Immortality.
For many, the concept was an enticing dream, a fantasy whispered in myths and sought after in desperation. To be freed from death, from decay, from the cruel hands of time itself—it was the folly of mortals to desire such a thing. A foolish, naive wish.
Salem knew the truth however.
She sat upon her throne, fingers tapping idly against the cold, polished armrest. The darkness of her domain stretched endlessly, a reflection of the void that had long since settled within her.
How many centuries had passed since she first defied the Gods? Since she screamed at the heavens and demanded the return of the only one who had ever mattered? She had long stopped counting. The passage of time had lost meaning when it no longer carried consequence. What was a day, a year, a century, when none of it could touch her? When she would endure beyond it all, unchanged and unbroken?
But that was the cruelest trick of all, wasn't it?
Unbroken.
No, she had broken countless times. Fractured and shattered, pieced back together only to splinter again. She had lost and lost and lost, and still she endured, as if the universe itself delighted in testing the limits of her suffering.
Immortality was not the blessing that fools imagined it to be. It was a curse, a cruel jest played by uncaring gods. It was watching the world turn to ash and rise again, over and over, while she remained, a constant in a universe of fleeting things. It was knowing that nothing lasted. No kingdom, no victory, no creation. All of it would crumble to dust, and she would be left standing amidst the ruins, forever.
She had loved once.
A love that had burned brighter than the stars themselves, a love that had driven her to madness, to fury, to defiance. He was gone, and she was still here, a relic or more simply a byproduct, of a forgotten past that none remembered. A being that had outlived everything that had ever given her meaning.
And so, she had forged her own purpose. If the world was destined to crumble, then she would be the one to bring it down. If nothing was meant to last, then why should she suffer alone?
Her fingers stilled, her crimson gaze narrowing as she sensed the distant ripples of fate shifting once more. Another challenge. Another piece in the endless cycle of conflict and resistance. It did not matter. The world had always fought against her, just as she had fought against it. Let them try. Let them struggle.
In the end, all things fell to ruin.
And she would remain along with her Magic, the thing that has been with her through EVERYTHING from her time in the tower to her battles to her trying to heal her once beloved and to fighting the gods and now it lay dormant and waiting as she used it to observe the fabric of this story YXMgdGhlIGZvb2xpc2ggYXV0aG9yIHR5cGVkIGFuZCB0cmllZCB0byByZW1lbWJlciBoaXMgZHJlYW1zIHRoYXQgbWFkZSB0aGlzIHN0b3J5Lg
(Have fun deciphering it, should be pretty easy)
It had been a gift once, bestowed only to the few, to those worthy of wielding such power. It was not meant to be scattered like breadcrumbs to the desperate and the weak. It was not meant to be divided, fragmented, squandered.
And yet, Ozma—her foolish, idealistic Ozma—had done exactly that.
Salem's lips curled into a sneer at the thought. He had taken his own magic, the power that had once rivaled even hers, and split it between four mortal girls. Four fleeting, fragile souls who would never live long enough to understand the depth of what they had been given. They were not gods. They were not eternal. They were mere pawns, carrying a burden far beyond their comprehension.
It was pathetic. A desperate attempt to stack the board against her, to delay the inevitable. But Ozma had never understood the nature of true power.
Magic was not meant to be shared. It was meant to be seized, to be wielded, to shape the world to one's will. The Gods had once tried to withhold it from humanity, and she had defied them. She had proven that power belonged to those willing to take it, to use it as it was meant to be used.
Ozma, for all his wisdom, had never learned that lesson. He still clung to his foolish hopes, his endless cycle of reincarnation, desperately trying to defy the truth that he should have accepted centuries ago.
The world was broken.
And no amount of magic would save it.
Her fingers curled into a fist, dark energy crackling between her claws. Let him try. Let his chosen ones fight and struggle and sacrifice themselves in his name. It would not change the outcome.
She had eternity to wait.
And in the end, all things fell to ruin just like how Ozma thought his silver-eyed pets could defeat her but now she had to wonder what he would think when she perfected her new creations and of course she would use the perfected version on her newly captured pet however for now she has to go back to the beginning so time to make Tyrian get her new test subjects maybe this time a male and female so she could breed for more test subjects…
"Tyrian" Salem whispered and yet it echoed throughout her castle almost as if it was alive and that the throne was its heart as it pulsated and expanded giving a slight vibration.
