Three days have passed since the Ledyan incident.
In the aftermath of the cataclysmic battle against the demoness Ammit the Soul Eater, the once-proud
city of Ledya lay broken and desolate.
Its marble spires, once reaching toward the heavens, now crumbled like ancient bones. Ashen clouds lay
low, casting a sepulchral pallor over the ruins. Streets that once echoed with laughter and bustling
commerce were now choked with rubble, twisted metal, and the charred remnants of lives extinguished.
The Great Library, repository of knowledge spanning centuries, was reduced to smouldering scrolls and
shattered stained glass. The grand cathedral, its stained windows depicting forgotten saints, stood half-collapsed, its bell tower leaning precariously.
The river that flowed through the heart of Ledya now ran thick with oily residue, its waters poisoned by
the demoness' malevolence. The marketplace, where merchants haggled over spices and silks, lay buried beneath heaps of debris, the scent of decay clinging in the air.
And in the central square, where festival had once celebrated life, a gnarled tree now stood –a grotesque monument to suffering, its twisted branched reaching skyward like skeletal fingers.
No rebuilding could erase the scars etched into the very stones of Ledya; they whispered of loss,
defiance, and the inexorable march of time.
The survivors, their eyes hollow and hearts heavy, wandered the ruins, searching for meaning amid the
wreckage.
Ammit may have been the one to attack Ledya, but it was Kael's uncontrollable flames that lay Ledya to
ruins.
But hope, like the city itself, had crumbled, leaving only echoes of a once-vibrant civilization –a requiem
for a fallen world.
In the heart of Motherland, where the sun-kissed savannah meets the sprawling jungle, stands the
imposing headquarters of A.N.Ts –The Allied Nations of Tellus. The building, a fusion of ancient wisdom and futuristic design, rises like a monolith against the cerulean sky. Its walls, etched with symbols of the first men, pulse with latent energy. Vines cascade down the façade, their leaves whispering secrets to anyone who listens.
Inside, the atrium is a symphony of life. A colossal tree, its roots entwined with the foundation, stretches upward, its branches supporting walkways and balconies. Sunlight filters through emerald leaves, casting dappled patterns on the marble floor. A.N.Ts –shapeshifters, elementals, and beings beyond mortal comprehension –mingle here. Their laughter resonates, harmonizing with the distant hum of magical devices and scent of freshly brewed herbal teas.
The central hub resembles a celestial observatory. Holographic constellations swirl above a circular pool, where koi fish swim, and their scales reflecting starlight. A.N.Ts consult the ancient teachings, and use that knowledge to protect Tellus, home to sixteen countries against any and all enemies, their eyes alight with curiosity.
The cafeteria, a fusion of humans with different abilities and appearances, serves dishes that would take your tongue to the parallel realm.
At the heart of it all, the Council Chamber awaits. Eleven thrones, each representing the ten nations that allied themselves, encircle a central crystal. Here, the ten kings of their ten respective lands, also known as the commanders, make decisions for all of Tellus. The even lookout for the six nations that are not allied with them. Their voices resonate –a chorus wisdom, compassion, and determination.
As twilight paints the sky in hues of amethyst, A.N.Ts gather on the rooftop terrace. They watch shooting
stars streak across dimensions, making wishes for peace, discovery, and unity. For in Motherland's A.N.Ts HQ, where realms converge and mysteries unfold, they safeguard existence itself –a beacon of hope in this world that is fated to collapse with its current population.
The HQ also had the medical and facilities. The sterile white room seemed to stretch infinitely, its walls pristine and unyielding. Kael lay there, suspended between consciousness and oblivion, the battle's echoes still reverberating in his bones. His body ached –a symphony of pain orchestrated by the demoness' claws and the desperate thrusts of his own flaming sword. But it was the void in his chest that hurt the most –the absence of Mickey, his childhood friend, who had fought alongside him until the very end.
The room smelled of antiseptic and despair. Kael's eyelids fluttered open, revealing a ceiling adorned
with flickering lights. He squinted against the harshness, disoriented. How had he survived? The last thing he remembered was Mickey's blood staining the cobblestones, their laughter echoing through the chaos. And then –nothing.
"Welcome back," a voice said, pulling him from the abyss. Kael turned his head, and there she was: Neith. Her eyes held galaxies –the wisdom of ages and the weight of countless secrets. Her skin, a dusky bronze, seemed to absorb the room's sterile glow. Neith wore the uniform of the Intelligence Unit –a sleek white coat, with the symbol of the A.N.Ts on it, adorned with gold sigils. But it was her expression that struck Kael –a mix of relief and curiosity.
"Who are you?" he croaked, his throat parched. "Where is Mickey?"
Neith's gaze softened. "I am sorry," she said, her voice a gentle breeze. "I don't know who you are
referring to. You were found at the centre of the destruction in Ledya, and there was no one other than you on site."
Kael's mind spun. "So she is really gone. What am I doing here? And where is 'here'?"
"Answers," Neith said. "About the incident in Ledya. What exactly happened there? From my eyes, you
lay waste to the city but my intuition says that I am wrong. So can you please tell me everything that has
happened when you are able to talk? The supreme commander of the A.N.Ts will also want to hear."
The white room seemed to hold its breath as Mikaela burst through the door. Her silver hair cascaded
like moonlight, and her eyes –icy blue –held a storm of emotions. Kael's heart shuttered. She was a
mirror image of Mickey. –same delicate features, the same freckles dusting her cheeks. But Mickey was
dead and Kael knew that, a twist of fate that left Kael reeling.
"Hey," Mickey looked at Kael with confusion covering her face. She then pulled out a picture, the edges
frayed from time. In it, two children stood beneath an ancient oak tree, their laughter captured in sepia
tones. Kael recognized himself –the tousled hair, the gap-toothed grin. And besides him, a girl with
mischief in her eyes –the same eyes that bore into his soul, Mickey.
"They found this on you. How am I in this picture?"
Kael's throat tightened. Fate was cruel to him –taking his beloved and then it brings her doppelganger to
him whilst he is mourning. "That is Mickey…" he wept. All of the pain that he held, it all came leaking out -leading to a scream of bear in pain.
"Mikaela, now you made the young man cry, return to your post at once." Neith ordered. Her words
were like an insult since she was the youngest and shortest in the room.
Mikaela H. Winterstone was a promising soldier of the third nation, a distant relative and a doppelganger of Mickey Winther. Soldiers of the third nation wore military coats of the A.N.Ts, they had different colours, and that of the third nation was black with red stripes. The third nation is also known as Kaldaria, a land of proud warriors and master swordsmiths, where the art of swordsmanship is revered and honed to perfection. Its people, are known for their bravery, honour, and unwavering dedication to their craft.
Kaldaria's capital, Eldrida, is said to be home to the legendary Sword Temple, a revered site where the
finest swords in the land are forged and wielded by the greatest warriors. It has a special relationship
with the country of Forgemire.
The Kaldarian Military is feared across the real, with their elite swordsmen. Their motto is simple, "By the
sword, we stand. For honour, we fight."