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NOTE: Alright, here's a different approach I'm going to try, this is basically a retelling of what I had done originally, I have just the beginning so far along with some other parts that should come up later. The beginning prologue is a bit old, but that's only because I can't seem to find the inspiration to write a new one, but you know how it is . So without further ado:

Saga of Senia

Prologue: Origins I

Legends tell the tale of Goddess Hinariath’s ascension.

It was in the very first age of men, when the vast armies of Valicia poured forth from the arctic and plunged all the lands of Senia in war. In those times, Valica was a sole kingdom in a world of primal tribes and fledging civilizations. An isolated nation of spiraling metropolises that rivaled the highest of mountain peaks that claimed the arctic tundra of the north. They boasted great wealth and splendor, unsurpassed military might amongst their rivals and possessed an insatiable lust for knowledge.

Many primitive peoples had already found themselves hard pressed to match their adversaries’ superior military prowess, but with the pillars of flame they rained upon villages and the great storms that they called from the skies, wherever the Valcians cast their gaze, nations crumbled and fell without the slightest whisper.

Ni’halia, the Valician Goddess that entrusted and blessed her people with so much, wept at the atrocities they committed with her stolen powers in their campaign for conquest. With bitter scorn she cast her wrath upon them, cursing her children and all the lands that they claimed. And so did the corruption of the crystal ice ignite like wild fire across the frozen wastes.

It ravaged and transformed the landscape, reshaping everything it touched into a twisted reflection of its own image. Jutting spires of fiery orange, rolling crimson hills, mountains of sapphire and frozen lakes of violet, the substance continued to expand till all of Valicia was consumed by it.

It tainted much of her waters and poisoned its forests, carrying an unholy plague of such magnitude that left entire metropolises of untold thousands nothing more than desolate husks. Their wild life was altered, some species evolving into primitive sentient creatures while others were mutated into far more savage and ferocious beasts of many tales. Within the span of a fleeting year, Valicia had become a perilous wasteland with dwindling resources.

The Ishal’na. It is often said to be a great tome forged by Ni’halia herself, containing all her powers and her infinite wisdom. Centuries before these events, when there was a great schism in the lands of paradise, the holy relic was cast from the very stars of heaven and into the hands of her descendents. The Goddess charged Valicia with its protection, declared forbidden to all and to be guarded for an eternity.

With this artifact, King Avernon learned many of his Goddess’ powers and became something akin to a demi-god himself. Though he could not eradicate the crystal ice itself, he nullified the horrific plagues beset upon them, cast great wards upon the remains of his civilization that immunized them from the curse, and bent the races of beast that preyed upon his kingdom to his will. Countering Ni’halia’s fury, he pressed on with his global campaign to subdue Senia.

In the land of unending valleys and rushing rivers of the foreign lands existed an allegiance of humble towns of a people whose name was lost in time. And they were one of many who fought the Valcians, forced into a desperate war for survival.

Every passing day, these people sought the aid of the gods in their struggle, erecting great pyres in the heart of their settlements and sacrificing nearly all they had even as they continued to lose foothold after foothold.

Their idols did not see these pleading souls, but Ni’halia did and she wept sorrowfully for them. Finally coming to the conclusion that Valicia would not atone and right the wrongs done, the Goddess of mysticism decided that would she lend more of her aid to these townspeople than she would to any other.

And so did Ni’halia begin pouring half her strength into crafting an avatar, no, a sister in the people of the valley’s image. She knew full well that combating magic with magic upon such scale would be cataclysmic, so she gifted her kin-to-be with a mind of unparallel knowledge of earthly works and technology.

The towering angel: A ten foot deity of flawless beauty, with beaming emerald eyes and flowing chestnut colored hair. Her radiant and forbidden figure was clad in heavy plate of glittering silver masterfully crafted for only a god to wear; Ni’Halia concluded that she would be a divine warrior as well as a benevolent ruler. She wielded a massive claymore of shimmering gold engraved with burning runes of sapphire. Overshadowing her entire body were angelic wings nearly tall as her, holding her aloft and carrying through clouds of earth and toward her destiny.

The nameless goddess descended upon the final battle between the townspeople and the Valicians with a great battle cry that cracked like thunder across the entire field. Though she inspired as much fear as awe in the allied clans, their panic somehow fled them, replaced with unbreakable courage and determination that they couldn’t explain.

The otherworldly figure aimed her blade at the Valician formation and sounded the charge. The tribes threw themselves back into the battle, rallied with just a gesture as they knew their divine aid had at long last come. Radiating with some unknown aura, the magic thrown at the fighting Goddess was nullified or reflected outright. With her great claymore, she slew the largest and vilest of the twisted creatures their adversaries had to offer with a single stroke.

What mortal blades that kissed her armor instantly crumbled and bent beneath their own blows, their owners instantly igniting in cleansing flame and sent flailing to their deaths. Her wings collapsed whole battalions with powerful gust as she landed amongst them, not sparing any a chance to reclaim their footing as she flicked her sword left and right.

When the full moon of midnight bathed the battlefield, the Valicians broke in the wake of the onslaught. But the Goddess proved ten steps ahead, leaving the battle early and reaping a grievous toll on the anchored fleet at the edge of the Unvial Sea.

Few of the enemy’s number escaped that day and back into the cursed wastes of the arctic, King Avernon one among them. When the battle was said and done, the people of the valleys kneeled before their savior. But the war had not ended; there was much work to be done.

It would be many centuries before the next battle would be fought and in that time, the divine heroine lived amongst those she had delivered. She had them build a temple for her to take refuge: a massive forge of white marble.

When the structure was completed, it’s said that she locked herself within for weeks on end in total solitude. When she did emerge, it was with a Tome of her own, the Myendas. And she gifted the townspeople with the book of knowledge and through it, learned many things.
In the passing centuries, the people of the plains experienced a prosperity that not even the Valicians could speak of. The population booming with unprecedented speed, the tribesman began practicing what they had been taught and began building splendorous cities of glistening steel and white marble across the valleys, soon becoming a dominant realm of their own. Many of the lesser tribes arrived to join and those that wouldn’t submit fled across the oceans further south for new land to settle.

And in those times, the Goddess grew attached to these people and them to her. She loved them stronger than any mortal emotion and swore to protect them onto eternity. At the peak of their power, she declared these people her children and they rejoiced in it.

They praised her and called their immortal guardian Hinariath and in turn she bestowed upon their realm the name of Hailadon.

Chapter One: Shadowed Blight

“Is there any particular reason you wish this soul… released from my devout care?” Michelle swiveled around in her fine mahogany chair to face Selyene. Soft, lavender eyes peered into the soulless black orbs of her master and she suppressed a small quiver in hopes of not tarnishing herself with such a rude gesture.

“Michelle, truly, it is such a delight having these conversations with you, on a beautiful snowy day no less. I shall miss some of your arrogance when you are older, my ever loyal and steadfast Warden. Pray tell, shall you rise and walk with me for a midday conversation? I would be most bemused.” Selyene gestured towards the open window allowing the cold gust to ripple through the room, blowing papers off the Warden’s desk, but if she cared she showed little sign. “Come; let us discuss the fate of a few of our undesirables.”

“Of course, your highness, I would be honored to be in your presence.” Michelle suppressed a yawn with proper politeness, lifting her feet off the ocean of papers piled upon her desk and ignoring them. Selyene quietly observed her subordinate standing in her snow white and lavender robes woven around her like a second skin and smiled at the broad contrast between the two sisters. Silky black hair softly grazed the edge of Michelle’s neck covered in a loose leopard skin of partially melted white that had come through the window while hers was long, abundant, and untarnished. “I will admit, you have me curious with all of your little side projects and guinea pigs, but I do not like that you’re going through my convicts to sate your knowledge thirst.”

“Ah sister, ever the gloomy one, constantly playing the lonely dungeon keeper with your cruel antics.” Selyene’s facial features were worn ever so slightly by maturity and age, marking her as the elder of the twins. Her gaze held wisdom and nobility while her young sister embodied passion and wit in her brilliant displays of youth. “You’re sad because I take what rightly belongs to Irothis? It is time you realized that you cannot have everything simply by keeping it tucked away.”

