizontal line. The Council stood and then kneeled before the foot of the altar.
As she always was, Charlotte was the first to speak and inquired, "You called for us, your Highness?"
The Devil King stayed silent before answering, "Yes, as I'm sure many of you know, a new Chosen Touched has entered our world. What with the defeat of the Dreaded Anaya the Black."
The third Devil Piere perked up at the name and said, "Anaya the Black? I could've sworn I killed a dragon who spoke of such a name hundreds of years ago."
The Devil King waved his self-questioning off and said, "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that this new Chosen Touched must be taken care of."
"Shall we extend an invitation to join the Far Lands?", the seventh Devil Piere asked.
The eyes shook back and forth before the king answered, "No, it is far too late to invite him. He is growing stronger and stronger at a rapid rate. He has made many connections. He will never accept. We must act now to eliminate him.", he announced with more urgency than his ordinarily calm and cold tone, all while hitting the armrest hard enough to shake the immediate area. The eyes shifted to the fifth Devil Pierre and called in a soft tone, "Charlotte."
"Yes, my liege?", Charlotte answered without a break, looking up to meet his gaze.
"You have been keeping watch over this Chosen Touched for some time now, yes?", he inquired with a tone that meant he wasn't asking as a question of curiosity.
Charlotte smiled at him and answered, "My my, his Highness is even more clairvoyant than I imagined. Yes, I have been watching him since I realized…who he was."
The eyes narrowed, and the slight slit of a smile graced his face as he told her, "Then I shall leave you in charge of killing him, and be sure to do it right."
"Of course, I only ask for your patience. I want to play around with him before I break him.", Charlotte asked him before giving a cruel and wicked smile.
The king's smile disappeared, leaving only his narrowed eyes as he said, "Very well, but do not fail me! If you do, you had better not come back alive.", he warned her with a tone so menacing that it caused the very walls to quake with fear.
Again, Charlotte bowed and replied, "On your order, my king."
xXx
Within the Dauntless Kingdom, high above in the tallest tower lay the study of the kingdom's head mage, with a sprawling setup of books, beakers, and tomes from top to bottom. The floor-to-roof walls were outfitted with shelves, and each spot was filled with books. Floating scrolls and books fluttered about like birds from one shelf to the other. The stone floor was outfitted with magical tomes, giving the small area its magically whimsical feeling and other uses ranging from defense to self-cleaning.
The top floor had an alchemy set that held many colored vials and liquids that mixed or bubbles under burners. At the center was a large telescope and a map of the stars on the ceiling. A large window that looked out into the kingdom was surrounded by a large birch desk with books and papers stacked nearly to the roof and floating from one pile to the next.
An elderly man dressed in long, elegant, and aged robes sat in a sizable velvet-lined seat. His weird and unusual-looking hat was his head that hid away his baldness and was the same age as his robes. His beard was long and nearly touched the ground, though it remained unkempt, as if he had little time in self-grooming.
As he sat and briskly scribbled away on a piece of parchment, his aged hands showing no pain or fatigue, he suddenly turned his attention to the window; after looking out of it for a long while, he clutched his head and began to moan in pain before finally finding the strength to call out for aid.
"Rocky! Rocky!", the old man yelled in his strained voice.
Suddenly, a young man dressed in simple, bright blue attire came running up the staircase and bolted to the old man's side, helping him sit up without falling out of his seat. His hair was short brown, and his eyes were pale green. He had evenly tanned skin and dark freckles decorating his face, which appeared to move positions.
"I'm here, I'm here, master! What ails you?!", Rocky, the young man, asked the elderly man.
"Not ails, empowers!", the old man says while clutching his hand into a fist and suddenly standing up.
"Master?", Rocky asks before watching the old man get up and move around his space like he was decades younger. He makes a moaning sound with his hands in the air. "Master Gimbal! What's wrong?", Rocky asks him again, thinking he is in pain.
"I can feel it, Rocky. I can feel it!", Gimbal says with a twinkle in his usually dull blue eyes.
"What master, what?", Rocky asks in excitement.
"A great power! One I have not felt in many, many years! The power of a Chosen Touched!", the wizard tells him.
"A Chosen Touched! Master, are you sure?", Rocky questions to be sure.
Gimbal rubbed his hands and said with a chuckle in his throat, "These old bones have never forgotten the feeling. Come, we must make haste!"
"Make haste! To where?", Rocky asked.
"To the Empty Lands.", the old man answered smoothly, grabbing a long and ornate staff.
"But that's on the other end of the continent! It will take us weeks by horse alone!", Rocky exclaimed.
"Then let us not dilly-dally. Grab your essentials and tack the horses. We have a Chosen Touched to meet.", the old man shoved him along while grabbing a shoulder bag and magically floating several things into it.
