As dusk enveloped the Kenshire kingdom, the royal castle came to life under the starlit sky, hosting a grand banquet that summoned allies from across the realm. The great hall was transformed into a spectacle of opulence and beauty. Long tables adorned with gold and silver lined the room, festooned with garlands of twilight blossoms that released a gentle, mesmerizing fragrance.
From the kingdom of Frostgarde, known for its fierce warriors and ice sculptors, emissaries arrived wearing cloaks that shimmered like the northern lights. King Hjolmar, a towering man with a beard as white as the snow of his homeland, laughed heartily as he greeted his counterparts. "Ah, the warmth of Kenshire's hearth is unlike any other!" he boomed, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
Nestled to the east was the verdant realm of Greenwick, whose delegates walked in draped in robes of deep emerald, the very hue of their endless forests. Their young queen, Analyn, known for her wisdom, shared intriguing tales. "In Greenwick, the trees whisper secrets of the earth," she murmured to those near her, her eyes twinkling with hidden knowledge.
Representatives from the island maritime of Solspire had also made the long journey. They proudly wore garments adorned with pearls and seashells, reflecting their dominion's mastery over the seas. Duke Korsan, a seasoned sailor, regaled the crowd with stories. "The waves of Solspire sing of ancient mariners and lost treasures," he boasted, gripping a goblet of spiced wine.
Among the arriving dignitaries, Zabriel entered quietly but with an undeniable aura. He wore a suit finely tailored from the darkest velvets, overlaid with a silver-threaded vest that caught the light with each movement. But…
He still had his mask on.
Ellie, in stark contrast, was a whirlwind of energy. She donned a striking black and red dress with matching gloves, her attire finished with a daring cut that fell dramatically to the floor. Ellie energetically made her way around the food-laden tables, unabashedly filling her plate high and even nudging people aside in her haste. Once satisfied with her bounty, she walked outside towards the balcony that was outside, and said, "Zabriel, buddy. I've found us a seat. I don't fit in with those royal weirdos."
Zabriel looked at Ellie, and didn't wanna eat, but he joined her anyway.
In a secluded corner, Judge Helsong leaned against the wall, conversing quietly with other Justicars. "King Arshan found these Healers just months past," he explained with a hint of scorn, "They arrived, displayed their talents, and were accepted into the royal service almost instantly. Such expedience in trust is rare and, perhaps, reckless. But all will be made new soon."
"Are you conducting something, Helsong?!"
"And if I am?"
"Then we will follow. The King has abandoned the rights of Zepharion. Disobeying the wishes of a king should be immediate death, as our ancestors have done years ago."
"You don't want to do this. It's foolish. I have my own plans. Serve the king as you wish, but you'll end up like him. When they arrive."
"Who?"
Meanwhile, Holt, ever the mischief-maker, was trying his luck with knights from other realms. "Surely you see the need to challenge Zabriel! He's as slippery as an eel," he argued with a grin, but was met with dismissive shakes of the head, causing him to pout dramatically in defeat. "With your strength, we can strike him now!"
The knights replied:
"Nope, we're good here."
"Yeah, you might be going insane."
"We heard of him. We're not about to get brutalized then healed over and over again. Nope."
Holt said to them, "Bunch of cowards."
The knights just laughed at him.
Gill, isolated by his own choosing, sat nibbling at his food while his eyes darted across the room. His anxious gaze suggested he expected trouble at any moment, yet none seemed forthcoming.
'Agh..so many eyes. So many royal people. Everyone looks pretty damn strong…but I do feel important being here. Guess I'll keep that in mind. I'd usually spend this time training, but this is good. Plus, if Zabriel is here when he's never around, I have to follow suit.'
Outside, as Ellie was eating, she said to Zabriel, "You're really not gonna eat, dude?"
Zabriel replied, "No."
"You should. Besides, you can take your mask off, it's just us two out here. No ones paying attention over here."
"Hm…"
"And I've seen you without your mask. It doesn't bother me. You know that. We've been friends since we were children, ever since we were trained to be literal killers and all, then sent off into the real world to blend in as healers and eliminate wrongdoing by any idiot who deserved to die."
