Hero

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

It looked like no matter how many times they would have the same conversation, it always ended the same way; Justinian would do as he pleased. Bianca was glad for her helmet to hide her frustration at his stubbornness. He had to learn to take a step back and see the bigger picture; whoever this was clearly were looking for Scions. Hiding behind her was what he was supposed to do! It was already humiliating to be seen as a glorified babysitter on a daily basis, but she naively believed that if something like this were to happen, Justinian would have done the right thing. She was a fool to trust him.

His words were cut off and he stopped moving. For a moment, she dared hope that he changed his mind, but his reaction proved that something was wrong. His sudden yelling surprised her--was he stuck? How? The thought that anything could stop a Scion's magic was horrifying on its own, but she was a little more concerned at the fact that he was trapped in his makeshift armor. She reached out to his helmet, her fingers digging into the marble and prying open the marble around his face so he could properly breathe.

Irina's voice filtered in and her orders were given. Would she be able to get him out or was he going to keep resisting her? If she had to drag him kicking and screaming, then so be it.

"We're helping by leaving--now," She stated, trying to do her best to strip Justinian of his armor. Once he was freed, she took a firm hold of his arm. "Either you walk with me or I'm throwing you over my shoulder. Your choice."

Without waiting for a confirmation, she began to drag Justinian in the direction of the windows.

---

_{@Raijinslayer}

---

Lucas felt like it would have been better if he had just outright passed out. At first it was because of the foreign feeling of exhaustion, like his body had been zapped of all its energy in a second. It took whatever he had left to not fall over as Tyler pulled him to his feet, but he figured they'd end up sitting ducks if they just stood there. The darkness didn't help--wait, what happened to the light? Were the other Scions affected? That seemed like such a narrow scope, but he couldn't think of any other explanation.

He did scowl at Tyler's comment, but his next movement concerned him. Was he going to carry him? Lucas absolutely hated the idea, it was humiliating! "No. No, no, no--!" His protest fell on deaf ears as he suddenly found himself vertical against his will. To add insult to even more injury, Tyler had all the care of a dog wrangling a squeaky toy. He was going to end up bruised and battered by his own Templar by the end of all this! If it wasn't for the fact that he already emptied his stomach earlier, he would have heaved all over Tyler out of spite.

The sudden movement made his position worse, and he was convinced his initial spike-puke was going to end up an accident-puke. Tyler's control over his element was precise, but it made for the worst ride of his life. If the Goddess had any shred of mercy for him, she'd have Tyler trip and accidentally bash Lucas' head so hard he'd fall unconscious. But he always knew the Goddess never showed him any favor, so by the time Tyler finally came to a full stop, Lucas was just glad he hadn't thrown up.

Although Dame Irina’s main objective was to shepherd civilians to safety, she was often beset by adversaries - a complication she welcomed with religious fervor. As the ballroom gradually emptied of frightened partygoers, the floor started to open up, giving the attackers - and crucially, Irina - more space to work with.

Now and again they would fall upon her in multiples of three or more, only to be quickly dispatched to spectacular effect. By the time Sir Tyler found her, Irina’s saber arm was entirely red with the blood of the Mother’s enemies, with more flecked tastefully across her uniform, face, and hair. Her eyes shone like fire as she worked, coming more and more alive with every swing. When Sir Tyler made his presence known, Dame Irina looked more like a wild animal on the prowl than a buttoned-up Church soldier.

So the contrast was striking when, upon receiving Tyler’s news, Irina finished off her current opponent and straightened calmly, checking her watch and surveying the ballroom-turned-battlefield with a sharp, calculating gaze. Her face was unreadable; she didn’t look troubled, or even surprised.

“Get His Holiness to the extraction point as ordered,” she replied, turning her attention back to Sir Tyler. “Stop for nothing and no one; we will handle it.”

Lucas lifted and turned his head to give Dame Irina an incredulous look. Anyone involved in the church at any capacity knew of the Dame's coldness, but she didn't so much as bat an eye at the news. He let his head hang, chuckling to himself. "Can't even pretend to care one of your own is dead, but I guess Templars are just expendable to the church," He sighed.

---

_{@Scribe of Thoth}

Post Deletion Request

someone double posted can i get it deleted pls

roleplayerguild.com/posts/5493011

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

The lack of sight and the magic being flung around made it almost impossible for anyone to see or find anyone else. Numerous different security details searched desperately for their charges while the armored men attacked the Scions and their Templars ruthlessly. There had already been injuries and casualties hidden in the dark.

Salome relished in it for a moment. Edmund had rightfully departed the scene to tend to a stranded Maya, and the woman walked into the crowd. She was calm in a sea of fear as she knelt down, her gloves lighting up as the floor around her glowed red. A few other red lights could be seen around the room; a variety of devices plugged into the walls at different locations. Salome rose as the shadows danced on the walls and eyed Rosemary’s light as it hung above.

“Back into the darkness we’ll go,” She stated, snapping her fingers once again.