Rocky became a stuttering and frozen mess when he saw his aged master act and move so young and vibrantly. But he managed to stammer out, "But what of the king? He will be crossed to know you suddenly disappeared without warning."
"The king will understand. I've known him since he was a babe.", Gimbal assured him before waving his hands and saying, "Now come along. Going out into the world will broaden your view and help you develop your magical skills."
xXx
Meanwhile, far below the mage's tower was the main throne room where the ruler of the Dauntless Kingdom resided upon his throne. The room was crafted from white marble and embroidered with ivory and silver. Paintings and tapestries of age-long battles long ago decoratively hung on the wall. Decorative displays of pristine gem encysted silver armor stood at attention, leading up and through a line of pillars leading to the throne.
It sat on the ground but was surrounded by a violet rug depicting a knight fighting off a dragon with many heads. The throne was made of dark oak and had seven swords encircling it from the back. There, the king, clad in pure gold armor with gems, sat with his face masqueraded by the helmet he wore. Apart from how the armor framed his body, nothing of him could be seen.
Suddenly, the large door slid across the stone floors, and in ran a young courier who kneeled the moment he got close to the throne.
After catching his breath, the young boy told him, "Your Majesty. I bring news from the southern territory of Velamire near the Empty Lands."
"Speak.", the king commanded him.
After quickly wiping his face of saliva, the boy told him, "The town of Ash End has been raised to the ground--many casualties. But I was told word of the Ancient Black Dragon, the Dreaded Anaya the Black, has been slain by your son. Prince Eidolon."
The king puts a hand to his chin in thought and gripes, "So my son has finally slain the Wyrm. It's about time that little coward took action."
"Are you not pleased my liege?", the boy inquired carefully.
With his other hand, the king gripped the armrest until it cracked, and he replied in a restrained tone, "No, I am not. He should have killed that Wyrm months ago instead of waiting on it. I would have congratulated him had he gone to Ash End, slain the beast, and returned within the month. But he has been there for several. He is still nothing like his brother.", he sighs in an aggravated tone and looks up at a painting of a young man in golden armor, raising a sword to the sky with a dead devil under his foot. "I wish he had never died. Eidolon is a far cry from the man his brother was.", the king lamented before changing his tone and asking, "What other news do you bring?"
A little baffled by what he saw, the young man stammered momentarily before answering, "The Boiling Easts Orc invasion has gotten out of hand with nearly 50% of the territory already claimed. So the King of Red Hot Sand is asking for aid."
The king pondered this for a minute before informing the young man, "Send word to my general at the east side of the merchant district. Ready a large cadre of soldiers. And when my cowardly son returns, have him join. Even he can't mess this up."
The young man bowed deeply and replied before running off, "Right away, your Highness."
Leaving the king to stew in his own frustrations and thoughts.
xXx
Days after Anaya's attack, the survivors collected what was left of their belongings and temporarily moved into the goblin's citadel. Despite the cold, the Lizard Men got straight to work clearing the vast town and using their skills to rebuild townhouse after house. It would take the rest of winter and some of spring to collect material and construct each home or place of business, but it was well worth it. This time, they would be reinforced with stone brick for foundations and walls and only wood and thatch for the roofs.
Basil watched over them from afar as they built, taking breaks to warm up by nearby bonfires. He sat atop a hill overlooking the town and contemplated his next move. To him, it almost seemed over. His secret was out. And even if the townsfolk gave their word, there was no way it would stay like that forever.
It was one thing for a few monsters to know about that, but people were different. He knew it was all a matter of time before he was exposed, and since that already happened, it wouldn't be long before it was common knowledge.
He never wanted it to go like this when he started his second life. He didn't want to be the main character intertwined in a stupid, loosely understood prophecy; he just wanted a quiet and calm life as a baker. Guess he can kiss that dream goodbye. Sinking into his depression, he just hoped he could have a halfway normal life from here until the shit hit the fan again.
Suddenly, a voice called him, saying, "Basil?"
He jumped up in a panic and spun around while exclaiming, "AH! Marigold! You scared me!"
"I'm sorry. Can I sit?", the woman apologized while motioning to a spot next to him.
Basil wordlessly nods as he sits back down, soon followed by the woman. The two of them sit silently while looking out over the once-standing town. Eventually, the silence and tension become too much, and Marigold tries to break the ice.
"Sooooo.", she tried starting the conversation.
"Soooooo?", Basil repeated.
"Soooooo…oh gods, I have no idea how to break the ice.", Marigold quickly gave up while looking down.
"You wanna ask about me being Chosen Touched, yeah?", Basil guessed.
Without answering his question, Marigold made a strange expression as she vented, "It all makes sense in hindsight. You didn't know things that even the most impoverished and uneducated people would, and how you could learn magic so fast despite not having any formal training or being born as a Sorcerer. And a bunch of other things."
