Chapter I

“Who is Amaranthine?” Lady Emilia asks to the many young children who sits calmly in front of her. Her teacher-esque tone vibrantly jubilant throughout the magnificent surrounding garden that is filled with rose bushes and long-stemmed sunflowers.

            The children remain quiet yet their eyes are bursting with curiosity and intrigue.

            Lady Emilia presents a humbled and serene smile as she clears her throat to answer her own question. “Before anything was born, all that existed were three energies; positive, negative, and neutral. These three energies flowed aimlessly throughout the vast emptiness of the Unitalius. Yearning to give significance to the blatant emptiness, the three energies decided to come together and become a single entity, Amaranthine. Amaranthine is who sculpted color upon a dark canvas and created an everlasting beauty throughout the Unitalius.”

            The children in front of Lady Emilia hang on to her every word. Their adolescent faces widen in awe, further enquiring, and are ever so anxious to hear more.

            In the corner of Lady Emilia’s eyes, a very small and delicate hand shoots high into the air, straining to gain her attention.

            Lady Emilia turns to the small child.

A freckled face red-haired little girl greet her with huge violet wondering eyes. “Lady Emilia? So if Amaranthine is the one who created all things, did Amaranthine create Archaic beings too? And what about Aberrant beings? Because I was told that Aberrant’s are not even of Amaranthine’s energy.”

            “It would seem as if we have quite the intrigued younglings today,” Crown Quince interrupts, settling to stand right behind his wife, sliding a loving hand on her nearby shoulder.

            Lady Emilia’s slender and aged hand strokes her husband’s as she gazes up at him. She first greets her beloved with an adoring smile upon her wrinkled light-brown face but Lady Emilia’s delighted expression turns into a sight of worry and immediate concern as she realizes that Crown Quince’s appearance is simmering with uneasiness and profuse distress. “Children! Our lesson for today will need to come to an end. Tomorrow however, we will discuss more in depth about Amaranthine, along with the Archaic and Aberrant beings.”

            The young red-haired girl from earlier slowly stands. “Will we learn about the Written Emptiness as well, Lady Emilia?”

             “If time permits, we may,” Lady Emilia ensures without breaking eye contact with her husband.

            The red-haired girl leaps with elation. “I look forward to it. My name is Cherubella, by the way. Most people call me Bella but I prefer being called Cherub. Every time I think of my name being Cherub, I get the sensation, like a sense of meaning. Oh no, mother told me not to bother anyone with my many thoughts. Anywho… see you tomorrow, Lady Emilia.”

            Cherubella dashes off, not waiting for a response from Lady Emilia.

Their unblinking gaze only intensifies as the children she was tutoring scurry out from the garden. Analyzing her husband further, Lady Emilia notices his hands subtly shaking, the clamming sweat upon his forehead, and his body heat giving off a feverish sense. “What troubles you so?”

            “Something has happened, Emilia,” Crown Quince mutters, his voice slightly trembling and fairly weak. The image of her husband’s current state heightens her concern. “During my meditation, I saw it.”

            Lady Emilia is now the one who is uneasy and concerned. “What did you see?”

            “Terrified rains plunging in a stressful panic, pleading thunder screeching wildly inside clasping winds, and lightning clashing in a vivid array, displaying uncontrollable desires for ruin. I could even feel the demesne underneath my feet cussing with loathing intent as it ripped angrily apart,” her husband details, panting heavily and brewing concern weigh greatly evident. Something about the way he tells it seems more prophetic than a telling. “But the most difficult part of it all, Emilia, was that it was all aimed… at us.”

            Emilia brings herself intimately close to Quince with her expression growing more serious. The growing significance pushes her greying hair across her angled face as her unblinking eyes narrow. “The Written Emptiness.”

            “Upon the shades of unfortunate truth, and amongst the twilight of empty heavens, the Written Emptiness shall walk through its remorseful gates and glare down on massive ruin. Encasing her with unadulterated resolve,” Quince replies, conviction being strongly evident with each word.

            The tone of his voice echoes through the garden like a sharpening blade against metal. His hazel eyes seem to darken with his reply. Even his ivory skin seems to become a worrisome pale while talking.