A high pitched sound emitted from each device and synced up, and a loud sound echoed through the vents. The air seemed to bend around the ballroom and the sound died as soon as it came. However, every Scion and mage in the room felt its effects. The same mana that kept them moving shifted violently within them, attacking them for a few seconds before it would flatten immensely. Any spells were completely negated and every element warped to their will would no longer follow.

Belle held her head as she sank to her knees, the many bullets ricocheting off of Abram and hitting her wall of ice. She reached out to him, her head positively swimming, but the wall remained as it was. Her eyes widened as the shock helped clear her head, her hand running against her own creation as she realized she couldn’t channel any of her magic into it. Unfortunate for her; she had encased herself entirely and had unwittingly trapped herself.

“No way…” She uttered in disbelief, though she let out a gasp as she spotted the ice beginning to crack to her left. She could see several men outside trying to break in, and she hastily crawled to the opposite side, praying the ice would hold long enough for Abram to notice.

Above the din, high in the now-darkened ceiling, Maya’s grip on gravity failed completely. She screamed as she fell, upside-down, from her perch, clinging to the chandelier chain for dear life and landing painfully on one of its ornate arms. The fixture swung with the force of the impact, many crystals clattering musically to the floor, and the whole chandelier slipped precariously as part of its base was yanked out of the ceiling. For the moment, though, it held firm; Edmund, however, would need to rely on his own gravity to avoid the same fate.

On the other side of the ballroom, Rosemary got up from under the chair she had hidden under, feeling particularly dizzy. She looked for Sonia blindly as her light had gone out, hands on her stomach. “Sonia–” Her call was interrupted as she was suddenly yanked to the side. It took her a moment to realize she had been grabbed by one of the armored men, and she let out an ear-piercing scream.

Sonia turned in the direction of the scream, shocked to see Rosemary no longer invisible. It took her longer than it should have to realize the orb of light Rosemary had created was gone. Despite the area no longer being illuminated, Sonia released three strobes of light, materializing closer to the princess with each flash. One more flash of light, and the armored man’s arm was suddenly detached from his body.

She hurriedly kneeled in front of Rosemary, checking the princess for any injuries and ignoring the man’s scream of pain. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She asked her.

Rosemary shook her head, kneeling down as she held her stomach. “I don’t know,” She whimpered. “It hurts.”

Sonia wanted to get to the bottom of it, but she could already see the armored men regrouping. Reluctantly putting her weapon away, she scooped up Rosemary in her arms. “Hang on as tight as you can, okay?” She asked her. Once Rosemary clung onto Sonia as best as she could, the pair vanished from sight and Sonia moved away from any enemy and blended into the crowd, focused on getting the princess to safety.

Chaos ruled for a moment. In the dark, it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe, masked intruders slipping unseen between panicked partygoers with suspicious ease. The chorus of screaming and suppressed gunfire created a cacophony no voice could hope to penetrate, and through the sea of bodies it was nearly impossible to navigate more than a few steps in any direction. The wiser civilians crept along the walls, pawing for an exit; the more frightened ones either fled aimlessly or froze in place, succumbing to the panic. The grand bank of windows on the North wall, broken from the intruders’ ingress, was the only source of light, casting only a foreboding silhouette of the moonless sky over the heads of the melee below.

But then, with a loud BANG! the darkness was penetrated; opposite the windows, bright light poured into the ballroom from a large door that burst open, soon to be filled with dozens of armoured silhouettes: new combatants entering the fray.

The armoured figures split up, taking to the periphery of the room. At the head of the pack strode none other than Dame Irina, still in her white dress uniform, cavalry sabre gleaming in her right hand. The assailants immediately recognized the new threat, several masked gunmen swarming out of the crowd to deal with the new forces. Irina never broke stride; with one swing of her sabre she severed both the arm and head of the nearest combatant, transitioning smoothly into chopping off the leg of a second to her left. Two more rushed her, commendably unfazed by the carnage, and were dispatched in the same way. Crimson blood flecked her white uniform, and she flicked any excess from her blade. A close observer might have noticed that under her practiced grace, which she still maintained, the Dame’s golden eyes burned with a dark and very visible hunger.

If she was shot, which was unclear, she didn’t react; instead, she cut a path into the ballroom and started funneling civilians toward the door, pausing only long enough to bark orders to anyone with the sense to follow them.

“Nevermind the gunmen! Evacuate the building!” she commanded to the room at large, her voice somehow audible above the din. To the royal guards, she yelled, “Get the royal family out! Use the windows if you have to!”

As a uniformed man ran past her, evidently a member of some noble’s retinue, on his way to the new exit, Irina caught him by the collar, yanking him back. “Secure a perimeter,” she ordered ominously, “do not let a single one of these rats escape.”

Shoving the man into the crowd with absolute confidence that he would do as she asked, Irina then turned to her watch, fiddling with it for a moment as if nothing was going on around her. After a moment of static, an integrated earpiece in each Templar’s helmet came to life.