A scuttling noise echoed through the cavernous halls before Tyrian emerged from the shadows, his wild grin stretching unnaturally wide as he threw himself into a kneeling bow before his goddess. His tail flicked eagerly behind him, anticipation thrumming through his form.
"You called, my Queen," he purred, eyes gleaming with manic devotion.
Salem gazed down at him, impassive. "I have a task for you, my loyal hound," she said, her voice soft yet heavy with command. "You have served me well so I need you to bring me 2 beings with silver-eyes a male and a female."
Tyrian's grin faltered slightly, confusion flickering across his face. "My Queen, do you want me to get children or adults with them being related or not?" questioned Tyrian as he listed the questions as if making a shopping list.
Salem leaned forward, resting her chin on one pale skeleton hand. "No, Tyrian. I require something different this time. I need strong ones to become a test subject. A male and a female, young enough to live for a while but not so young that they are useless to me. Bring them to me alive. They will serve a higher purpose."
Tyrian let out a delighted laugh, rocking back onto his heels. "Ohhh, what fun! You wish to craft your own warriors, my Queen? To twist flesh and bone into something… greater?"
Salem's lips curled slightly. "You understand me well, Tyrian."
He pressed a hand to his chest, mockingly sentimental. "Your will is my delight, my Queen! But tell me… what kind of prey shall I hunt for you? Those strong in Aura? Those gifted in combat? Or perhaps—" his voice dropped into a giddy whisper, "—those who think themselves righteous?"
Salem considered his words, fingers tapping idly against the armrest of her throne. "A Huntsman and a Huntress if possible," she finally decided. "Ones with potential at the very least. Ones that will not break too easily under my hand."
Tyrian's eyes widened with excitement, his entire body trembling with eagerness. "Ohhh, this will be a joyous hunt indeed! Shall I bring them screaming, my Queen? Or shall I let them believe they have a choice?"
Salem smirked, rising from her throne, the shadows twisting and writhing at her feet. "Bring them to me, Tyrian. Whether they come screaming or silent is of no consequence. I will break them all the same. If you find others with potential be sure to bring them too"
Tyrian leapt to his feet, bowing low before scuttling backward into the darkness. His laughter echoed through the halls as he vanished into the night, his Queen's command thrumming through his veins like a song.
Salem turned, gazing into the swirling pools of dark magic at her command. Soon, she would have what she needed. Ozma placed his faith in mortals—fragile, foolish things that clung to ideals. But she would prove, once and for all, that true power was not granted.
It was taken.
And when the time came, even the silver-eyed warriors would kneel before her, and speaking of silver-eyes best to check on her new friend though she's been quite static.
-(SWITCHING SCENES)-
Edward's P.O.V.
The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the flickering candle atop the wooden table. Edward sat across from Lewis, his fingers interlocked as he leaned forward, his expression grim.
"We need to talk," Edward said, his voice low and measured.
Lewis, seated with his arms crossed, raised a brow. "About what?"
Edward exhaled through his nose, steeling himself. "Our future. Where this is all headed."
Lewis let out a small chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "You sound like you've already made up your mind."
"I have," Edward admitted. "But I need to know where you stand."
For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Edward studied Lewis, looking for any sign of hesitation, doubt, or defiance. They had been through too much together to dance around the subject; their bond defied even dimension.
"We both know things can't stay the way they are," Edward continued. "The world is changing, and we need to change with it. We either step forward and take control of our future, or we sit back and let others decide it for us as events unfold the same way."
Lewis drummed his fingers against the table. "And what exactly are you proposing?"
Edward's gaze didn't waver. "Power. Influence. Security. We carve out a place for ourselves before someone else and besides I've already got a few contacts though I'm not sure if he and the Ice-cream will be willing to help us."
Lewis sighed, rubbing his temple. "And what about the risks were both still kids? You know as well as I do that this won't be easy."
Edward smirked, though there was little warmth behind it he was beginning to feel less. "Nothing worth having ever is."
The flickering candle cast shifting shadows across the room as the weight of their decisions settled between them. Whatever choice they made now would shape their path forever.