Michelle slowly made her way around the desk to offer a hand to the waiting Selyene, who took the polite gesture with a knowing smile. She rose to her feet in her black and ruby dress, looking every part of royalty as she did so with grace and practiced fluidity. Standing on her feet, the heir of Household Nagasa stood two heads over her younger sister.

“Please, I do not bat an eyelash for such rabble, let alone care, sister.” Michelle couldn’t hide her abrasive snort, cheeks flushing slightly as Selyene cast her stalwart gaze over her quarters.

“Such boring work barely makes a difference in the eyes of Irothis, Michelle, and is beneath you. I do not see the thrill that accompanies fighting alongside the lower class idealists.” Selyene turned lightly on her heel towards the door, Michelle’s hand in hers, and turned to address her bodyguards as she led her toward the door. “Do make sure that you keep your weapons out of sight. I would hate to disturbed the diligent citizens that work and toil here.”

The Warden and the Queen stepped out of that cramped room and into a broad hall lit only by the clouded sun and smoldering candlelight off in the darker recesses of the place. Artifical lights blared from within open doors and created a flux of colors as one moved up and down the straight path. The pleasant smell of incense lingered thickly in the smokey air and created a sense of calm in the traditional structure, built of walls of unadorned shoji and fine waxed wood. Together they proceeded deeper into the halls of Castle Dyani.

Black robed Wardens and armored soldiers that roamed the halls parted like the oceans before a great prophet to allow the Queen and her entourage to pass. They all bowed to pay respects to the passing royalty in their presence, more or less silent even as the two sisters continued on with their conversation.

“You’re always repeating yourself when it comes to my line of duty for Irothis,” The Warden’s eyes glinted with little interest. “Makes me wonder what would become of me if I were heir to the throne.”

“I’m sure such destinies would forever change your heart and cold demeanor, a nation has its ways of seeping into your heart. When the time comes, you will hear of the people’s woes and it will be your divine right and pleasure to bestow upon them measured blessings as well. You will actually care about the future that must be paved for future generations, preserving not only your own legacy, but that of the royal family and country.” Selyene wove her words with honey even as she spoke, but Michelle could see that they held a glimmer of truth in them.

“Well enough about that for now. So what about this prisoner that you want?” The Commander Warden had brought with her some files pertaining to the issue, flicking through each of them with careful examination as she spoke.

“Hmmm, I do not think I simply want just this one. Now that I’ve had some time to ponder the idea, I would like a few at least.” The Queen smiled her gracious smile and waved her hand apologetically.

“Names, Selyene, I need names,” Michelle muttered darkly, appearing to want to slam down her papers for a moment before continuing coolly. “I need to do some proper background checks as I’m sure you don’t want your average cut throat or rapist.”

“See to it that you do, however, I do want the one on the list for execution: Jasaris Sil and that other boy: Anathis Anlith. Please bring me those two if no one else, Michelle. One of my guards here will give you the rest.” The Queen gave her order and Michelle, feeling somewhat at a lost for control of the situation, felt compelled to comply.

“I shall see to matters personally, my Queen. We will have them lined up for your inspection as soon as possible, at your behest of course.” The Warden instantly began thinking about which guards she could round up for the job, surely it wouldn’t be difficult, but what was the fun in not giving prisoners a hard time? She received the wad of papers handed to her by one of her personal guards and quickly went through them.

“Bring them into the prison courtyards at nightfall; there I will proceed to inspect them personally. Oh and make sure that they are brought into line beforehand.”

“A usual procedure here, a necessary chore.” A mischievous smirk played on the younger twin’s lips, mentally rubbing her hands together as she thought up a few names.
-------------------------

The thunderous ripple of gunfire was only getting closer; it would pause for a long while then begin afresh as more prisoners were herded from their cellblocks and into the killing fields. Jasairis observed the chaos playing out from the far end of his cell, locked into a room of cold metal by bars of heavy iron. Artificial light rained down from the ceiling and onto the facility, washing the prison in a sterile glow that gave light to the hundred black robed and armored guards masked in black helms pulling open random cells and dragging out screaming prisoners into the white light of the small cafeteria in the center of the prison block.

Jasairis was tucked away on the very bottom of a half a dozen floors, not oblivious to the amount of fighting the prison Wardens had to deal with. Teams of officers stood aside on the higher levels, looking over the chaos with fearsome automatic weapons. The rest had to drag the bulky masses of convicts with two to three pairs of arms for each of them, shepherding them down endless flights of stairs toward the main exit. One by one, over a hundred of them had eventually disappeared through the mechanical automated doors, soon followed by the sound of gunfire.

Degenerate curses were sworn, full blown arguments were ensuing, and confrontations were playing out in the crowded prison block. Whoever the guards passed over for the day they endlessly threatened to stay in the very back of their cells. They openly taunted those who were not going to be a part of today’s killings, beating on their cell bars with steel batons and even wailing remorselessly on prisoners who seemed intent on resisting. Bloodied, bruised, and somewhat broken, they all eventually disappeared into the clouding light emanating from outside those doors.

Soon fresh convicts would be thrown into the gauntlet, maybe even as early as next morning to meet their maker at an untimely end. Sometimes days would pass before the Wardens swept in and decided to empty the death row all together. In those days that they did not, they would leave prisoners in their cells for days, only entering this part of the prison for an occasional check of things or to feed them. That appeared to be the way of things from what Jasairis could discern of the few days that he had been in here.

“Ah, and here he is, just waiting to tempt fate like all of the others, or is that part of your life repented for, heathen?” The shadow of a figure suddenly eclipsed his light, falling over him like an ominous cloud. Her voice was smooth and harsh, rolling off her tongue with the same cruel judgment that radiated from her soft, lavender eyes. Jasairis could easily discern the mockery in her tone and suddenly rose, emerging from out of the darkness of his cell corner and into view from the cell bars. “Aren’t you going to talk to me? That’s right; let me see your face.”

There was another Officer by Michelle’s side, though she appeared somewhat lacking in physical constitution compared to most other guards. Judging by the stack of files carried in a leather bag slung over her shoulder, Jasairis assumed she was an attendant of some sort. She kept glaring at him with her blank expression, sparing an occasional glance back to her papers in hand again and again. She occasionally nodded with her words as she relayed them back to her superior.

“Hair is somewhat long, eyes seem sharp enough, has a lean body, strange posture, but doable… I can’t really place any degree of importance on him at face value, we will have to wait and see what the royal heir says.”

“Thank you, Ise, it is as I thought: there is nothing special about this one. Take him out!” Michelle barked at a trio of Wardens dressed in attire similar to hers and they suddenly mobilized into action, approaching the cell with an air of caution mixed with timely practice.

“Aww, you look so fitting in that grey jumpsuit, Jasairis.” A moment later the gate of the cell flew open and immediately, two pairs of strong arms wrapped around his own lean ones and hurled him onto the edge of his toes as they dragged him before the Commander Warden. “Knock him out.”

Before Jasairis could even open his mouth to protest, the edge of a steel baton cracked over his left temple and suddenly the world turned blurry. All he could hear were the Wardens talking amongst themselves and Michelle’s soft, haunting laughter as he felt himself being dragged from across the floor. They had traversed flights of stairs and entire floors were left behind as they reached up higher and higher into the castle dungeon, going essentially the opposite way of the killing fields. But by the time he had figured that out, everything shortly went black.

-------------

The cool winter gust slapped him like a rush of cold water and had succeeded in awakening him to finally see where the Wardens had been dragging him this entire time. His eyes could make out the surrounding pagoda like structures of Castle Dyani rise out of the snow storm. He had seen the Castle from the outside once, it was built upon multiple layers that resembled terraces. Each of them held a swathe of buildings and their own open spaces, making it feel much less condensed and open. The entire structure was built on top of its own high wall foundation and stood as a defiant feat of Irothis’ architecture and engineering.

The half crescent moon waned in the cloud light and the skies were visibly dark. It seemed as quiet as one would expect on a pleasant night with only the whispers of the wind and falling snow to keep to you company. The moon seemed far closer than it would naturally appear from the Earth itself and Jasairis wondered how far they were above the ground.

The way his limbs ached told him they had been dragging him for a long time and he sputtered a mild curse at the aching in his temple. He felt torn between being relieved that he had not been thrown into another cell or being brought before waiting riflemen and what they were actually going to do to him whenever they arrived at their destination.