“Take your Scions and evacuate immediately by any means necessary,” Irina’s voice rang in each Templar’s ears, her tone leaving no room for disobedience. “Rendez-vous with the royal family and go West; the army is staged on Stern Hill, and you will be there when I arrive.”

When she had sent her message, the earpieces crackled into silence. Job done, Irina eyed the crowd with unsettling eagerness, launching herself once more into the fray.

---

Lucas remained hot on Tyler’s heels, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he wasn’t a little affected by the sheer amount of panic everyone had. He wasn’t stupid enough to let it completely overwhelm him, but seeing the same snobs who practiced their expressions to keep their true intentions anonymous didn’t bother hiding behind their masks anymore. He wasn’t scared or nervous, but it was unsettling. He focused more on keeping up with Tyler, even if he disagreed with the plan. Tyler’s initial idea of getting him out was the better move, but he guessed maybe the other Templars might have been having trouble or something and needed his help.

He clearly wasn’t focused enough as he ended up tripping over a man on the ground. Managing to catch himself, he did a double take as he realized it was the unarmored Templar of Lightning. His eyes were glazed over, a massive hole in his chest accompanied by what had to be a dozen bullet holes. The marble around him was slowly beginning to stain red, but there were few footprints.

The prince immediately looked around, realizing the Marchioness was missing. No, could it be– “Sir Ulysse is dead!” He called out to Tyler.

A wave of nausea then hit him, and he was certain that if he hadn’t already emptied his stomach he would’ve lost it there. His free hand was already at his temple as that stupid headache came back with full force. Was he actually getting a vision now of all times?! But as soon as the thought hit him, he realized it felt different.

The symphony of the chaos around him congregated into a high pitched ring. And as soon as it came, it was gone. He was free of his headache but he suddenly had another problem as his knees gave out and he outright collapsed into the ground. The exhaustion was something he had never felt before, any ounce of energy and drive he had in the last minute evaporated. He hadn’t even done anything!

Was this what the man was referring to? The thought panicked him for just a moment as his body refused to comply with any of his commands. After a few seconds, however, he could finally move, getting himself onto his knees at least. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his lungs desperately gasping for air, his heart thumping in his chest fiercely.

He could see Tyler as he was picked up, and without thinking, he pointed his gun and squeezed the trigger. While the sound of armor hitting the floor let him know it was an enemy, he realized that he would have shot someone innocent if he wasn’t careful enough. He tried to make things slow down around him to give himself a chance to catch his breath, but everything carried on.

“Something’s wrong,” He managed to utter. “Can’t use my magic.” And it was a struggle to talk, apparently.

---

_{@Scribe of Thoth}

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Headache free and with a desire to get as drunk as he possibly could, Lucas begrudgingly admitted to himself that sharing his burdens had done wonders on improving his mood. He didn't believe Tyler for a second when he said it was his job to care--it was his job to make sure he was alive and little more--but having shared his secret with someone made him feel a little lighter. It didn't solve anything and he doubted it formed anything beyond maybe a working relationship, but he was surprised at how good it felt to voice his thoughts out loud. Granted, two weeks of frantic research and speedreading only to come to that conclusion had weighed him down more than he could have imagined. It was a joke, honestly; the man who prided himself on constantly telling others to fuck off was happy that he wasn't alone. Or something.

His thoughts drifted elsewhere as he took out his phone, debating on whether he'd actually bring someone else back to the hotel with him. It'd be funny if Tyler protested, but he was considering if it was even worth the effort. He was still pretty tired and honestly, a night to just sleep sounded like Eden right now. The sound of glass shattering got Lucas to look up from his phone just in time for him to get slammed against the wall. Tyler's sudden order killed any protest Lucas might have had before he could even voice it. He couldn't say this was his first time getting attacked--he still remembered the lessons his teachers drilled into his head about listening to his bodyguards--so he kept his mutterings to himself and tried not to fight Tyler's manhandling of him too much. But for fuck's sake, did he have to be so rough?! It was a miracle he didn't trip over himself once he was shoved back. Once again, Tyler gave an order, and Lucas begrudgingly obeyed, doing his best to stay back and as far away from the action while not straying too far from his Templar.

He did let out an irritated sigh, more annoyed than concerned. From what he could see--which wasn't much, he somehow missed the lights going out since he had been glued to his phone--he didn't recognize the armor their would-be assailants wore. They were aggressive against Tyler, but Lucas was pretty sure they were after him. The ballroom was in absolute chaos from what he could hear, which was likely intentional. What a pain. He hoped Tyler would change his mind and just get him out of here, the Veradis force was likely coming to join with whatever detail was being lent to protect the royal family.

"Rosemary," He suddenly realized that poor kid was likely terrified of everything going on and he even went so far as to take a step. No, running in was completely stupid, and that She-Beast was probably tearing off the limbs of anyone who got close. That and he was pretty sure Tyler would be the type to break Lucas' leg to keep him out of danger.