"….Take it off."
Ellie, flustered, slowly groped Zabriel's mask, and pulled it off.
Zabriel had shoulder length brown hair in a braided ponytail, one dark teal eye, and his other eye was dark red but had a huge burn mark around it and half the side of his face.
Ellie chuckled, "Damn that hurts just looking at it."
Zabriel was about to put his mask back on, but Ellie stopped him, holding his hand, chuckling, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."
It was silent between the two of them, their hands touching.
Ellie said, "Zabriel. Have you ever thought about running? Just running the hell away?"
Zabriel didn't respond, he just looked away.
Ellie continued, still holding his hand, "Everything Is crazy. I still dream about my parents..and what I really want to do. I don't want to be some hidden assassin. Who would've thought people like us who were born with healing magic would be turned into assassins as children? We were told we healers were more special than the others because we can blend into society better with a healers role. Since Healers are often trusted and have access to many people including royalty and high ranking officials, it would provide us with opportunities to gather information and get close to our targets without raising suspicion. You get what I'm saying, right?"
Zabriel responded, "Yes."
"You've saved my life a lot, defended and killed for me. And you've only spoken to me through your life after we were released by the assassins. I told you my dream was to go out and live a life where I can help children but run my own orphanage or something. I know, super weird coming from a girl like me. I know I'm badass, but I have to save room for some heartwarming stuff, right? I'll take in children who are victims of enemy kingdoms and bandits who kill the children's parents, and help them. Care for them. All while maybe trying to have my own kids as well. Why? I don't fucking know. Maybe because I'm not like everyone else. Maybe because we didn't deserve Eric be turned into trained killers, kissing out on a true children's lifestyle. Where were the toys at? Playing outside? Our toys were literal blades and we played with enemies' spinal cords outside and jump-roped with them. The assassins tried to take our emotions away from us, but my goals kept that from happening. In your case..you've always been like that. But what I'm saying is…is uh..I don't know how to put this..let me just..uh..dammit I'm awkward."
Ellie instantly leaned forward, and kissed Zabriel. Both of their lips touched, pressed softly against each other for a total of 10 seconds, and then their lips parted.
Ellie sighed, "Yeah that was the best way I could explain it. Without words, right? I want you to come with me. Only you. I can't think of anyone else. I've taken some kind of liking to you over the years, and I've been scared shitless to tell you. I do want to leave with you though, It doesn't have to be now, but whenever things settle down. I don't want it to be too late for me. I don't want to be held down by the rules of the assassins. They probably all died out anyway."
Zabriel explained, "…Enemies wait for no one. There will always be violence."
"Yeah..I get it. I just hoped—."
"That's why they all have to die so you can achieve it."
"Lemme guess, you'll be the one too—."
"I'll be the one to wipe them out."
Ellie thought, 'He always thought of others first. Even me, I never heard him talk about what he truly wanted. Or what his true goals were. It couldn't be because the assassins made him like this, because he was already like this. During missions, he risked his life to protect me and the other assassins. He was weak before, but he did what he could, and always won, and he lost some. And then that day, he went out on a solo assassination mission, he came back with half of his face burned. He'll never tell me what really happened. But I think that day…really set in stone how he is now. All in all…How did he feel about me kissing him?!'
Ellie stood up, and asked Zabriel, "You're not uncomfortable, right?! Because I kissed you?"
Zabriel shook his head "no."
Ellie sighed, "Good. I'm gonna go get you a plate of food. And probably try and find the maids I was with earlier. They said they'd be here."
As Ellie left, Zabriel sat still, touching his own mouth. Remembering the kiss they shared. A tear shed from his eye; it wasn't a tear of anything saddening, but a slight joy.
Zabriel stood, and said, "Ellie."
Ellie stopped and turned around, her beauty glistening under the moonlight. "Zabriel."
"…I will make sure you're able to..achieve your goals. Even if I have to kill a million enemies—."
"—In one night, haha see? I kinda know you. But I'll hold you to that, weirdo Zabriel."