“Where are we?” He croaked finally, looking around the open courtyard that was now filled with fresh snow.

“Hit him over the head again!” One of the guards carrying him spat, automatically reaching for his baton with instinctive urgency.

“Uh, uh, uh!” The same guard looked back over his shoulder to see Michelle wagging her finger. “We’re almost there; he doesn’t need to be unconscious when Selyene arrives!”

“Of course, Warden Michelle.” The guard sounded somewhat chastised and let the thought perish, still dragging Jasairis one handed across the snow and for a moment the convict thought he was going to drop him onto the concrete that surely laid beneath.

“It never amazes me that we have our recreation areas for convicts so far up in the castle. Oh well, at least they know there is no way to escape this high up in the air.” Michelle was blabbering to no one in particular, and then decided to address their new found inmate. “Ah, you know Jasairis, I am glad you’re awake, so now I can be honest with you. I’ve seen your record and you’re not half as bad as I made you out to be. You must understand- most of those criminals in those cells with you are some of the worst. I gladly have them herded out each day to face the consequences of the actions that had led them astray and ultimately, into my cells. I admit, simply being in with that lesser rabble, I had initially overlooked you, guilt by association or so they say.”

“But tonight, your luck finally changes.” Michelle began to set a pace for the small building they were beginning to near, passing Jasairis and her lackeys that were carrying him. “Take him in with the others, then, Jasairis, she will be waiting for you. But you will not see her as you are now; you need a little sprucing up.”

The third Warden that had been trailing them the entire time with a rifle in hand moved out in front of them to open the doors leading inside. She pressed a series of digits on the keypad and a wave of light swept over her face, confirming her identity in the system. The doors slid open like they were actually light of weight, beyond them was an abyssal black that made Jasairis want to stop in his tracks.

There was a blood curdling scream and a man, dressed in a familiar grey jumpsuit leapt out from the darkness. Angry shouts and whizzing bullets followed him in his tracks, none of them seeming to do their job in deterring him. His sudden appearance took the woman warden completely off guard and the freed prisoner immediately pounced on her when he saw his escape route suddenly cut off.

A rattle of automatic fire rang out in the haunting silence and three bloody holes suddenly appeared in the man’s head, arm, and the side of his ribcage as he toppled without another sound. Two guards immediately rushed out of the building to secure the prisoner, but stopped short when they came across his still form with the Warden lying underneath. She kicked the dead inmate off of him and one of the officers helped her to her feet.

“Damn idiot, take the cuffs off these scum for one second…” Michelle uttered darkly, no sympathy or remorse in her tone. “Can’t even get a haircut and shower?”

“Haircut and shower?” Jasairis reiterated her words, confusion setting in his tone.

“You are not like the rest are you, Sil? Don’t worry, soon you will find others like you.” The Commander Warden smiled and gestured for him to walk inside. “I think he can stand on his own now, boys, just follow him closely.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The pair of guards slowly lowered Jasairis onto his feet and his bare skin felt the numbness of the snow for the first time in he didn’t know how many months. One of them nudged him onward and he strode through the unwelcoming doors of the large, temple like structure.

There were very dim white lights within the ominous building’s interior and what little Jasairis could discern from them was that it was a maze of paths to maneuver through. This was not a place that was visited regularly by normal people, that much was certain. He could tell by the dank, concrete walls and hard tile floors that it was meant for someone who was use to a
more Spartan existence.

“This way.” One of the guards corrected his sudden movement with a tap of his baton, pointing him down the straightest path. “Go.”

There was a strange buzzing noise that could be heard over the extremely loud air conditioning and also the sound of rushing water. The closer he approached to one of the doors; he could hear quiet murmurings behind them. The guards that walked with him appeared to be listening as well, but unfazed, only when they finally approached a door with no sound emitting from it whatsoever did they tell him to stop and guide him in.

“Take a seat.”

The soldier waiting in the room was a massive six and a half foot wall of muscle and was leaning against the wall when they had barged in. His camouflage combat suit was a very dark tint, made up of the most obscured colors that barely made the pattern visible. An ammunition belt was strapped over his fatigues, but he didn’t seem to be wearing any bullet resistant armor – not that he needed any. The unnamed soldier held something strange and metal in his hands and the closer Jasairis inspected it, he could see it was a pair of clippers.

The barber immediately gestured for him to sit in the sturdy black chair bolted down in the middle of the room. Jasairis did so without having to be told again, awkwardly taking the seat for himself and taking in the rest of the room at a glance. It was surprisingly sterile and clean, yet somehow dirty looking to him, he wondered if he had been the first to come here or if anyone else would come after him.

The two Wardens that had escorted him in suddenly began to file out of the room, closing the door behind them. The soldier began with finding a cape from one of his boxes in the corner of the room and wrapped it around Jasairis’ neck. Next he took a look at the convict’s hair and even Jasairis could feel him snarl and grunt with disapproval. He grabbed the right size of guard, a comb, and a towel, but proceeded to utter something that Jasairis inwardly cringed at.

“Inmates should only have one cut.”

And so Jasairis suddenly found himself in that room for the next fifteen minutes, feeling every ounce of skill the Barber had being poured in to give him a more appropriate cut. Entire clumps of his hair fell from his head, following by combing, and then a repeat until most of it was lying in his lap or on the floor. He actually felt little when the Barber showed him the end result through a mirror that had been mounted onto one of the walls.

Jasairis stared back at himself with curious eyes and somewhat smirked when he realized the unnamed soldier had given him a very low buzz cut similar to his own. The violet of his eyes seemed somewhat determined and still partially fearful, but soon he realized that they were the centerpiece of his face now that the hair wasn’t hiding his sight anymore. His pale skin spoke of Irothian descent, but a shade darker spoke of another race coursing through his veins.

“I never will be ashamed, Illyia.” He uttered with a degree more resolve, perhaps he was feeling the winds of change on his fate?

“Make her proud, son.” The Barber slapped him on the shoulder as the doors once again opened and two familiar faces again appeared to guide him out.

“Let’s go.”

Jasairis stood up and was guided even further down the hall, this time coming closer and closer toward the sound of running water he had heard earlier before. This time they were traversing through the narrow corridors as if it were a maze, one that they knew the inner workings of. He was still amazed how there seemed to be people present in this building, yet they had not come across a single soul.

Jasairis’ previous thoughts were interrupted when his escorts told him to take a sudden left into an old designed shower room. It was surprisingly empty and barren of anything save for towels and a few rows of lockers. Yet the tile was wet and slippery to the touch, telling him that others had indeed been in here.

“Here.” One of Michelle’s lackeys kicked open a locker, revealing a fresh combat suit lying inside complemented with a suit of armor. “Put that on when you’re done.”

“And I’m supposed to know how to put that on by myself, do I?” Jasairis responded skeptically, looking a bit apprehensive.

“What? You want me to show you?” The same guard spat mockingly and the other one broke out in a fit of laughter. “Put the “fatigues” on, not the armor, got it?”

“Yeah I guess I’ll figure that out myself, easy enough anyway.” Jasairis uttered and waved them out and they obliged, walking away to no doubt take up guard just outside the door.

Jasairis took off his clothes and took a random shower head, turning it on and allowing the barely warm water to wash the muck and dirt off of his skin. He ran a hand through his barely existent hair on his head and let out a relieved sigh. He couldn’t help but think of what was happening just half an hour beforehand, watching all those people go to their deaths. It was sickening to him, to be honest.

There was a loud squeak, followed by a sudden burst of falling water beside him and he turned to see someone stepping into the adjacent shower. Both of their heads were visible and the two of them exchanged curious glances for a moment, eyeing each other cautiously.

“Everyone’s getting the same cuts today, huh? Barber’s special I guess. Glad I’m not one of you guys!” The man was somewhat built, way more than
Jasairis and he spoke in a voice that belied his appearance. His bright red eyes glanced in his direction as he spared himself a small laugh. He was of a descent that had obviously originated nowhere around Irothis, he could tell that by his chestnut colored skin. His hair was a reddish hue of brown and came down to around his eyes and Jasairis wondered where he hailed from.

“Yeah, it was definitely needed.” Jasairis played his game for the while; it would have been awkward otherwise. “Soldiers definitely seem different than the Wardens or the guards, those bastards keep cracking down no matter what.”