            “That psalm is not to come to fruition as long as we remain steadfast in our truth,” Lady Emilia reminds her husband, while bringing her cool comforting hands to his cheeks, soothing his suddenly flushed face. “You know this, my love.”

            Crown Quince however is not one to be so easily convinced. He has always been one to become more and more stubborn within his own persuasions. He removes his face from the coolness of his wife’s security and lifts his eyes to the skies and permits the sight to linger a moment before finally exhaling his response. “And yet, look up, my wife. Watch the skies… bring yourself beyond them and gaze into what we have been entrusted to protect. Do you not see the stirring turmoil, the hinted darkness, which nears? Someone has discovered our truths and their condemning destiny have been realized because of it. We must prepare… everyone needs to prepare.”

Lady Emilia raises her profound hazel eyes and does as her husband suggests. With her five senses so refined, she reaches out; listening to the rumbles, feeling the slight tenseness throughout the grounds, tasting the souring winds, smelling the corrupting perfume of the clouds, and seeing the scorned sun carefully retreating behind it all. “Then I shall inform the others. In the meantime, what shall you do, my husband?”

“The only thing that I can do, my wife,” Quince tells, closing his eyes and bringing his mind to take over the duties of seeing. “Watch the skies.”

Beyond being Lady and Crown, an alarmed wife walks away from her disheartened husband. Both of them realizing that soon, being who they are, they will need to deal with a wakening that cares nothing about their titles or their connection and that right and wrong will become mute. All that they love and cherish and have protected will become bare and vulnerable. Most of all, they know that the unwanted threat is nearing and all they can do, is wait….

 

As the three crescents of the night rise, so falls the immense and fervent sun of the day. Upon the two representations intertwining for a brief moment, a nervous swell of thunder escapes from them. The typical swishing of winds throughout the Angellius demesne has noticeably become quiet with uncertainty and all that makes up the exotic demesne has grown still.

Using its last fragment of gleam before relinquishing the responsibilities to fill the skies, the sun reveals the cause to such bothersome effects. A man, an Archaic being wearing a hooded deep-maroon robe with tiny gold flakes throughout, is walking up the eldest and most exaggeratedly long staircase toward the Glass Sanctuary. A booming roar from the darkening skies above, announces the Archaic being arrival to the Glass Sanctuary as he reaches its entrance. The Archaic being frowns, not because of his appearance becoming so outwardly broadcast but the sudden realization that the moment he takes his first step inside the Glass Sanctuary, he will put into motion a devastation so grand that even Amaranthine will have difficulty healing it. He will no longer be looked at as the spark for a savior, but will forever be known as the catalyst for the destroyer.

            The winds push desperately against his body, forcing the elegant maroon robe of his to whip wildly, franticly attempting to have him reconsider, but it is of no use. This Archaic being is drenched in his own resolve and with one push upon the entrance doors of the Glass Sanctuary he takes a firm step inside.

             No soon as the Archaic being enters, the immeasurable entrance doors slam shut behind him, ringing intensely. This ancient haven is hardly lit and ominously quiet, yet exudes a frightening whisper and overwhelming wisdom. Through the dimness, a presence, one presence, is evident. This presence is the keeper and shield of this place.

            “Hello Roen,” a female voice greets, calmly and unwavering.

            The archaic being removes his maroon hood, revealing his sharply angled middle-aged face that has long curly greyish hair bouncing all in front. His eyes are like pure gold that seemingly hold matured and unsettled inclinations. The gleaming rays of the three crescents accentuate a very euphoric tint to his aged olive skin as he furthers into the Glass Sanctuary.

            “Good evening, Sera,” Roen replies, in a deep rich tone that echoes with unflawed precision.

            Roen walks further into the temple, and the entire Glass Sanctuary seem to brighten even more so, showcasing the structure’s complications to its imposing simplicities. As the name entails, the entire stature is made of a clear glass, and from the ceiling to the floor, each bit of glass is laced with magical cursive scribes from the origin text.