Ellie reached her hand out, and Zabriel stuck his hand out, they locked fingers, raised their middle finger, locked it, and twisted it slowly as steam came from their palms as they drew closer to each other, and touched foreheads as their hands still were connected. The Oath amongst Crows, a pact amongst the assassins that solidified their alliance and relationship.
As the evening progressed, laughter and music swelled within the hall, creating a lively atmosphere that belied the strategic alignments and tensions among those present. The air was thick with the scents of roasted meats, fresh herbs, and the tang of foreign spices, each platter a testament to the culinary expertise of the kingdom's best chefs.
Suddenly, the jovial noise dimmed as King Arshan stood, his presence commanding silence. He cleared his throat, preparing to address his guests, the anticipation palpable in the air. "Friends, allies of Kenshire," he began, his voice steady and resonant, "tonight is not merely a feast for the senses, but also..."
Here the king paused, his next words hanging, leaving a cliffhanger that promised revelations or decisions that could ripple across the realms represented in the room. The gathered crowd leaned in, every ally and adversary under the vast, ornate ceiling of the hall connected by the thread of impending words from their host, King Arshan. The scene, filled with the mingling scents and sounds of a night designed to blend both celebration and diplomacy, paused on the cusp of significant unfoldings.
In the hushed grandeur of the banquet hall, with all eyes fixed upon him, King Arshan began to weave the rich tapestry of Kenshire's history and its divine guidance under Zepharion, the All-Seer, God of Unity and Perfect Order. "In our kingdom," Arshan's voice reverberated with pride, "we are not merely subjects but stewards of Zepharion's vision, striving for harmony and precision in all our pursuits."
He gestured expansively, encompassing the grandeur around them. "Behold Kenshire - a land of formidable fortresses and lush valleys where every stone and stream is positioned by divine decree, and every law crafted to reflect the celestial order. Our architects and lawmakers are not only skilled but chosen by the signs of Zepharion, ensuring that our structures and statutes stand as a testament to His eternal wisdom."
"As we continue to grow," Arshan continued, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his esteemed guests, "we draw inspiration from the might and mystique of Frostgarde, where warriors are as steadfast as the ice that armors their realm; from Greenwick's enigmatic forests, where knowledge blooms like the flora; and from Solspire, where the sea's boundless mysteries are navigated with courage and acumen."
His tone then shifted, becoming gravely serious. "However, amidst our accomplishments, dark whispers reach our ears, disturbing the serenity ordained by Zepharion." The room's atmosphere tensed as he elaborated, "Rumors of the Cult of Fabel, a group devoted to chaos and disruption, have begun to surface. Sourced from our own intelligence and unsettling reports from the contentious kingdom of Carnien, it seems they aim to unravel the fabric of order we so cherish."
King Arshan paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in among the audience. "This banquet, while a celebration of alliance and prosperity, is also a council of war. We must unite, pooling our insights and resources to counteract this threat."
A representative from Greenwick stood, her voice earnest as she began, "Your majesty, if I may suggest—" But before she could continue, a figure emerged from the shadows to stand beside King Arshan.
It was Judge Helsong, his presence commanding immediate attention. With a small, knowing grin that hinted at deeper insights into the unfolding situation, he interjected smoothly, "Please allow me to explain." His gaze swept over the gathered guests, each hanging on the precipice of his words.
Across the room, Holt, having momentarily forgotten his earlier antics, leaned forward, his previous humor giving way to curiosity. Gill, still seated alone but now more alert, adjusted his position to better hear the impending elucidation from the judge. Even the distant envoys exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of apprehension and intrigue, all united in their focus on the impending discourse from Helsong.
Holt thought, 'What could he possibly say? He's only a Judge, not a war counselor. He's always too obsessed with studies of Zepharion, trying to cram it down our throats.'
Helsong said, "You must all be expecting me to come up here and talk about Zepharion. But I've come to deliver a final message."
Arshan asked, "Helsong…what's the meaning of this?"
"Do not move, king."