“I don’t really come from where you do then, my friend, must’ve come up from the Executioner’s row.”

“Guess everyone hears about that place at some point in their lives here, huh?” Jasairis attempted to shake the memories, but they kept plaguing him. He was never really one for prayer, but he found himself silently thanking Ni’halia that he had been finally brought out of there. He didn’t know whether that was premature or not, he didn’t even know if they were going to throw him back in.

“So what are you in for? The name’s Anathis by the way, Anathis Anlith.”

“Jasairis Sil and I’m in for something foolish that I did a long time ago.”

“Aren’t we all?” Anathis grinned widely. “I’m guessing you’re here the conscription then?”

“Conscription?” Jasairis huffed in disbelief, allowing himself a somber laugh at Anathis’ words. “What is this you speak of? I remember such things happening when I was a child, my mother actually was a volunteer. They say they happen once in a generation, but it must’ve been at least twenty three years ago.”

“Well, why do you think they want you to put that uniform on?”

“I thought it was so I could look well for my coffin and burial, maybe masked how they shot me to the public.”

“You’re a grim thinker, Sil. I guess you’ll need that. We’ll find out soon, right?”

Jasairis switched the shower head off and peered at Anathis, then shrugged before walking out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He opened up the locker the Warden had kicked in earlier, and took out the combat suit. It was a very dark tint of camouflage that he had seen the barber where and began putting on everything required to wear it before putting it on. Anathis quickly showed him some pointers on how to make it look proper and the two of them emerged from that dirty room new men.

The pair of Wardens that had been showing Jasairis around turned from the other group of prison guards that were likewise looking after Anathis to examine him as he came out into the hall. All of them grunted in approval and began to take up the task of shepherding the convict and former soldier toward another destination. They came close to the entrance that they had originally came through, but were instead thrown into another poorly lit space before having the door shut on them again.

“Wait here.” One of the guard’s had spoken before shutting the way behind them.

“So this is where everyone is?” Anathis breathed as he looked over the four dozen strangers all sitting down on a couple of benches that occupied the room. They were all dressed similar to Jasairis and himself and looked at them with blank faces. There were both men and women, and all of them seemed beat up in a way, Jasairis was certain that there were plenty of backgrounds to be shared by them.

“I hope to the Goddess that our luck changes soon.” Jasairis whispered to himself and moved to take a seat amongst the others.

I must say you show great skill in making your world, and characters come alive. I found myself really enjoying this, hope to see more of your work.

Many thanks, Trondheim, really appreciate it ! I still have some free time on my hands so I'll see if I can get anymore up soon.

Ah, this one was kind of messy for me in that it didn't seem to mesh well with the mood of the beginning scenes. I think this is the third rewrite? It still may need to be a little darker, as always, any input is welcome!

EDIT: The New Word will be updated soon .

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Jasairis hadn't ever really been too shocked by the things he had seen in prison, in there, people were simply trying to survive and make a living. Getting himself thrown into death row had been a huge mistake simply because he did not calculate the consequences his actions would bring when he had done them. He was no murderer, not a thief, definitely not a rapist, and though it took some time for her to realize that, eventually Michelle did in some miraculous revelation.

He knew that Wardens were always distrustful of those who lived above law or merely thought that they did, but he had never seen the extent of such issues that could be perceived as trivial by a few could ultimately spiral out of control. Really, the problem was stemming from all sorts of issues: living in constant fear of being fatally mauled by some repressed individual they knew little about, the lives lost attempting to bring order and their twisted sense of justice to those individuals, and the hatred that stemmed from both of those examples.

It wasn’t easy being surrounded by those you know loathes you, especially when they travel in large packs to keep yourself secure and in order. It’s even more difficult when they know that you and everyone else chained up with you despises them with a similar hatred. The Wardens didn’t seem to relax even after they barged back into the room in numbers. They kept their guns held tightly across their chests or leveled at suspicious looking individuals and he wondered if they were ever going to lower them at some point. Of course, he wasn’t going to be the one telling to them back off unless he wanted to take a steel baton to the knee or worse.

“You know you never told me what you’re in for?” Anathis whispered from his spot beside him, looking as curious as ever. “Must be something big if you’ve been thrown into executioner’s waiting cells.”

“You never told why you’re exactly here yourself, besides conscription.” Jasairis replied reluctantly, keeping a wary eye out for any sign that could give away the Wardens’ intentions of keeping them locked in here.

“Oh did I not now?” His strange friend winked with a wide grin. “Well I suppose it doesn’t hurt anyone, I’m an ex-soldier actually, from the land of Eos. Heard of it by any chance?”

“Most children learn it on maps now of days. Of course I’ve heard of it. You’re a long way from home my friend.”

“I first came to Irothis around half a decade ago, thought I’d tour the sights and such, find some exotic women. You know how things are.” Anathis shrugged off the awkward tension besetting everyone crammed into that small room with a hearty laugh, which drew the attention of a few other inmates.
“I’ve been living here ever since, enduring the harsh winter climate and I eventually seek to go Valicia one day if only just to lay eyes on the forgotten kingdom. If my blood doesn’t freeze over by then, at least. Like I said, I’m not necessarily a prisoner, but I’ve been called in to sign up. I doubt a lot of these people are.”

“Well, I think I’d be foolish to ask, but I’ll go ahead and ask anyway. You willingly came to a land ruled over by egotistical warlords in a time of impending war just for some sight-seeing and fast women? No wonder you’re in here with the rest of us, just waiting to die at someone’s behest like sheltered animals no one wants to keep anymore. ” One of the inmates finally spoke up: a striking woman with oceanic eyes and vibrant white skin suddenly questioned with a dangerous darkness deep within her gaze. Her face was tattooed in several places, a unique face in an ocean of un-significant people. Her skin seemed unusually rich and immediately, Jasairis could guess that she had some generous amount of Valician blood in her body. She glared at Jasairis with an unsettling smile and gestured in Anathis’ direction. “What brings you two into Kalin’nos? You don’t appear to be looking to strike fortune with some of the marked ladies in here.”

“I was under the impression that I didn’t know gak like everyone else here.” Jasairis grumbled in slight irritation, regarding her with an eye of caution. “The hell does “marked” even mean?”

“Easy half-blood,” The Valician swept some of her incredibly long and flowing hair off her chest to emphasize her tattoos. “You know, “marked”, I am not speaking among kin?”

An awkward silence passed between the three while Jasairis and Anathis exchanged confused glances with one another. Anathis answered her with a careless shrug and simply shook his head gravely. Jasairis however, leaned in closer to her to inspect her strange tattoos and she allowed him to pull back her silky light ochre hair to reveal the symbol imprinted onto the back of her hand.

“I think you misunderstand, I’m not related to your people.” He held up his own hand to show her an identical image of a pair of crossed blades held under a howling wolf’s head: The Crest of Household Nagasa.

“It’s called a Vi, half-blood, or a spiritual bond as you would call. One does not have to be anointed by blood to carry the mark, but you must have known someone who was.” The Valician female smiled genuinely as if she was embracing one of her own long lost relatives, gripping Jasairis in a bear hug that he found incredibly awkward as the Guards beheld them with uncompassionate gazes. “That must be it. Visions kept rushing through my mind about why you would bear the mark of treason. After all, few carry it on them lightly; she must’ve been quite the firecracker to land you in here willingly.”

“You don’t know me.” Jasairis felt her words wash over him coldly, dousing his memories with a kindling resurgence. “It’s only a royal crest, got it when I landed in prison. She didn’t mark me or anything, so I don’t think I’m a part of your kin. I am Irothian first and yes, I have some Rynithian descent, but do me a favor and stop calling me half-blood.”

“Well that is where one usually receives marks of treason and I did not mean anything by it “Jasairis”.” Kizzie snarled at the name as if it were simply an alias rather than his real name. “I hope you do not maintain ties with this enigmatic lady of yours, rumors say these Wardens want us to hunt conspirators against the state. Who better suited to that task than conspirators themselves? My real name is Asuve, but people here know me as Kizzie. While we’re on the topic of why we’re in here, I used to be a mole planted in the Irothian Government.”

“Oh that must’ve been living it up a little, huh?” Anathis nodded his approval, obviously impressed. “We use to take out all sorts of characters back in Eos, it wouldn’t be too much to begin doing that again.”