No matter the amount of light however, Sera’s silhouette remain in the dark, keeping her visual appearance well concealed. “It has been told to me that you have removed yourself from being Rune of the Angellius demesne. Is it true?”

            Roen pauses. “It is.”

            “And you reward yourself by coming here, to visit me,” Sera states, monotone. “Surely your wife and child is more needing of your presence.”

            “I plan to visit them after I depart from here,” Roen answers in a petrifying telling, bringing his focus upward toward the dome-shaped ceiling and taking in the site of the thousands of glass books, which hovers and shifts around. The energies of each of the three crescents illuminate the wordings throughout each enchanted book. The display excites him to no end but the momentary enjoyment is short lived as he returns his attention back to his cause. “Who would ever guess that there were so many books, so much knowledge… all of this concealed truth.”

“So your eyes have been unsealed,” Sera recognize.

Roen nods. “I can assure you, not only my eyes are now unsealed.

“I would wish to convince you to turn away,” Sera informs, still monotone. Her voice though, carries in a way to suggest that she is now standing. “To enjoy your time with your wife and child, and rear clear of the callous ripple effect that will occur because of your choice in being here.”

            “This is not by choice that I am here,” Roen assures her while straightening himself at the center of the Glass Sanctuary. “Destiny is what holds my resolve.”

            “Destiny?” she scolds, her tone lifts finally, but it is aimed to fill their surroundings with disappointment and disturbance. “Being here is a very one-sided and naïve way of interpreting your destiny.”

            Roen looks down and reads the origin text that is grafted into the perfectly circled glass floor beneath him. “Through your definition, I humble myself to the Psalms of Amaranthine’s Ambiance… Tell me Sera, whose one-sided interpretation is that? No one should dare alter definitions in which Amaranthine has gifted us. Yet somehow, you all have found a way.”

            “So this is what sparks your current outrage and feeling of betrayal,” Sera sighs, with heavy eyes that are filling with tears of deep regret. “I have deceived you. Words cannot describe how much I do not wish to be the catalyst of your hatred and hurt, but what you are planning to do is far worst than anything I have or any of us has done. Do you not see that? Your actions here will alter not only our world but all worlds. Amaranthine will come back to us without definition, the Written Emptiness will be reborn, and it will be because of you.”

            “Why do you mock me as if my eyes are still sealed from the truth?” he questions, his voice becoming firmer yet hints to a slight amount of emotion. “Amaranthine has returned already, and because of it, the Written Emptiness shall be reborn regardless of my actions. My destiny has only one objective, to ensure that the knowledge that you all dare to sheathe becomes rightfully… unsheathed.”

            “Then let us see if I can postpone this destiny you so strongly claim,” Sera tells, removing herself from the obscurities of the sanctuaries to also stand in the center of the Glass Sanctuary.

            The three crescents bares her ageless milky skin and give a glistening shine to her grey wavy hair, which bounces and curls over both of her shoulders. Although she is noted to be of an elderly age, and warrants an aged raspy voice, she shows minimum signs of it. Even her long white robe, bounce with timeless jubilance.

            For a brief second, Roen marvels at the sight of her extraordinarily youthful look. Above her head is a glass halo that has whispering words emanating throughout. Connected to her back are six astonishing glass-wings, which also radiates whispering words throughout.

Sera stretches out her glass-wings as she becomes completely in tune with her surroundings. The display makes Roen hesitant, but again, it is only for a brief second. His hesitance soon turns into sheer concentration and readiness. His hands still as his heartbeat take on a slower and more relaxed beat. Then, he reveals his own six glass-wings that are shaped and angled just like Sera’s. The glass books of the sanctuary, which surround the two Archaic beings, refrain from moving and the lively gazes of the three crescents watch attentively.

            Then, with a strong and assertive whip of their wings… they dash toward each other. The speed in which they move is so forceful that the proximate winds yelp with plea. The second the two Archaic beings clash at the center of the Glass Sanctuary, their punches, and kicks, and parries are just as impulsively forceful. Above them, the skies can be heard shrieking and flashing sights of alarm and petition. The two Archaics are greatly absorbed on one another and with their intensifying aggression they can do nothing but ignore the blatant apprehension of their surroundings.