At that movement, spikes made from shadows bursted from the ground, and already pierced through those spikes, were maids Vera, Lissa, and the other Judges, dead, blood spilling out on the floor.
The whole room went into a chaotic panic.
A fight was ready to happen, knights and warriors were ready to get active, but Helsong explained, "If anyone else moves, the king dies. We need him alive until Father arrives."
At that moment, Zabriel was already in his healer/assassin attire, his hoodie and mask on, his scythe was in his hand, but he did not move.
Ellie was holding a glowing dark green jagged edged dagger, and she was near the food table, thinking, 'What the hell is happening?! I knew this guy was fishy!'
Helsong smiled more, his eyes going pitch black, "Please listen to what I have to see before you all die. For the Father is coming. And I have seen true enlightenment, the true enlightenment of Zepharion!"
Gill panicked, sweating heavily, not moving an inch.
'Zabriel is not doing anything either! But I've seen how fast he was, how come he's not doing anything now?! Maybe if I was on his level, I'd be able to do something, right?'
Holt exclaimed to Helsong, "You bastard! What do you think you're doing?!"
Helsong explained, "Stop interrupting. I will explain."
In the celestial expanse that transcends the mundane realms, the Library of Infinities etches itself against the cosmos, a nexus of knowledge overseen by the enigmatic Deity of Documentation and Reality, Seraphel. She is an awe-inspiring vision, her form an ever-shifting mosaic of parchment and cosmic stardust, eyes aglow with the light of a thousand worlds. Each strand of her etherial hair, scripted with ancient runes, cascades around her luminescent frame. Today, as always, Seraphel floats gracefully amidst towering shelves stocked with tomes which chronicle every event of existence.
Surrounded by the gentle hum of narratives being endlessly penned by unseen forces, Seraphel gazes into her crystal orb—a window into the world of mortals and immortals alike. In one hand, she clutches an opulent tome, its cover embossed with scenes of creation and chaos, fingers deftly tracing the lines of depicted destinies.
Abruptly, the tranquility is shattered by a swift arrival—a wisp, urgent and quivering, its form barely holding coherence as it speaks with a voice holding the tremble of panic. "Mighty Seraphel, grave news bears I from the worldly realms! The Cult of Fable, they... they've slain the deities of Kanaan!"
Seraphel's luminescent eyes widen, the cosmic light flaring with shocked intensity. "How was I not able to document this?!" she exclaims, her voice echoing through the endless corridors of her library.
The wisp continues, its form flickering with distress. "Led they were by the Red Flame Bearer, known as Father—a mortal who dared harness fragments of Zepharion's limitless power. The Red Flame, it is said, is not merely fire but an essence of transformation and control. Under his command, they struck swiftly... Aurelia, Terrathor, Zephyra, Aquamir, Ignis, and Lunara—all fallen."
Seraphel turns swiftly, the fabric of her being swirling with agitation as she levitates closer to a specific shelf. Pulling out another volume, she begins to inscribe furiously with a quill that appears from the cosmos itself. "This must be documented. The echoes of their demise shall resonate through the fabrics of reality."
The wisp, hesitantly floating nearer, adds, "Mighty Seraphel, perhaps this eluded your gaze as it occurred in realms beyond your assigned documentation? Recall, it was similar when the pantheon conspired against Zepharion, scattering his essence across Kanaan. The higher echelon of deities might have ordained your sight to be bounded to prevent cosmic discord."
Seraphel pauses, a momentary flicker of doubt crossing her radiant features. "Indeed, such limitations might have been placed upon my watch. But no more shall such significant threads of destiny slip through the weaves of my chronicles." Determination solidifies in her voice, resonant with authority.
With the quill, she draws lines that bind tales, weaving the new tragedy into the vast expanse of known history. Each word she documents casts ripples through the shelves, updating and reorienting countless tomes in a symphony of cosmic resonance. As she records, her library pulsates with renewed purpose, ensuring that even the darkest turns of fate are captured in her eternal watch.
Seraphel then documented, "Now they're on the move I see…they're in the kingdom of Kenshire.."