He took a step back, and he suddenly felt every hair on his body rise. There was this bizarre sense of foreboding behind him, like someone was directly behind him. The sound of a nearby shot sent him into a panic, and instead of slowing things down as was his intention, everything around him froze in place. Silence was the only thing accompanying him as nothing moved in the darkness, Rosemary's light no longer wavering. But that sense of danger was still on him, and everything in his mind told him he needed to move.

To his absolute shock, the sound of metal hitting the ground rang out, and Lucas' thumb mashed the side of his phone, turning on the flashlight function to see what that was. The sight of the dull-looking sword was already surprising enough, but what shocked Lucas more was the figure clearly moving, unaffected by time itself being frozen. The armor was poorly hidden underneath the suit, but the red scarf flowed around him. On a second look, Lucas realized the 'scarf' was pure mana flowing around the man, but it didn't seem to affect him in the slightest as he withdrew a pistol, aiming it at Lucas.

"It would be more prudent if you surrendered yourself to me," His voice was distorted into something more robotic-sounding. "Be reasonable. Our orders are to bring you in alive."

"How aren't you frozen?" Lucas couldn't help himself as he took a few steps away from the tin can. He could feel himself getting nervous, but let his shock be obvious as he continued to keep moving. He wasn't entirely sure if that gun of his was exempt from his time manipulation, but he had to assume it was an attempt to get him to obey Mr. Robot's orders.

"That is not your concern."

"I'm going to assume it's the armor letting you manipulate mana...somehow," It wasn't the most creative of guesses, but a pretty safe one on his part. "I've never heard of anything that could do this. Wouldn't it have been easier to try to get me alone if you could do this?"

The man finally started to walk forward, likely onto Lucas' plan on getting to Tyler. "Do not make this difficult. It would be ideal if you were unharmed, but so long as you are alive, no one will bat an eye to you return with broken bones," He stated, extending his weapon arm.

"Then do it," Lucas called his bluff, turning on his heel. He wasn't far, and he took the risk of getting shot. The man's bluff was just that, and once Lucas placed his hand on Tyler's shoulder, the Templar would see everything frozen around him. "We have a problem." Lucas said as he motioned to the armored man.

---

@Scribe of Thoth

---

What a pleasant evening! Bianca carried her wine happily, watching the party unfold with little care for anything. Justinian was behaving, the wine was divine, and things were going relatively smoothly. She had opted to change out of the Templar uniform into a very simple, sleek black dress that she had bought a while back but never got the chance to use. For once, she was letting her hair down, relaxing, and genuinely enjoying herself.

So of course the night went to Sheol and everything was ruined.

That anyone would be able to ambush the Giles Manor with such organization was greatly concerning. Leaving the nobles blind had added to their panic, but Bianca was more concerned about Justinian immediately leaping into action. And to think she had commended him for listening to her. "What--No, no, don't!" She called out, but Justinian had already manipulated the floor. The magic didn't help the panic as people ended up scattering in different directions. They were blind and scared and like always her Scion didn't bother thinking!

Bianca immediately slammed her crystal onto her chest, moving as her armor formed and gave her the freedom of movement her dress didn't. Using firearms with so many civilians around was out of the question, and it took a lot of effort to try to undo Justinian's manipulations. Either he didn't realize he was the target or he was completely blind to the situation as a whole and driven by something else. At the moment, she had to worry for herself as two of them started to shoot at her. Their bullets were stopped by her armor and she stomped once into the ground, sending the pair into the floor and trapped them there. As she turned to Justinian, she was hit in the head by something--likely the butt of a rifle. While she reeled from the hit, she turned and made to tackle him, but instead she grabbed his ankle and yanked his leg upwards. The mook was unprepared and fell, though he found his limbs held by the stone as Bianca kept moving.

She found Justinian and got in front of him, only stopping herself from smacking him because he was encased in rock. "You're making people panic and you're going to bring down the entire place on everyone if you keep using your magic carelessly!" She yelled at him.

---

@Raijinslayer

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Ezekiel watched Tyler, ambivalent to his words for the most part. He didn’t dismiss him right away, though his eyes did flicker towards the door Theodore had hurried to. He made a noise of affirmation and looked back at the party, ultimately deciding that Tyler’s priorities were in the right place.

“I hope your previous experience will help you wrangle your new charge. He’s about as foolish as they get–you have my sympathy,” He stated dryly. “A word to the wise, however: once you’ve come to the castle, you should dismiss any notion of vengeance. The prince is to remain at Estora Castle until he’s cleaned up his act.”

He gave Tyler a small wave of dismissal as he turned to leave, though he added before he departed, “If he’s on the floor, leave him there. Goddess knows that’d be the least embarrassing outcome of the night.”

Tyler had to hold himself back from scoffing. Dismiss any notion of vengeance? He was the sword of Theodore Estora the Ninth, now and forevermore; his present assignment didn’t change that, nor did it change his priorities. The fact that Lucas was evidently on house arrest was a curious development, but given his temperament, it certainly made sense in hindsight.

Either way, Ezekiel was gone, and Tyler was free to seek out his charge, preferably with some answers waiting for him upon his arrival.