“Yes, a wealthy life-style of the finest sort,” Kizzie chuckled softly to herself,
“But I was too young and reckless to realize that I could have simply cut my ties and keep it all for myself. I eventually got turned in after delivering intelligence on a few specific Irothian counter spies. But only after I had them marked for death and their end was swift and brutal. Somehow the Assassination Squads managed to trace their tragic ends back to yours truly.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to anyone.” Jasairis grumbled, but Kizzie noted his wayward smile as he did so.

“Good. I have a feeling our years of pent up anxiety and woes shall be unleashed on the world in the coming days. In a polite and respectable way of course.” Kizzie grinned with self-satisfaction in at least getting a smile from him . “I hope you fellas don’t mind if I tag along with your sort? You seem strong and at least we have something in common, Jasairis. Whatever it is we’re about to go through, we should stick together.”

“The pleasure is ours.” Anathis reached over and formerly exchanged handshakes with Kizzie, much to her pleasure.

“Oh? Here comes the royal crown now!” The heavy exaggeration of excitement in Kizzie’s tone abolished some of Jasairis’ doubts despite being simply that, an exaggeration. But the lack of fear wasn’t completely lost on him.

“Oh Goddess, these men and women look certainly worse for wear. I said I wanted them brought into line, not beaten senselessly, Michelle.” Selyene strode gracefully through the secure heavy doors followed by two of her bodyguards training their rifles on the loose line of amassed convicts. “Why are they all sitting? I do not wish to stoop down to inspect anyone of them.”

“Get up, all of you!” Michelle suddenly barked at them, waving forward a number of black masked guards, intent on walking through the small throngs of people and forcefully lifting them onto their feet. People slowly began to stand, the uncertain looks on their faces told Jasairis that many of them were still scared and he couldn’t blame a single soul. He didn’t like his fate being intertwined with any of them, even though the vast majority was probably far more similar than he’d care to realize.

“Honor the Goddess, for you are alive! It is a far better fate than you deserve!” The Queen of Irothis spoke over the commands of Michelle’s aides as they went to work. “Some of you have been rotting in these cells for too long, allowing time to simply pass while you pay your penance. Who among you ask for forgiveness of your transgressions against the state? I cannot yet tell, but you have already given your lives for Irothis behind the iron bars of the cell, proudly sacrificed your own freedom at your own volition with the innumerable crimes you have committed against the country. I thank you for the debt you’ve paid thus far.

Whoever among you may be worthy should be met with reward and luxury in equal measure! I wonder if there are any of you strong enough to claim honor for yourselves.” Selyene glided to a halt just beside Jasairis, glaring at him with uncompassionate eyes. “Through your death or perhaps a new life is in order? One that will be taught through discipline and tempered with the balance of inner strength?”

Selyene’s gaze shifted onto those who were literally quaking at the thought of conscription and shook her head disapprovingly. She continued inspecting one enlisted soldier after another, signaling Michelle’s Warden’s to pick out the few that she didn’t like whenever something did not meet her standard and have them prepared to be escorted back down to their cells.

“No, this one will not be strong enough; perhaps we could use her as an aid instead.” The Queen pointed to a very lanky woman who had been shivering in the supposedly freezing ventilation. “I need those who also look every part of the soldier; I will accept nothing less in my conscriptions.”

“Blast the Gods, Sister, they’re only convicts, they do not need speeches! So spare them for real men and women!” Michelle grunted and a few of her officers agreed with timely nods.

“No, such disunity among men is merely disillusions, aren’t they?” Selyene glided by another woman who was struggling to see from the considerable gashes just above her eyes. She placed an elegant hand on her forehead, showing her some degree of favor over some of the others. “For who is realer, the one who goes to war? Or the one who stays to protect those that they love? Are not the two completely important and intertwined?”

“Yes, your highness.” The female convict gave a deep bow, much to Michelle’s displeasure and earned a brief smirk from the eldest of the twins.

“This one shall be one of my new soldiers! I wish to see many of you go with her and protect our lands while my military goes off to war! The Warlords of Irothis grow restless and our borders are under threat! The horrors of open war shall soon be unleashed and I, your Queen, possess the power to determine when and where.

If I were not benevolent in my wisdom, Gods sue me; I would pass you onto the altar of law and persecution and leave you to your fate.” The Queen’s face resembled carved stone, hard and unyielding, but allowing herself just one faint smirk. “Yet I am blessed with far greater intellect than my father’s fathers, and those who come long before. Yes, I have seen a greater purpose for you, so look upon your Queen and master with pride and serve me well. For with great promises such as you come great beginnings.

So I shall make an exception for the best of you who choose to come forward and serve as my right hand. I present each of you with a choice in this matter, forgive the trivial grievances that have befallen you in these past few hours and weigh the decision with that of your mind and not your heart. What I offer is new beginnings and freedom without the leash that binds you and I. See that to take up arms in my name is not another sentence, because the glory I offer is for that of true soldiers no matter the background, race, or birthright of your lineage.”

“Uh,” The Queen of Irothis spared a glance over her shoulder in the same moment Kizzie interrupted her, who looked somewhat dumbfounded, but pressed on through the barrage of stares looking to dethrone her of her sudden opportunity. “What is it that you’re exactly expecting of us? I mean, we can all kill, you could have chosen some random fodder for that purpose. And yet there are only a select few of us here. For example, I heard you were going to task us with hunting down conspirators or enemies of the state.”

“No. All I need are volunteers who are willing to give all for Irothis. That alone should be enough purpose. If that does not appeal to you, then I pray that death comes swiftly for you in the dungeons.”

“I see.”

“So who among you rabble are actually interested, so we’re not out here in the cold all night!” Michelle folded her arms, impatience written clearly on her features as she turned her gaze back and forth amongst the crowd of inmates.

“Well, best time to get off death row, friend, sign us up!” Anathis took Jasairis’ and Kizzie’s hands in his own and raised them up as a few of the more desperate or insanely brave began to answer the call.

Once again, really nice.
Now update the rest! Faster!

I have to agree, its very compelling!

Thanks guys! I'll be working on more as soon as I can .

EDIT: Yeah, I know I said the New Word would be updated soon, but I'm kind of stuck on it for the moment . Will keep working on it.

“Here you go. I doubt you own anything of value outside of that jumpsuit, so take these provisions. It’ll keep you tied over until your first pay.” One of the prison guards hefted a black duffle bag over a stainless steel counter, nudging the bag into Jasairis’ arms before waving him along.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” The inmate stepped out of the line of his fellow comrades, slinging the bag over his shoulder and treading out through the glassine push doors of the waiting room into a large lobby.

“So, getting paid to do this work, eh? Wonder how good it is.” Anathis replied with a wary shrug at Kizzie’s derisive snivel. The two of them were at the very rear of two dozen other conscripts, each of them hefting around similar black bags, eagerly awaiting whatever was to come in front of the massive sealed entrance barricaded by a line of heavily armored personnel.

“Here it comes, the firing squad.” Jasairis’ expression soured as he regarded a line of Wardens marching past armed with deadly assault rifles. The captives they were herding this time were those who were to be guided back down into the depths of the dungeons. All of them had been found lacking in some way or simply lacked the courage to take up the Queen of Irothis’ offer. Whispers among the guards was that they would be encouraged to take other jobs within the actual prison grounds, of course, nothing as esteemed as becoming a Warden or anything of that nature. But whatever kindness was spared to the repentant was better than most fates many could ever speak of in the prisons of Castle Dyani.

“Don’t worry about them,” Kizzie approached him to stand by his side in between him and Anathis, the reassurance in her tone contrasting sharply with her wicked smile. “Keep close to me and they will pay you no heed. I’ve been in the more lavish cells that the Wardens tend to for far longer than you’ve probably ever been here. They’ve grown to respect my good behavior or so they would have me believe, either way, just stay close. I’ll keep you safe. Just pray they don’t decide to take us back to their cells and, you know, have their way with us.”

The way she whispered in his ear made him take a voluntary step to the side, unsure of whether he could actually place any trust in this wayward character. Kizzie did not seem upset at the gesture, that evil intent in the glint of her eye that she was attempting hard to suppress fading a bit. She probably had an intelligent guess that it would make him more comfortable. She sauntered off more towards the crowd, but kept an eye out for her two mutual comrades as she did so.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I trust her, Anathis.” Jasairis spoke in a soft tone as she stepped out of earshot, watching her as she went to chat with a few other women joining the conscription.