"Yeah.", Basil sort of drew out in a drawl before silence fell over them once again. Knowing what would inevitably happen, Basil prompted, "So what else do you wanna know?"
Marigold shifted uncomfortably on her snow-covered spot, rubbing her hands in a vain attempt to bide time until she finally asked, "What do you remember? Do you remember anything from…before this world?"
Basil sighs deeply, looks at the cloudy sky, and answers, "Everything. In excruciating detail. The good, the bad, mostly the bad."
She waited for a minute, but when Basil didn't follow up on his previous statement, Marigold asked him, "So Basil isn't your real name?"
"Who would name their kid after an herb?", Basil said with a small smile and chuckle.
"The same ones who'd name their kid after a flower.", Marigold joked back, allowing the two to share a small but needed laugh before the awkward silence set in once more, with nothing but the wind and construction noises to break it. That's when Marigold tried to inquire further, "Do you remember anything before you came here? Like the travel point?"
Basil's face became somber once again, and he admitted truthfully, "I died. I remember that and how I died. And I can sorta remember my travels here."
"Sorta?", said Marigold, intrigued by the vagueness.
Basil looked out into the distance, his eyes narrowed as if in deep thought or remembrance, and described, "Even though I experienced it, I only remember bits and pieces. It was like a dream, and the longer I go on in this world, the less I remember until it feels like a distant feeling." Thus, the man shed a single tear.
Thinking that she finally struck a chord, Marigold tried to say to him, "Basil, I-."
"Marigold, let me stop you right there.", the man interrupted her, making the woman stop mid-thought. He sighed and then said, "I somehow get the feeling where this is going, and I need to speak my peace.", Marigold closed her mouth and watched as the man sat up straight, looking towards the sky until he suddenly stood up, faced the woman and admitted with eyes locked, "I like you Marigold, I really do. I won't lie about that. For a while I denied it and chalked it up to lack social experience, but I do really like you.", Marigold's face lit up with a light blush. Still, before she could reply, Basil suddenly said out of the blue, "But I can't be with you."
"What? Why?", the woman unexpectedly announced a bit too loudly.
Though Basil didn't mind or even seem to notice her reaction, he continued ranting, "Where do I even start? Firstly, I died at the age of 70 years old! I'm an old freaking man! I'm older than your dad! I may have the body and vitality of a 20-year-old man, but I still have the knowledge and years of an old fart. So that, on its own, is just weird, even when I try not to think about it. And also, I have no emotional experience. I may have lived to my golden years and had a wife and kids, but I never got to experience it. It was more like a commodity rather than a part of my life. I didn't have a childhood; I still don't know how to speak to people non-professionally. I'm still trying to sort out my feelings. It's like I'm reliving my youthful days and finding my way through adulthood. I'm trying to make up for lost time and pushing forward! Thankfully, I skipped puberty, but that's not important. I'm a mess, and you don't need a mess."
As the man finished his story and looked down, shoulders slumped in self-doubt, Marigold popped to her feet, marched over to him, and slapped his face! The only thing Basil did in response was widen his eyes and gingerly touch his cheek while looking out of the side of his face, seeing only Marigold's red face and insulted expression.
"Don't say that! I don't think you're a mess!", the woman proclaimed, making Basil blush slightly until she followed up by saying, "Well, I do, but not in the way you're thinking.", this made Basil lose his previous state of sight joy to a neutral one with a half-lidded gaze as Marigold continues, "But that's what I like about you. You don't know yourself and are actively trying to figure that out, and I want to know, too. You're not like all the guys I've known throughout my life. Always trying to be something they were taught to be, putting on a mask, just not being who they say they are or concealing what's really underneath.", she then took his hands in hers and told him while looking up with a much stronger blush on her face, "You're just you, 100% pure you. You want to figure yourself out and your way through life. That's what I like."
"But-.", Basil tried to argue.
But Marigold, knowing what he'd say, cut him off and assured him, "I don't care if you're really an old man's mind in the body of a young man. I don't care if you're a part of a prophecy. I don't even care if you want to do little kid stuff if it makes you happy and helps you relive the childhood you lost. I just like you.", even through all her proclamations, Basil still didn't look at her and, even more so, looked generally uncomfortable. So she let go of his hands and turned away while telling him, "But if you're not comfortable with the idea. Then I can wait until you've figured yourself out. I just hope I can be a part of that process."
Basil's heart swelled with gratitude and joy at her words, and he was suddenly overtaken by the same strange force that caused him to act with her around. He suddenly hugged the woman from her side as he whispered to her, "Thank you, Marigold. You really are my angel." Thus, the two adults shared a tender and comfortable moment in the silence, though how long this peace would last was anyone's guess.