Lucas was at one of the sinks closest to the stalls, vigorously brushing his teeth and looking annoyed. He actually felt a lot better now that everything was said and done, but he still felt a little weak. He debated on whether to retire while he could still walk or to tough it out, but he couldn’t ignore the problem any longer. If these visions kept escalating they were going to end up crippling him. Or worse, he’d end up with mana poisoning. And then what?

He was brought out of his thoughts by the bathroom attendant’s look in the mirror. “Should I call for someone, Your Highness?” The man asked him as Lucas gargled some water.

Lucas nearly spat on the attendant, throwing him a glare. Did he look like he wanted anyone seeing him like this? He ended up spitting in the sink, shaking his head. “You’re not going to tell me I’m the first guest to blow chunks in this shit place. I remember Giles’ little shindig after passing some green initiative–if you didn’t see Duke Stern holding onto the toilet for dear life or Duchess Enderton blowing some guy in a stall here, then you must be new,” He went on his mini-rant, pushing the toothbrush and paste aside before splashing some water on his face.

Tyler threw open the door to the bathroom and scanned the room with practiced vigilance. No mages throwing a hex down upon Lucas, at least, nor tedious onlookers save for the sole attendant.

“You. Out.” Tyler ordered, pointing at the attendant and then the door in succession. His tone left little room for debate, though he approached with full intent to toss the man out by force if necessary.

The attendant bowed his head at the order and made to leave, only stopping in place when he caught Lucas’ glare. “Ignore him, I need a comb and towel,” The prince stated before he continued to scrub his face.

Tyler sighed. “You’re not getting any prettier, Your Highness, nor are you getting out of this conversation. Give it up.” He turned back to shoo the man away again. “I’d hate to have to remove such a dutiful worker myself over your stubbornness.”

The man stiffened considerably at Tyler’s statement, and with another bow, speeded out of the bathroom, making sure to take a wide path to avoid the pair. Lucas looked up from the sink, unamused.

“Chicken shit coward,” He muttered, wiping off any dripping water from his chin before running his hands through his hair. He did, however, glance at Tyler through the mirror. “What, that you’re not even going to let me shit in peace for the rest of my life? I’ll live somehow.”

Tyler didn’t even bother to feign a smile, and instead approached to grasp for Lucas’ shoulder and physically turn him around. “I’m not interested in the size of your logs, idiot, I wanna know what just happened back there. You don’t seem too worried, so I have to assume you know something I don’t.”

Lucas outright rolled his eyes, albeit he didn’t appreciate Tyler touching him. “Getting doubled over after a prophecy’s just the norm for me now. Would’ve been nice if I had seen anything, but it’s just flashes again,” He replied, albeit he was more annoyed at himself as he talked about it. His hand absentmindedly touched his throat as he scowled. “Didn’t think you were the caring type.”

“It’s quite literally in my job description,” Tyler spat, not too happy about it himself, “I thought we were under attack.”

Lucas opened his mouth to shoot back, but stopped, eyebrows shooting up in sincere surprise. “...’we’...?” He uttered in shock. “What do you mean ‘we’? That’s–wait.”

He looked around the bathroom for a moment, taking a few steps towards the empty wall and placing his hand on it. His sigil appeared on his forehead once again as he recited, “Nemo audiat,” and a light blue ripple emanated from his hand, covering each wall and lightly fading away. Any noise that could have gotten through sounded much more muted than before. Once he was finished, he stepped back and turned to Tyler again.

“It’s not an attack. Or I hope it isn’t, at least,” Lucas admitted. He didn’t say anything else for a moment, thinking to himself. Eventually, he continued. “I’ll tell you if you don’t go running off to Marge about it. I don’t want to get hounded and prodded by Goddess knows what.”

Tyler narrowed his eyes incredulously as Lucas tried to explain. This idiot didn’t even know he was spilling his magic into anything nearby. Or maybe it was some facet of the Scion-Templar blessing that did it, given Ezekiel seemed none the wiser that something less than mundane had occurred. Theo’s impotent ineptitude was a blessing compared to whatever that was.

“Yeah, we, your little display hit me too. And you’re about to be hounded and prodded by yours truly if you don’t get to the point.” The fact that he was worried Tyler would immediately tattle to the Church told him that the prince was definitely doing something irresponsible with his magic, though he had no idea why, given it seemed to wreak havoc on his body.

“I’m not fucking around,” Lucas snapped. “I need you to serve me, not the Church. If any of them got wind of it, I’d end up imprisoned or under house arrest or shipped off to Doumerc for them to study or–” He caught himself before he got too frantic, pinching the bridge of his nose, but he eventually dropped his hand.

“I need to know you’re on my side,” He finished.

Tyler was under suspicion of serving the Church too well? Could he get that in writing? A social media post maybe? Theodore might’ve been wrapped around his little finger for reasons Tyler still didn’t understand, but that certainly wasn’t at the Church’s behest. Though he had to admit, the prince’s doomsaying piqued his interest. Making himself vomit was that juicy, huh?