“No surprise there. I mean, can you really after just meeting her?” Anathis surprisingly agreed, though not in the way that Jasairis was expecting. “I mean, you and I, we’re a little different I suppose. We met in a goddamn shower room after all. Point is, we shouldn’t be too hasty in deciding whose worthy of comradeship and whose not. We don’t know any of these people and lot of them seem to be like you to a large degree. It’s going to have to be more than just the three of us if we’re going to make it out in the world, know what I mean?”

“Sure, but don’t go around just accepting whoever may come along.” Jasairis had to admit to himself, he wasn’t exactly used to chastising conflicting viewpoints. Not through words and friendly advice, at least, things were far better when he answered with his fists against rival inmates who sought to conspire against him. He much preferred the “live and let live” approach to life, but he’d be foolish to apply that to all aspects of advice. “I know you’re not accustomed to the prison cells, but just remember, all of these people are still inmates. Just saying.”

“I suppose we’re both right in a way, Sil,” The Eosian put the argument to rest with his undivided attention elsewhere. “Don’t look now, the soldiers are lifting their barricade.”
Jasairis stood a head or two over most of the convicts locked up in this building and could cast his gaze over all of them without much effort. The black masked guards were indeed peeling away from the main entrance, forming two lines to funnel their new found conscripts into the waiting hands of the light winter. A heavily armored guard with his helm cradled in his arms and a shotgun leaning on his right shoulder suddenly came between them and a new life. He hefted his shotgun in the air and fired it once, the bellowing roar causing all of the former prisoners to flinch backwards and fall into a uniform silence all at once.

“Soldiers of Irothis! Or should I say fellow inmates? Please follow my instructions to the letter, for in doing so, everyone will find a much more pleasant time than if they had decided to not hear my words at all! All recruits, inmate or not, reach into your right pocket! In there, will be a letter that we have given to yourselves personally! When these doors finally open, follow the instructions written in your letter! That is all!”

“The hell?” Jasairis immediately dipped his hand into his pocket, no doubt feeling something crinkle at his touch. He pulled it free and examined the stained parchment in his hands and slowly began to unravel it. “

Private Jasairis Sil

Race: Irothian

Deployment Theatre: Mal’dira Theatre

Region: Pae’sini Isles, Rynithia

Army Group: 2nd Army

Army: 10th Army

Regiment: 54th Conscripts Regiment

Battalion: 1st Battalion

Squad Leaders:

Sergeant Roman Kanii

Corporal Kaeden Fox

Private First Class: Illdage Philix

Report to your commanding officer….

Dear Jasairis Sil:

If you are choosing to read this letter, be well aware that it has been of your own volition to come this far into this realm of uncertainties. Allow me to congratulate you on your sense of bravery and wisdom in not only thinking this entire matter through, but seeing the compromise that I’ve strived to bring to those who I may feel have been judged somewhat harshly. Do not fret about the fates of others you may have known that were present in this event today. They will have other options given to them, more paths to take to avoid the executioner’s hand.

Jasairis, if you have listened to anything I’ve said regarding your conscription, then you should know well enough by now that the country of Irothis is preparing for open war. Soon I shall have over forty thousand troops amassing in the Nagasa Province alone and before your training is over, we hope to have that number escalate into a hundred thousand men and women pulled from all the provinces of Irothis to serve under my command for the tasks at hand.

Allow me to congratulate you once more, I am excited to inform you that I’ve personally selected you among a few others for a special project that I’ve been working on with erstwhile allies. Please note that many of the people with you in that room today when I spoke will probably go with you, but the army that I’m preparing will be formed from among experts and the merely talented alike.

The truth is, Jasairis, is that I lied to you in my speech. I’m choosing to send you a far ways away from the glittering coasts of the Unvial Sea. In fact, if you’ve already seen from your letter, that I’m sending you south through the Mal’dira ocean to the great Pae’sini isles: the homelands of Rynithia. The truth is that I need something investigated for my own knowledge and I cannot stop until that knowledge is laid out before me in full clarity. I would be so inclined as to give you a small hint: Illyia.

If that is not enough to interest you, perhaps knowing that your training awaits you in an exotic local is? If you find yourself dumbstruck about all things Rynithian, please, do ask one of your brothers and sisters in arms or commanding officer.

P.S. I pray you are not one for sea sickness.

-Your Benevolent Warlord, Selyene Kiri Nagasa

“... Just great.” Jasairis uttered under his breath in the same moment that the seal doors began to peel backwards. There was an unbelievably blinding flash of light that made all the conscripts raise their arms over their eyes and stare on in uncomfortable silence. The seal doors slid open and as they became more exposed to the stark white light, their gazes began to focus and pick out the large floodlights that had been intentionally placed in front of the inmates to light up the area in and around prisoner recreation.

“Please proceed to follow the instructions on your letter!” The same Warden who had been informing them earlier felt the need to repeat himself. He fired his shotgun another time for good measure, a good motivator for mobilizing the conscripts.

“Hey Anathis, what do you know about this place?” Jasairis handed him the letter while the mass of former convicts began to funnel through the open gates and Anathis – appearing somewhat irked himself- immediately began examining its contents.

“Rynithia: it’s a very fair and advanced island civilization far ways south of Irothis, in the middle of the Mal’dira Ocean. Also known for being a long lasting Republic, very different from the dictatorships ruling over and dividing Irothis. Their cities are huge metropolises built along mountain ranges, the rest of it is covered in dense rain forests.” Anathis returned the letter to the owner and sighed heavily. “Apparently, from what I’ve gleamed from my own letter, we’re going to be under the supervision of one of the Senators there. She must be close friends with the queen indeed.”

“Who exactly do the Warlords of Irothis intend to war against anyway?”

“Goddess Hinariath’s children in Hailadon: land of endless plains and rivers. The only nation with a Goddess that rules among them.” Anathis gave a sharp whistle, shouting Kizzie’s name and waving her over when he finally caught her attention. “Wondering what’s transpiring in Rynithia?”

“I can take a guess. So are you leaving too?”

“Doesn’t look like either of us have much choice, but we avoid the real war so to hell with it! Fortune tends to smile upon us in some ways at least, we have the same Sergeant.” Anathis nodded in Kizzie’s direction as the pure-blood Valician walked up to them with a look of dismay and reluctance.

“I hear that in the Pae’sini Isles that some Valicians are actually servants there. Strange, I’m finding it difficult to fathom.” She pondered aloud to herself, contemplating her options openly for everyone to hear. “I already knew we’d be shipping out together, who’s your squad leader?”

“Kanii.” Jasairis and Anathis answered dismissively, stepping into a winter wonderland that had Castle Dyani steeped in snow.

“Hmm, what a shame, huh? I have a… Sergeant Angelle Bermi?” She flashed her ocean blue eyes over the piece of parchment while she spoke. “Something about being personally requested, she seems Valician enough given her real name. Have to stand by your own kind in these times, am I right kin?”

“That’s hardly what this is about, but I think I get your meaning.” Jasairis winced at the sharp cold without giving her words much thought, slapping Anathis on the shoulder and pointed out something of interest. Standing beside a group of gathered convicts was a whip thin man in the usual military fatigues, outflanked by either of his two subordinates. Stamped in bright blue onto his clothes were the bold letters K.A.N.I.I. “I think that’s our stop.”

“Oh don’t worry yourself too much, soon we’ll all be allies under the same Goddess Ni’halia.” Kizzie casually waved at the two as she broke off from the pack to join another. “After all the blood that will probably be spilled in the coming months, the lifeblood that flows through Valician and Irothian veins will appear indistinguishable to the untrained eye. For now though, we’ll simply become brothers and sisters in arms beneath the banners of Irothis! See you two when we head south toward the ocean.”

“Let me see your letters, gentlemen.” Sergeant Kanii looked the pair of conscripts over and grumbled silently to himself. He plucked the letters from their hands and quickly glanced through the relevant information. An exasperated sigh soon followed and the commanding officer swept a gloved hand through his hair. He seemed seasoned with age, but not through much bloodshed; that was Jasairis’ intelligent estimation at least. Whoever said looks could be deceiving probably knew better than him, but if the saying applied to anything and everyone then the notion of honesty and tell-tale would be an obsolete notion at best. “Looks like everything is in order and that accounts for the last of you.