Soon realizing though that neither one is gaining the upper hand, Roen slows down everything around him so he may take a deeper grasp of the now. He collapses to one knee in front of Sera, bows his head, and brings the palm of his right hand to her heart. As quickly as even time can recognize, a red circle of magical scribes form a few inches from Roen’s outstretched right palm. No soon as the circle completes, another scribe, a blue triangle of charmed signatures immediately starts to outline it. Then, as the enchanted blue triangle finishes its outline, one final shape hurries to take its place upon the display of magic… a white square.

“Omni meteor,” Roen chants with considerable concentration. “Whisper.”

Reacting to Roen’s request, the red circle, blue triangle, and white square looses their color and become old original text of a divine strength. With time beginning to catch up to Roen, Sera comprehend what is happening. She grunts with irritation and slight uneasiness to the situation of being caught off guard. Within her groan, she flips backwards a few times and as she repositions herself, she realizes that she is too late. The magical scribe of the connected circle, triangle, and square are now etched between her breast and in front of her heart. The magical scribes shift and twist with wordings that hold unparalleled magic, waiting to be unhindered.

“Whispering runes, I see,” Sera states with a bitter yet intriguingly proud smile. “You have certainly grown, Roen.”

“I have, Sera,” Roen retorts, returning the gestured smile. “So much to the point that I am no longer adolescent to believe that whispering runes, even with its indescribable potency, could end your existence.”

Sera’s smile of unpleasantness widens. “When did you become so wise?”

The corners of Roen’s smile falls to reveal a most sinister frown. “The second I removed myself from you.”

 “Your remarks mirror a voice that I had long thought forgotten,” she complains, straightening herself and allowing her mind to recall a young time of her life.

“Be confident in knowing… that voice… his voice… is a voice that had never forgotten you, Sera,” Roen interrupts. “He is who showed me how to see through the blocking clouds, and shielding stars, and discover the honesties that is so cleverly hidden beyond your glorified heavens, prisons amongst the emptiness.”

“I see now how much of his influence is bestowed upon you,” Sera tells sadly, as her eyes examine every bit of he who is before her. She takes note to how Roen’s long white hair sways with the hissing wind although never quite interrupting his line of vision. His robe waves to the winds as well, but only to seemingly display youthful muscles through a sculpted physique. His hands however are the most telling to Sera as they do not tremble even in the slightest. They tell of his commitment and absolute poise for the moment… this moment. With every word spoken between the two, his hands refuse to move with pretense but instead assurance.

“Then you must also see just how steadfast I am,” Roen provokes, bringing his gaze back to lock with hers.

“I do,” Sera promises, unshaken in her tone. “And it is because of this fact, I must not allow your presence to linger here any longer.”

“I’m ready when you are, Sera,” Roen assures, without worry.

With one intense flap of her wings, Sera thrust herself high into the air. She pauses in midair and glares down at her foe.

Time slows once more, the movements of the world around them calm, and the colorful gleams from the three crescents brighten watchfully.

“Halo’s reflection,” Sera commands, aiming her right hand into the heavens. “Whisper.”

Scribes of whispering words form a halo, a few inches away from her extended arm and hand. While keeping her right arm unfolded and hand stretched, she lowers the whispering scribed halo and aims it at Roen.

“One of the very few magical scribes that is capable of neutralizing Omni Meteor,” Roen mutters with a nerving smirk.

Sera slams the halo into her own chest, right on top of the whispering rune that Roen had placed on her earlier.

“Does my response to your whispering runes surprise you?” she asks after a gasping delay passes.

Roen replies with a significantly grown smirk. “Not even in the slightest. However, I must inform you. Your rebuttal is ill-placed… for you mistake intent.”

“Then enlighten me,” Sera demands, her tone growing cold and detached.

Roen holds up one finger. “First, I needed to see how to perform the Halo’s Reflection, to understand it, to speak to it.”

“So that it may become your weapon,” she confirms, almost to herself as she begins to measure her error.