“Your father gave me the impression you already are under house arrest, but I digress,” Tyler mused dismissively, “Fine, I’ll bite, shall I genuflect for my accolade now or will you accept that I have very little reason to kiss up to the High Cardinal?”

Lucas let out a very long sigh at the news, but didn’t seem all too surprised at it. He clearly wanted to comment on it, but figured he’d focus on the more urgent matter. Instead, he turned back to the mirror, placing the tip of his finger on the surface. The Holy Sigil appeared with its usual coloring, but there was what appeared to be lettering surrounding it. It expanded as Lucas pushed his hand through the surface, and he pulled out what looked like an extremely old tome. He opened it as carefully as he could once the sigil disappeared from the mirror and reappeared on the cover, and his fingers tapped the first page.

“I’m not sure if Theo ever showed you this–he wasn’t supposed to, if he did. I’m not really even supposed to, either, but whatever,” Lucas shook his head as his eyes looked for something specific. “The Scion of Time works a little differently than the others. We’re bound to stricter rules due to our ability to see the future, and the strongest of Time Scions have been able to outright reverse time, allegedly. As such, there’s an edict called the Order of Finality–it’s basically an ironclad rule that tells the Time Scion that they can’t do anything to alter the future no matter what they see. If castles crumble, it shouldn’t be stopped. If people die, you can’t try to prevent it. Going against the Goddess’ plan is…well, blasphemy or whatever.”

He tapped the pages, the words lighting up. “I’ve violated the edict. Several times, apparently–anytime there’s a violation, this book records it,” He carefully flipped it towards the end of the book, shaking his head. “And it wasn’t until this morning that I understood why. I’m not supposed to be the Scion of Time.”

No, Theo had never shown Tyler the magic mirror book, surely because he had the good sense to know any dusty old tome shoved in Tyler’s face would be shoved right back out of it. The explanation that accompanied it didn’t do much to assuage that urge. What a stupid idea, to neuter the gift of foresight so egregiously. Did any of them happen to note that the Goddess’ plan also conveniently included said vision being witnessed in the first place?

He shook his head; theological gripes aside, he didn’t see what that had to do with anything. How exactly did that tie into magic headaches with fucking area of effect damage?

“Seems a bit moot to swear me to secrecy when there’s a magic book that’ll tattle on you anyway. Don’t suppose you can burn the thing and be done with it,” Tyler muttered, only half-joking, “How exactly did you violate a law that’s only applied to you for a week? Did you foresee pancakes for breakfast and eat bacon instead?”

Lucas stared at Tyler for a moment, closing his eyes to resist rolling them again. “The book tattles when the Scion goes out of their way to change the future. They can warn people about natural disasters, I guess–that’s what a lot of my predecessors did–but otherwise I don’t know. My assumption is that it’s something that alters the future or something, but who the fuck knows how you’re supposed to judge that.”

He paused. “There’s some other things, but I think I’ve already lost you,” He shrugged. “I’ve been a magic user since I was a child, but once I became a Scion, my mana’s been going haywire. That’s that ‘attack’ you experienced. Granted, I didn’t think it’d affect other people,” He let his mind wander for a second as he tried to remember something. “Arthur didn’t react, nor did the butler who was around. I wonder if it’s because you’re a Templar, or if it’s because of the blessing…no one’s seemed to notice otherwise, so I can’t be entirely sure about it.”

He trailed off, letting himself think. After a moment, he gave Tyler a deadpan expression as he snapped the book shut. “You’re awfully nonchalant considering I just told you I’m using magic that isn’t meant to be mine,” He commented as he put the book down for the moment. “...at least, that’s how I’ve felt since that day. And then, this morning, I saw Theo with Rosemary speaking with the Shadow guy, K something.”

A weary expression crossed Tyler’s face as Lucas concluded his explanation. “I mean this in the least disrespectful way I can - no one on this planet knows that magic shouldn’t belong to you better than me.” Rather than hang his head as he wanted to, he sucked in a breath and straightened his posture. “And what do you mean you ‘saw Theo’? I doubt you meant to taunt me with the fat one, and he was talking to the Commander anyway.”

Lucas tilted his head as he understood the lack of reaction. Right, right, he needed to be clearer. “Anytime I mention ‘Theo’ it can and will always be the superior one–Theodore Estora,” He decided to get that out of the way first and foremost.

He made sure to place the book down first before he crossed his arms. “That room we were gathered in was supposed to just be a waiting room with no blessing taking place while they did whatever church stuff they did with the Templars’ crystals. All the Scions and Templars were gathered around and talking after that one chick brought her cookies in. I saw Theodore elbow you and motion towards the cookies, you left him, and the Shadow Scion approached Theo and they spoke about some book or whatever. Rosemary was running around, and Theo stopped and picked her up the same way I did,” He explained. “Basically…Theo was in my place in the vision, interacting with the same people.”

The prince made sure Tyler was paying close attention to him. “When I say I’m not supposed to be the Scion of Time, I mean that in the literal sense. Theodore is meant to be alive here and now, and I’m not guilt tripping or being wistful–I’ve taken his place.”