Alright, welcome to first battalion all of you! Let me be the first to say that fortune has determined all of you have made the correct decisions in choosing to serve in the armed forces. I understand many of you were unnecessarily encouraged to join our ranks, but allow me to say that now is the time to go ahead and put it behind you. Clinging to the cells is no way to live a life and neither is skulking about the list of grievances you’ve been chalking up all this time!

Ladies and Gentlemen! This is the 54th Conscripts! You are among the first volunteers handpicked by the figurehead of Household Nagasa herself! Consider yourselves chosen out of a far larger number of candidates for a very… sensitive task!

Now I’ve heard all manner of concern pertaining to our deployment overseas. I am well aware of the impending gak storm that is open war beginning to brew on the Hailadon-Irothis border. No doubt that will be bloody fighting and bloodshed shall only proliferate when leaders of our rival nations condone our campaigns of barbaric conquest and subjugation. Now I know that we’ve all heard of wars and continue to hear them whether in the annals of history or being fought out before our very eyes. Only the more reason that you should consider your worthless hides relieved, for that kind of war is not one we’ll fight with our acquired skills. At least, not yet.

No. The citizens of Rynithia are highly resilient and proud and we’ve been fortunate to count upon their ruling Senate as long standing allies throughout the millennia. They were by our side ten centuries ago, when we broke our bonds of our tyrant rulers in the crystalline oceans of Valicia and fled to the continent of Taridana to found our own proud civilization. They’ve been with us through a hundred wars fought throughout our relatively short timeline against Goddess Hinariath and the Hailadites for domination of the Taridana continent. And now, they continue to stand with us against the powers that be and all of the threats that beset our people!

Now we deploy across the oceans far from home in the name of honoring our alliance. While I don’t expect most of you to be familiar with current world events regarding the balance of nations, I do expect you to know that there are invisible conspiracies we suspect are being wrought in the shadows of the older nations against Irothis. If I knew what that was, believe me, I would have told you by now. So now that we’re here on the same mission with one another, we have the privilege of uncovering and finding this plot out together.

So what’s the plan, you ask? As it stands, it’s a mystery, but one thing is certainly not: your annexation into the 54th and the beginning of your training! If you happen to be gaking your pants just thinking about it, do not fret! Training doesn’t begin, I’m afraid, until we reach the city of Kalikan, Rynithia which is some days away! Just don’t get your ass sea sick on my ship!”

A chorus of uttered laughter came from the prisoners and Kanii nodded his approval, obviously gauging spirits a level higher than what they had been moments before. Someone however, wasn’t laughing at all, Jasairis could only think of one name as the sergeant pointed them in the direction of the large black riot trucks sitting on the roadside just outside the prison recreation razor wire fences. Illyia and more importantly, how exactly did it connect with any of these strange revelations?

Chapter Two: Amokalan

Before my mortal spirit finally departed from my flesh, I looked over all of my kin and saw them all lying slain in the corrupted forests of Qunaliphi. Heaps upon heaps of my glorious armies, lying still in their own ranks, choking the riverbeds and small marshes. My people’s proud banners were trampled into the muddy slush of the undergrowth. That was when I realized that my endless war had supposedly come to an end.

Imagine my surprise, when after all the long decades of bloodshed I had unleashed upon the innocent, a Goddess that was not my own had arisen from Heaven to finally challenge my might. No other soul could claim the power that I had, nothing mortal at least, for I was the first to tap into the forbidden lore: the Goddess’ own wisdom and power made manifest through words.
Never did the Ishalna speak of another who shared lineage with Ni’halia, though I was well aware that the flaming angel was her vengeance sent against me. It came for me on massive eagle wings that could launch her into the sky on a moment’s notice. The blade of endless flame came forward to bite through my flesh and shatter the focal point of my strength: my nigh invulnerable form.

My sorcerers wielded all the power at their disposal against her, but her divine armor merely dissipated each and every strike hurled at her. I laughed in spite of my dire desperation for perseverance and preservation, wounding her with but a flexing of my fingertips. I… I wanted to witness Valicia rise out of the ashes even as it burned. I wanted to end a feud that had crushed any sense of balance in the world of Senia and saw my people writhing in the agony wrought by their own hubris and greed. I had wanted so many things and immortal judgment had never been one for them.

I had never been one to enter the gaping maw of eternal hell, so when my soul finally departed for Amokalan, I lusted to see the holy metropolis built in the skies of heaven. The legends always said that Ni’halia’s realm was an eternal palace built solely for the souls belonging to her faithful children to dwell within forever. An endless maze of metropolises that dwell on the edge of what is mortal, physical, and then spiritual; something that is far beyond scope. To gaze upon another part of the horizon was to simply look upon another portion of it, as large as to fit the entire lists of generations passed down through the eternities.

I was reborn into brooding forests that shrouded and cloaked the obvious paths leading to gates of Ni’halia’s holy city. Everything was draped in the long lasting effects of a freezing winter and the night seemed to reign eternal, but that is of no surprise to a child of mysticism, for Ni’halia is the God of our craft and her gift to mankind is the moon.

To my surprise, when endless torment should have been mine and mine alone forever, the Goddess that I never expected to lay eyes upon graced me with a physical form. A raven haired, ten foot female with hair falling to the soles of her feet, face unmasked by the gentle light of the moon. Her eyes were the purest emerald, pulsating with eerie light enough to light the mystic runes carved into her irises. What little of celestial skin showed through her holy dress- a mythical garment the color of the darkest night, covered in pulsating runes of the starkest white light, was of the most vibrant and colorful embodiment of Valician birthright and inheritance that I had ever laid my half-immortal eyes upon.

Perched upon her shoulder was her massive black raven, Rax’ziya, carved with mythical crimson runes that symbolized the judgment and eternal realms of hell that I did not doubt awaited me.
With an eloquence I will never be able to explain with any realism, my Goddess Ni’halia cast Rax’ziya from her arm and straight towards my being. Then I knew that the bell had been tolled for me, but even in heaven, my heroism is heard even by the deities. Where Goddess Hinariath saw fit to merely war until retribution had been dealt in full, Ni’halia assuaged me with her compassionate wisdom.

“This one has spun whimsical tales around himself, hasn’t he, Rax’ziya?” Her voice was a choir of whispers, each very much inaudible, but in sync represented something barely intelligible to mortal ears. “The first demi-god to walk the realms of mortal man, King Avernon Nisolum of Valicia!”

“Chosen king? Not while he draws breathe. Oh, my defiled children, why did they trust this one?” When she finally approached me, after her midnight raven had unveiled the gates of hell, it was not lost on me that she gaped in awe at my very presence.

“I have founded another place for the souls of the restless, it lies in hell.” She studied me for the longest time while she spoke, gracing my cheeks with her touch and sparing my wicked soul with a gracious smile. “I cannot accept a child that rebels, and all children that may follow in his footsteps. I will guide all Valicia into to their eternal palace and will accept the ones you had for so long called slaves to dwell beside me. Come now, you were their king in life, so rule over them in death, and from there you will remain, demi-god of the Valicians.”

I never had laughed as I did in my final hour of judgment, cackling manically to the moon, and stepping into realms of damnation willingly.

Even in death, I am still King.

-King Avernon’s tale of coronation, Aka’guon Chapter 68, Verse 12

As you can see, I've finally thought of a new title for the story, lol. I've been wanting to get away from the previous title for a while now, since it kept reminding me of the awfulness that is twilight .

So any issues or concerns this far in? I'm just wondering because I'm not entirely sure that I've pulled off the whole thing about Jasairis being hand picked by Selyene or the reason as to why he's particularly important. In fact, I'm still trying to hammer out how I can realistically portray him as someone that is worthy of being chosen. I understand that it's still just conscription, but maybe I can build on this into something satisfying. I'm not trying to show him as a hero, but another pair of eyes in a world where the balance of civilization is decaying.

I've been really contemplating whether Jasairis and the conscripts should be stationed in Irothis or Rynithia. I'm not too concerned by whether the story arc should be progressing in one place or the other, since I'll have other characters to progress the story through, but maybe the conscripts could help the story develop further in Irothis.