Edward leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "So tell me, Lewis… are you with me I'll always let you have a choice?"
Lewis remained silent, his sharp eyes watching Edward carefully. Seconds stretched into an eternity before he finally let out a deep sigh.
"I suppose I always knew we'd come to this," Lewis muttered. He reached for the candle, running a hand through the warm light before his fingers curled into a fist as though trying to feel the warmth. "You're asking me to step into a game where we might not survive, Edward hell at first I thought you didn't."
Edward nodded. "I know."
Lewis chuckled dryly. "And you still expect me to say yes?"
Edward leaned back in his chair, his confidence unwavering. "I expect you to not give up on our bond even when we've been placed in this new world. We've fought through this beginning before even if it was in our original world. We're going to be better than last time. We have the experience now unlike last time."
Lewis tapped his fingers against the table, deep in thought. Then, after what felt like forever, he looked up, meeting Edward's gaze.
"I'm with you," Lewis said finally. "But if we do this, we do it right. No reckless moves. No unnecessary risks unlike last time, especially now since anyone can have super-powers without us knowing."
Edward smiled, his first genuine smile of the night. "Agreed."
The candle flickered once more as their pact was sealed, a silent promise between two men standing at the edge of a new future. One that they would shape with their own hands, for better or for worse.
"The first thing we need to do is gain the people of Vale's favors if the people are willing to help us then we'll have an organization after that we make them think were profits with the knowledge from the show I've only told you the basics so far so I'll have to fully fill you in later." Spoke Edward as he pulled out files from his home made desk in his hand made home thanks to Bob in the forest of Patch.
"For now however I believe it would be better to have us discover more about our Semblances and the world things that the show didn't describe much of," said Edward as he continued going through files and writing plans "Your also going to have to go home soon brother after all your from a noble family."
Sighing as Lewis collapsed on the chair not caring for how he looks as he throws his arms up "Yeah I know then it's back to home filled with quite family diners and then school and repeat with little changes," although Lewis was complaining he was just happy to have his brother back even if they were truly related "thought about Semblances I believe what mine could be."
Edward looked surprised and now has his full attention on Lewis "Truly, that's great bro what do you think it's about, any ideas?" questioned Edward as he now has a big genuine smile for his brother.
Excitedly Lewis practically screams "Yeah, I don't know how but when I was alone and started thinking about the past and the good old days I started having this feeling like that I could bring things into existence though it didn't quite feel like creating but more like transporting HELL I even felt a house I think and every time I see this body's father's contracts I feel like I could sort of claim or own them?"
Edward tried processing all this and his thoughts when Lewis explained and at first he thought Lewis could just out right create things and that would have been overpowered if Edward ever heard it like seriously being able to create, oh he could make a lot of plans using that but then as he continued Edward became increasingly more confused.
"From what I can gather it seems like you're semblance would be resolved around contracts and deals though if that's the case then I don't know why it counted your old contracts like the ones from our world so I'm going to take a guess and say that the ones from our world would require much more aura or whatever you use as fuel… WAIT, I just had a weird thought."
After saying that he started writing a contract "Tell me if you can feel your semblance working?" what the contract stated is that:
If in the case of _____'s death there soul shall belong to ______ and ______ will be able to bring _____ soul back from death were _____ shall create or find a body for _____ to possess and use, however in the case of _____'s death then _____'s soul shall belong to Edward, there was even a blood print to confirm the true person so it wouldn't go to a random Edward, Were he shall find a body for _____ to possess or allow them to switch places with the holder of _____'s soul using there own body as a medium.
This contract shall last forever even if both _____ and _____ were to die.
Signed by ______
Singed by ______
DAMMM SON a cliffhanger though please reader what do you think about this new development and should it be allowed this is were you the reader will have a massive impact in the story as this is where things start getting real and this is just Lewis I wonder what your reactions would be to Edward I have given signs though there might not be obvious as they are quite subtle however I shall give you a hint go back to the VERY BEGINNING and tell me if you noticed it and that shall be all for now Thanks for reading as things are starting to roll now.
P.S How long do you want the chaps to be and around what time should I post them also be aware that I am BRITISH. This is the last cliffhanger I swear I just really want people to talk to.