Tyler stared in Lucas’ general direction. Ordinarily, this would’ve been called looking at him, but Tyler wasn’t. The templar’s gaze peered through Lucas, as if he was hiding a lie on the inside of his skull and Tyler could rip it out with only his eyes. His failure was a literal divine comedy, a blemish so catastrophic that the Mother Herself refused to acknowledge it. Tyler could’ve laughed. A weaker Tyler would’ve cried. He did neither.

In that instant, he hated the Scion standing before him, viscerally and truly. What use was the sanctity of his soul when it had been sullied so thoroughly already? He could despise the man without regret or guilt. Then he paused, and the feeling was gone. His eyes slipped shut for a few moments as Tyler fought for his composure, then he reopened them as he spoke. With any luck, there was an opportunity here.

“So your very existence is a violation, is that it? Which means Theo’s death was a violation, which means the perpetrator is recorded, right?”

Lucas frowned at Tyler, though he didn’t respond to his change of demeanor. Instead, he tapped a line, the words glowing in the book.

“It’s not here,” He replied. “What is here is that Theo drove to Serenity Springs alone. I agree with your line of thought, but I have a different conclusion.”

He didn’t bother pausing, but he was a touch hesitant before he stated, “I think–with absolutely no proof–he’s alive.”

Tyler wanted to smack him. This was the exact brand of copium that he thought they’d all moved past months ago, and he didn’t need it thrown back in his face just so he could swallow another bitter draught of reality.

“The blessing faded. I felt it. You’re the Scion of Time. There’s nothing else to discuss,” he snarled, perhaps unduly harsh. What bothered him more was the specifics of the record. Theo wasn’t supposed to go alone. That meant he’d foreseen himself in the car with someone else and decided not to allow that for some asinine reason, otherwise it wouldn’t have been a violation.

Idiot.

“But you won’t need to speculate - I will kill every last person involved before the Goddess takes me. Pry the answers from their lips when I do, if you still have the stomach left to dream.”

Tyler’s response caused Lucas to look away, his gaze elsewhere. “Right,” He replied quietly. He then let silence fill the room, the only sound he made was closing the book and returning it to his rightful place. Taking in a deep breath, he turned back to the mirror, fingers dragging his bangs down into something still messy, but more to his satisfaction.

“That’s the long version of why that ‘attack’ happened. I don’t know when it’ll happen again or if you’ll keep getting affected,” He stated. “...whatever the case may be, I’m not planning on sitting around. Once the New Year passes, I’m going to Doumerc. Fyodor is still looking into things quietly, and he’s got someone at one of the academies looking into the circumstances around Theodore’s vehicle.”

He straightened up, shrugging at his reflection. “I hope you’re good at climbing out of windows. If Father wants to put me on house arrest, we’re going to have to sneak out,” He said, eyes on Tyler at last.

The mention of Fyodor broke Tyler from his quiet sulking. That old bastard was good for something after all, and he hadn’t told Tyler a thing. Probably because he knew exactly where Tyler would be the moment he learned, but he could hold it against the man for a bit anyway.

At the mention of Lucas’ plan to break curfew, Tyler merely offered a sly grin. “You forget who you’re talking to, Your Highness - and who you are. I could strip the man down to his underpants before he even noticed I’d entered the room if I felt like it.” How delightfully middle school.

Lucas looked back at his own reflection for a moment, slowly nodding. He pushed himself away from the sink and stood straight. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it. “Good. Then we’re in agreement,” He said as he pulled out his phone, noticing the time. “We’ll leave after the countdown to the new year, I don’t feel like shit anymore so you won’t have to drag me back after all.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Tyler muttered. He’d been given a lot of information, and none of it felt worthwhile to linger on yet all of it felt relevant. Ultimately, it didn’t mean anything. He and Lucas were in accord, in motive if not in personality, and that was enough for him. If he couldn’t move heaven and earth for Theodore anymore, the least he could do was move the royal family and put up with a moody brat to avenge him.

“Will you be returning to the party now?” he asked with little expectancy in his tone, as if the prospect of watching the countdown on his phone over a urinal was equally enticing.

“Tragically so, someone said I wasn’t pretty so I need to go make myself feel better by standing against the wall doing nothing and have people flock to me,” Lucas replied, regaining some of his previous energy–he hadn’t realized just how tired all of this was leaving him. He wasn’t entirely serious, but he didn’t doubt it wouldn’t happen since he had a tendency to draw eyes to him whether he wanted it or not. “Think I’ll grab a drink or two on the way,” He muttered to himself, motioning for Tyler to follow him as he walked to the door. He only stopped briefly to dispel the magic he previously had on the walls, allowing sound once again to leave and enter before pushing the door open and walking out.

---

The young woman watched Edmund warily, listening quietly to his words as she focused on picking up the smaller pieces. She hesitated for a moment as she noticed Edmund's cut, frowning to herself. She followed suit as Edmund stood, pausing again as the lights flickered. "I wish someone had told me that a long time ago," She admitted quietly, though Edmund would certainly catch it. She looked up to the ceiling as the lights flickered once again and took off her white gloves. Letting them fall to the ground, she replaced them with a black pair, the seams glowing a faint light blue as she pulled them on.