Roen nods while raising a second finger. “Furthermore, my Omni Meteor was never intended to be used against you. You are merely my vessel to preserve my true calamity.”

Sera takes a moment to really take in what Roen is explaining to her. Then, as his words become clearer to her, Sera’s eyes immediately widen with disbelief. “You plan to release it after my death… against… them.”

Roen’s smirk becomes a fully satisfied smile.

He leans his head back to once more stare up at the hundreds of glass books above. “They will read them all, Sera. Once they do, they will share that knowledge with those who have not, nor will not, become corrupted by gaining such wisdom. And then, everything that has been held to such a high degree by all of you, we will make fall… and all will collapse… into ruin.”

Tears run down both cheeks of Sera’s face. She is at a loss by Roen’s true meaning. His destiny could never be clearer to her and because of this knowing, she is left with only one choice. “Tranquility of the Glass Being, my Sagacity Devastation… Unlock.”

Responding to her call, Sera’s entire body becomes glass and a glowing darkness fills her. The darkness oozes from her like a slow dispersing fog. Underneath her, the glass floor slowly swallows it and begins to radiate the energy. The three crescents above hurry to retreat from it as the darkness lifts into the air and the Glass Sanctuary starts to engulf it. Sera’s darkness soon become like keys, unlocking all the glass books inside the Sanctuary.

            “You look to erase the knowledge,” Roen replies as he watches the key shaped darkness, open every book in unison. “Now let me show you MY darkness.”

            He reveals his weapon to Sera, a glass book with the engravings, Twelve Bells of the Hymn.

            Sera’s eyes narrow upon the weapon and hurries toward it. Unfortunately for her, Roen has already opened the book and has begun to read the first hymn. “Through movement, you rebuke my path. Therefore, be still… and forever remorseful.”

The first deep toned bell sounds, reflecting a ripple of Roen’s essence, just as Sera unsheathes her begotten sword of purity and is within a hair’s distance from touching Roen’s weapon and ripping through it… Sera is suddenly immobilized.

Roen flips a few pages further and reads the next hymn. “Through sight, you rebuke my eyes. Therefore, be without display… and forever be lost.”

The second rich toned bell echoes through the sanctuary.

Tears curve down sorrowed cheeks as one rejected color after another drains from her absent vision. The ability to see has been removed from her to the point that the typically comforting darkness is desperately trying to discover a definition, which would allow itself to escape from her.

“They will end you, Roen,” Sera forces out through a splintering voice. “And everything that you desire will fail. Destiny of the destined will never occur �" ”

The next bell of the hymn crackles with a thunderous pitch, crushing Sera’s voice. Roen’s eyes deepen with anger as he walks closer up to the one who antagonizes him. “Through speech, you rebuke my voice. Therefore, be without tone… no longer to sing blasphemous hymns in the direction of inviting ears.”

Roen carefully glides his hand across the blade of Sera’s glass sword, cutting himself and letting his blood to drip down the entirety of the weapon. He then caresses Sera’s cheek with his bloodied hand.

“This does not have to be,” Sera pleads, speaking to Roen through mind. “You can still stop this… please my �" ”

“Be at peace,” Roen interrupts, breaking the momentary connection with Sera and removing his hand from her face. He stands upright and opens the Twelve Bells of the Hymn in a way where the pages of the book flap wildly. “Our conversing has lingered enough. I shall release all twelve bells and your existence will be no longer… farewell… my mother.”

The twelve bells of Roen’s omnipotent weapon ring in an unspoken psalm, pausing Sera’s darkness from continuing to consume the sanctuary. Sera is able to move again but she is completely without energy and can do nothing except collapse.

Soon, it is Roen’s darkness that engulfs the Glass Sanctuary. In the midst of his overbearing darkness, Sera’s glass halo and numerous wings shatter upon the dense weight of his wrath. As the twelfth defining bell rings, Sera’s heart submits, her essence evaporates, and the existence of a forsaken mother becomes no more.

Roen exhales with honed purpose for he knows of his own destiny. He thinks to his reasoning, believes in his darkness, and acknowledges that he has now set in motion to be the true antagonist of Amaranthine’s Angellius Demesne.