Just looking for some opinions on what I've got so far .

Dithran, Irothis

“You, put your hands up where I can see them. No sudden moves or you’re getting a bullet to the back of your skull, understand?” Both of the flashlights on Lassun and Tallion’s weapons picked up an eerie silhouette in the darkness.

“Is she even breathing, Lassun?” The pair of heavily armed and equipped Elves took turns searching the ruins of the destroyed bar, standing a safe distance from the shattered glass window pane on Dithran’s snow shrouded sidewalks.

“Go in and check, I’ll be right behind you.” Lassun spoke in hushed words, keeping her sights leveled on the back of the shadowy humanoid figure. “She maybe injured, we’ll have to call in an evac or get her down to a hospital ourselves if she is.”

“Affirmative, I’ll take care of it, just watch my back.” Tallion gave the slightest indication of a nod and immediately entered the abandoned building. He was well aware of how intimidating he appeared to the average human, standing around six and half feet tall at full height and outfitted with the reinforced body armor that nearly covered his entire body. He caught the glint of an eye glaring back at him through the blinding flare of his flashlight, but could make out little else in the darkness. “Hey, Lassun, see if you can find a light switch or something.”

“Got you.” The pair of elves seemed definitely related, both were of a similar height and possessed the same features. Their hazel eyes glared at the surrounding darkness with a grim resolve and underlying courage and their dark olive skin told a history of the Darakoi Houses in Irothis. They were wielding compact and efficient sub-machine guns that could hose down a number of foes at close quarters. Both of them were backed up with a number of smaller side arms, though no less lethal.

Tallion nudged himself slowly closer toward the unresponsive female sitting in one corner of the bar, forcing himself to weave through a number of overturned tables and chairs. The unknown civilian soon materialized into a more intelligible form: a tall female, Irothian in origin, golden blonde hair pulled back into a long pony tail, but more importantly dressed in a Warden’s uniform. He could tell the latter by the thick black and white robes and the Nagasan crest imprinted on her back.

Bright lights suddenly enveloped the destroyed building, revealing an extravagant array of wines and hard liquor just behind a nice marble bar. The Irothian woman with her hands up was sitting in a booth beside the opening in the building where the pub name should be. A bottle of fine wine and a small glass were placed upon the table and she lowered her hands to take another sip. A few of the lady’s comrades were scattered about the place and in fact had their weapons trained on the two Darakoi Elves.

“Warden Sarah,” Tallion immediately lowered his gun and took in the rest of the place. “Don’t think for a second you would have gotten the drop on us.”

“You’re late. Why am I not surprised these days. Are the Wardens the only ones really interested in keeping the order in Irothis or have you elite guys just been lacking in quality as of late?” Warden Sarah shifted in her seat to take in Tallion’s disapproving frown with her own lavender eyes and shrugged. Her steely expression softened a bit as she took in the sight of members from the Assassination Squads. She waved both of them over to her and gestured for them to seat themselves. “Where’s the rest of your team? Don’t tell me all they’ve sent is you two, but I suppose better some than none at all.”

“We split up, mainly to cover our approach to this place. I still don’t understand why you insisted on maintaining radio silence even though we kept attempting to hail you.” Tallion holstered his weapon onto his thigh and sat down with Lassun falling in beside him.

“I’m sorry, but we simply cannot risk our plans being intercepted on this. Expect more of the same the next time we will meet. That aside, tell me, where’s your commanding officer?”

“Anything you need to say can be relayed back to him by us.” Lassun intoned gently, nodding graciously as an unfamiliar Warden placed a couple of glasses onto the table. “We would spare more, but there are other leads to follow on. Right now, you have us to aid in your investigation. The rest of our team will disperse when things are underway.”

“Of course, I’m sure he’s scheming to find a way to take all the glory for himself.” Sarah smiled politely, pouring herself another round and nodding understandably. “I would too if I were assigned to this case.”

“So, where do we begin, Warden Sarah Tamsyn?” Lassun raised her glass until it bumped with her cousin’s and the two slammed them both back in a second.

“We are yours to command.”

“Let’s go to ground zero then. I hope you two are up for a ride.” Sarah waited for the two Darakoi Elves to stand before leading them toward the back end of the bar behind the counter. The rest of her comrades seemed to take the hint and began filing out through the back behind them.

The bitter cold was something an Irothian could laugh at despite the wind’s biting chill. The foot of snow clogging the back alley behind the abandoned structure were drivable conditions for a skilled driver. Lassun assumed that there was reason enough for that, given the massive beasts at both the peace keeping and military branch’s disposal here in the lands of Irothis.

“A midnight stallion.” Tallion couldn’t hide his smirk as he set his gaze upon the convoy of waiting Carapace armored vehicle transports. They were massive four wheelers with the main body sitting a couple feet off the ground and comprised of rounded armor plates of thick steel. Three sets of tinted, bullet proof glass windows spread across three doors on either side with a small ladder leading up the rims and up to the handles. A thirty caliber turret sat at the edge of every hatch towards the very rear of the vehicle and he saw that they were also manned. All of them were painted a sleek black and had the copper image of the Nagasan crest etched onto their hulls.

“Let’s ride up front shall we?” Sarah proceeded down the parted lines of battle equipped Wardens who were a part of her assembled team. Many had nothing more than simple shoulder and leg guards with bullet proof vests pulled over their uniforms, but held an assortment of lethal weaponry.

“Quite a taskforce you have assembled here, the rumors must be true then.” Tallion counted about three dozen men and women from the III Downtown Dithran City Precinct at a glance.

“Yes they are, Tallion, I would not need your help otherwise. That’s why I would really love to lay down some sort of plan with your commander.” Sarah came to a stop by the side of the lead Carapace and motioned her allies to join her aboard the vehicle.

Lassun climbed onto the ladder and easily slid into the open doorway leading into the interior, making her way across a number of seats to sit behind the driver. Her partner clambered in beside her while Sarah suddenly appeared in the passenger’s seat. She exchanged a few words with the quiet driver, who seemed to answer with the briefest replies before going about his business. The Darakoi elf twitched her long knife ears as she strained them, giving up the moment of mischief when the two suddenly went silent.

“Let’s go, Calan.” Sarah ordered after everyone had loaded up and given the all clear. The back alley had been left behind and soon they were travelling through the bustling night life on the Dithran avenues.

“Excuse me, Warden Sarah,” The female assassin interrupted the unsettling calm that had befallen them. “Should we be expecting, uhh, trouble at the III Downtown Precinct?”

“Things are getting a bit bad down there. We can still function, but we are basically under siege there. The Mayor is currently deploying soldiers, but their main objective is securing the orderly parts of Dithran, basically leaving all the officers in the III Downtown district and our neighbors down in the depths as guerrilla fighters. If we can reassert our dominance over the third and maintain secure supply lines, we should be reconnected with the rest of the city’s defense grid in no time. So I’ll think we’ll be alright, depending on how the fight goes.”

“Numbers?” Tallion cut in.

“Allies or enemies?”

“Both.”

“We have about five hundred forty eight K.I.A. or wounded on our side.” Sarah resigned herself to starring at the night life through her window. “That leaves about six hundred and a half’s worth of Wardens healthy enough to fight. We’re not sure of enemy numbers, they’re all part of a military outfit, but they’re flying Nagasa colors with only a difference in the national icon.”

“What does the symbol look like?”

“I don’t necessarily remember, we’ll have to get a better look when we’re able.”

“I see.” Tallion didn’t seem fazed by the answers given by the Warden, neither did Lassun, though they both exchanged curious looks. “Well, that could definitely not bode well for us. However, if there is some way we can resolve this issue together, please believe that we’ll exhaust every resource to make sure that we do.”

Calan studied the pair of elves via his rear view mirror, his eyes on them all but invisible in the darkness. He glanced over at Sarah, who probably wasn’t paying anything in the Carapace too much attention by this point. He muttered something to her that caught her attention.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty, now’s not the time to slumber. What the hell are we going to do with just two assassins?”

“Put our faith in their abilities for now.” The Warden brushed off his words and kept enjoying the moment, though she no longer kept her eyes closed. “It is like you said, now is not a time for doubt either, besides, we’ve got enough man power to accomplish this ourselves. We’re just going to need some extra hands to help us take care of the dirty work.”