The breeze flowed back and forth, warm and soft. His arms stretched out, legs folded underneath him, inviting the feeling of oneness he felt to the magical wind he was creating. Since studying magic under both Wrath and Christo, Galliard's connection to his magic had strengthened. It almost felt like it was running wild beneath his skin, begging to be freed. The more he used it the more empowered he felt, his Magic Veins pulsing with the weight of it, flowing through his whole being from his Magic Core.
Still, despite his growth, he still had a long way to go yet. Even his brother admitted that Galliard had surpassed his generation. At least in terms of magical power. However, his control was lacking and his spells were often more explosive than precise. He wondered if every Blessed had to go through this process to control the power gifted to them by the gods. Was he a special case, or perhaps, his magic was simply wilder than others of his race?
He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt small paws resting against his thigh. Kalama looked up at him, the pup's tail wagging behind her, begging for his attention. He sighed, reaching down to scratch at her ears, the wind around him fading. Chuckling at the way she wiggled in bliss at the action. Kalama had not grown much in the short time he had had her. The small canine had, however, begun to show more of her power. The ability to breathe fire was a useful one, especially in battle. Though, it had been at the expense of one of his pants and the smell of smoke was still in his bedchambers even now. Not to mention her apparent ability to shrug off magical energy. Walking through his wind barriers with ease, no matter how hard he tried to keep her out. He could not be happier, knowing he could get at least some use out of the thing.
Standing, Galliard scooped up his familiar, carrying the small emerald pup out of the room. The young hound nuzzled against the face of the prince, licking at his cheeks as he walked. He ignored her, mostly, more focused on getting to his destination than entertaining the pup.
"Cacilia," He spoke up suddenly, the Sentinel appearing to his right. "I will be visiting the Cathedral of Twilight, send one of your men to report."
The armoured Sentinel nodded to her charge, disappearing a moment later without a word. Cacilia had been his shadow since his return, he honestly forgot she was there at times, yet she was ever watchful. Galliard wondered if the older woman even slept, probably not. Why would I sleep, that would distract me from my duty. That sounded like something she would say.
Moving further down the path, the Prince of Wrath came upon a large cathedral, the local Twilight Church in the capital and the place he would find his target. Its spires raised towards the heavens and the large glass windows depicted the sky at Xal's rest. Heavy doors open before him, welcoming any to enter the halls. It was mid-day now, after the morning prayers and before the servants of the church worshipped the divine before rest. That did not mean it was empty, however, men and women in dark purple robes walked through the room. Their faces were covered by masks as they went about their assigned tasks.
A few nodded to him in greeting as they passed, others simply stared at his passing. It was not them he was concerned with, however, but the woman in the centre. She was Daria the High Priestess of the Twilight Church. At the moment she spoke to a group of children, none older than seven, who looked at her in wonder. Setting his familiar down to do as she wished, Galliard leaned against a pew listening to the teachings.
"-And so they were blessed by the very Gods, those who stood with them in that darkest hour when all others had fled." Ah the story of the first cycle, the prince nodded, he remembered it well. " The first to become Blessed, yet not the last, for others would soon follow, given a sacred duty to stand against the darkness of the Abyss!"
A story that every young Mask learned eventually, at least in part. Of the first Abyssal invasion and the war that followed. The Rising of the Young Goddess Zigtia and the first saints. There had been four cycles since, a new age, the rebirth of the world from ash. The Blessed of Xendrada fought, watched, died, returned to the Veil and were reborn through the ages. Servants to the Endless Cycle and the will of the One Thousand Gods.
He waited, idly petting Kalama as he watched the High Priestess impart lore upon the young. Soon enough, however, Daria noticed him and paused in her lesson.
"Ah, excuse me little ones, it would seem the royal family requires my attention." She waved the little ones away, ignoring their groans and complaints at the interrupted story.
"I could have waited, High Priestess," Galliard spoke, as the young ones scattered. "I would not have minded at all."
"Not even I would dare to ignore a scion of Wrath, you have the name for a reason after all." Daria jested.
Daria was a lithe woman, tall and thin. Resplendent in deep purple vestments accented with gold. On her face rested the ceremonial mask of her position, the symbol of Xal spread across the face. The armoured gauntlets upon the hands of the High Priestess display the twin moons Leovis and Vorix. The eternal prisons of the two who caused the Clashing of Worlds through their hubris.
"High Priestess, I require your knowledge," Galliard admitted to the holy woman. "I find myself with questions I believe you may have answers to."
"It would be my pleasure young one through the will of the Divine all mysteries may be revealed." Daria spoke, her tone reverent, as she lifted the symbol of the church.
The symbol of the Twilight Church, Xal eclipsed by the twin moons, caught the eye of the prince for a moment. Galliard reached to his own, a chain around his neck holding the holy image of Twilight. The prince closed his eyes for a moment and sent up a silent prayer to the Gods. One of strength and skill for the wars to come. Opening his eyes he spoke to the woman once again.
"I would know of the past, before Xendrada, before the first Blessed," He looked skywards, though his view was blocked by the great mural painted on the inner dome of the cathedral.
Displayed proudly was the last battle of the first cycle, the Assault Of The Falling Sky. Holy warriors from the Azure Citadel aloft wings of fire, doing battle with Demons from the abyss. Below, fighting side by side, were lesser men and the Beast of old, wielding war scythes and claws against endless abyssal abominations. The Masks, or the mortals that would one day become them, were those who chose to fight against the enemies of Xendrada rather than flee. The Avatars possessed by the Gods and Goddesses at the front of the battle line. An otherworldly glow emanated off of them as they delivered divine judgement in the name of the One Thousand Gods. So strong that Galliard could feel the warmth of their holy light even through the mural.
It was his favourite part of the whole church, he often found himself gazing up at it whenever his father brought him to visit. There was something about it that made him feel at peace, something he could not quite put his finger on.
"You speak of the Clashing of the Worlds," The High Priestess spoke after a moment, almost in a whisper. "That is a story that has been passed down by my predecessors for millennia; few outside the church seek such knowledge."
"I would hear the tale, to learn, so that I may understand the current way of things." Galliard persisted, wishing to hear.
"Before the first Cycle in the age of Gods, there were two lovers." She began, her voice lifting as if in bliss at being able to share such knowledge. "Leovis and Vorix."
"The two imprisoned in the moons above?" Galliard questioned, he had not known they were lovers, that was left out of the texts he had read.
"Precisely, though they loved each other deeply, that love brought nothing but destruction." Daria was clearly pleased with his observation, the two had met on countless occasions but they very rarely conversed past pleasantries. "Leovis, a Goddess of Neptune and Vorix a God of Mars, fell in love at first sight during a meeting held for the Gods of the universe."
"It was an age of prosperity, when the first Gods and Goddesses began to emerge and create wonders never seen!" The High Priestess began pacing now, her words sounding more like a song than speech. "Castles made of holy light, bridges that connected worlds, new races to serve the Divine," She raised her hands to the symbol of Twilight once again, whispering a prayer. "Holy bloodlines began to form, rulers of worlds, Leovis and Vorix were from two such families."
"Avado and Divi right?" Galliard half guessed.
"YES!" The Priestess clasped her hands in delight, "I see we have a true scholar in our midst."
Galliard blushed at the praise, not expecting it, most masked focused on their training as opposed to the academic side. His father had spent far more time teaching him history than fighting, something that he resented, at times. Though he was finding it useful now.
"Something for me to be proud of I suppose." The young prince said meekly, somewhat embarrassed.
"Indeed, but let us continue, yes?" Daria raised her hand as a black fog spewed out of her palm, encasing them in pure darkness. Bright flecks of light began to appear from the shadows, planets of all sizes materialising soon after.
"The two families had been at odds for generations, ever looking for ways to dominate the other." She waved a hand and the scene changed to one of battle. "Holy servants raged war in their name, for a clash of Gods could spell doom to all that exists in the mortal realms."
"Yet Leovis and Vorix caused them to escalate to war through their marriage." Galliard nodded grimly, seeing where this was going.
"Yes, though their intentions were pure their actions enraged both houses." The holy woman nodded. "The house of Avado claimed that Vorix had seduced Leovis and spirited her away." A sad sigh came from the woman as she shook her head. "Soon a war of apocalyptic scale began and the Gods themselves took to the battlefield."
The scene changed once again to imagery of devastation and war. Galliard watched as Xal himself took to the field, almost burning his eyes as he gazed upon him, he was so bright, even in this smaller form. His beam-like tail burned those who opposed him to cinders, his visage that of a great lion. His holy light scorched the surface of the garden world of Venus to ash while lesser gods attempted in vain to stop the first son. On another battlefield, Atrea, Goddess of Fire, rode atop the mighty Hellhound Flashfire. Who looked surprisingly similar to Kalama to Galliard's surprise. He gazed down at the sleeping pup who at some point made herself comfortable around his ankles, before he looked back at the illusion. With a mighty host behind her the living flame let out a mighty battle cry as she charged at her enemy. Clashing with Amihan, the God of storms, riding upon a chariot of lightning to combat his foe.
Battles in the skies, in the sea and even in between worlds. Nowhere seemed to escape the all-consuming war. Galliard shuddered at the thought of such a thing, an endless inescapable slaughter where entire planets were put to the sword.
"How did it end?" He asked eyes fixed on the butchery before him, "Who won in the end?"
"No one won…" She sighed, as the image shifted to a truly devastating scene. The Clashing of Worlds, the end of the age of Gods, the burning of the mortal realms. "Xal, after the burning of Venus, returned to his avatar to plan the next assault and seeing her chance the Goddess of Battle struck Terra."
"Ottilie, Goddess of battle seized the chance to strike at the enemy stronghold." The Priestess got on her knees in prayer as Ottilie cut down all who opposed her. "When Xal returned to Terra to see what she had done the two clashed and the resulting battle drew all around them into a single point."
"The Clashing of Worlds, yes." Galliard watched as the nine planets crashed into each other.
"Finally the fighting was at an end, seeing what had become of their home, the Gods vowed that no such event could happen again." The illusion showed something far different now, creation.
What remained of the shattered worlds formed into new homes, new planets to be seeded with life. In its centre was the largest of the worlds, a massive supercontinent, the only land, Xendrada in the first cycle. Their home, in its infancy, before the invasions of the Abyssal Lords and their Demon Hosts.
"Leovis and Vorix were then imprisoned in the moons for their crimes, close enough to see each other but could never hold or speak to one another again." Galliard watched as twin moons formed from nothing. "Prisons, upon which the instigators of the conflict were forced to watch over the new world, as recompense for what they had caused."
"Where were Xrion and Nerezza during all this, surely the first Deities could have put an end to this before it began?" Galliard asked, curious as to why the two did not intervene.
"Who knows?" Daria shook her head. "Perhaps they saw what was to come and wanted no part of it, or perhaps they did not wish to destroy their own children?"
"Xrion is the Lord of Life, but Nerezza, Lady of Death?" The princeling spoke his doubts.
"Death is not a cruel mistress young Galliard," The Woman corrected him softly. "She is the end of all things but not the cause of suffering."
"What you have to remember is that there can not be life without death." The holy woman explained. "An ever-expanding world where nothing can die is doomed to stagnation of the worse sort, a fate worse than death."