Raising one hand, she snapped her fingers, and the lights finally gave out and plunged the room into darkness. Everyone was confused, but remained in place, with some insisting that there was no way Giles didn't have a backup generator. The instance was treated as more of an annoyance than anything, but the entire room came to a halt as dark shadows began to cover the multitude of windows. They disappeared as they all shattered at once, a multitude of soldiers clad in masks and red cloaks threw themselves into the ballroom. It took all of two seconds before a panic ensued as the masses began to move. Security made an attempt to descend onto their charges, stopped by the soldiers as more of them poured in. Any attempt at organization was gone as people hastily tried to save themselves, screams ascending as bullets started getting fired.

Sonia couldn't believe what she was seeing--or what she wasn't. Rosemary woke up at the commotion and leapt out of her seat, holding a tiny hand up to the ceiling and squeezing her eyes shut as the holy sigil on her cheek glowed. With a great amount of effort, a giant orb of light hung above, illuminating their part of the ballroom. Guards immediately encircled them to protect the king, though the soldiers closed in quickly. Sonia recognized their movement as she realized their efforts were concentrated into trying to overcome the guards surrounding her and Rosemary instead of the ones protecting the king.

One slipped past, weapon at his side as his hand reached for Rosemary. To his shock, the little girl disappeared before his eyes, and he never got the chance to wonder as a pillar of mana pierced out of his chest. He was casually tossed aside as Sonia beckoned the next one, finding delight as he raised his gun at her. A flash of light was the only thing seen as Sonia moved in the blink of an eye, driving her mana sword into his arm and twisting it downward. She ignored his scream as she looked around, a comatose thrill reawakened in her.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were targeting my princess," Sonia said out loud, barely containing her grin. "Now, is it just her, or are you targeting the other Scions, too?"

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

The royal family were collected off to the side of the ballroom, currently fussing over the High King. He looked a little shakier after the ceremony, but was refusing to take a seat, instead choosing to greet those that approached him. Both of his sons were in a losing fight, his grandchildren more concerned over the brothers potentially arguing. Rosemary held Erica's hand, eyes slowly drooping, but she was being particularly stubborn anytime Sonia asked if she wanted to go to bed. And so Sonia stood witness, a little concerned but wondering if it would be appropriate if she just picked up the princess and carried her off.

"Why don't you have a seat, Your Majesty?" Caralynn, Julius' wife, asked him.

Nathaniel shook his head. Ezekiel gave Azrael a look that told him to leave the man alone, but he knew it would go ignored. Instead, he approached his son and daughter-in-law. He gave Rosemary a slight bow out of respect before addressing her sister. "If you would get my father to rest, I'd be in your debt, Princess," He told her quietly, patting Arthur's shoulder before parting from the group.

Erica scarcely even acknowledged Caralynn's words, but she gave Rosemary a gentle tug as she left her husband to join Nathaniel. She briefly looked over at Caralynn and the two women exchanged brief, icy glances before Erica gave Nathaniel a small smile.

"You must be so tired of all these people fussing over you, Grandfather," She giggled a touch. "I fear they forget who it is they're addressing."

Caralynn's lips tightened into a straight line. "I speak only out of concern," She replied, barely containing her ire.

"Is this how I'm seen? Decrepit and in need of assistance?" Nathaniel muttered in a rather hoarse voice.

Caralynn was mortified at the high king's words. Erica once again ignored her and looked down at Rosemary, who was rubbing her eye. "Do you think the high king needs assistance?" She asked her.

When Rosemary shook her head, she stifled a yawn. The high king's expression softened considerably, and he beckoned a nearby servant. Within a minute, servants carried over a few chairs and placed them down as the king instructed. At that point, Erica sat Rosemary down at the end, and turned to sit herself. Her belly, however, gave her trouble, but Arthur didn't move. Instead, Nathaniel offered a hand, and she managed to sit comfortably, flashing him a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Erica patted the seat next to her. "Sit with me, I think the baby's starting to kick from all the excitement."

Like magic, the high king followed suit. Erica watched him briefly before looking at Caralynn with a smile, though her smugness was transparent to all. Caralynn outright turned and stomped off with her husband chasing her, and it was only then that Azrael conceded defeat, leaving to seek refreshments. Arthur occupied the space next to his grandfather as Erica invited him to touch her belly, her free hand stroking Rosemary's hair as the little girl leaned against her, eyes getting heavier.

Caralynn was in a big rush to get away, positively fuming. However, in her haste she crashed right into a servant, sending the tray the woman had been carrying flying. The woman glared at the servant, who froze in place.

"Have you no shame? Not even an apology for bumping into me?!" Caralynn yelled.

Her words managed to unfreeze the woman, who bowed immediately. Despite her uniform and manicured platinum locks, her demeanor painted her as inexperienced, and she was clearly embarrassed. She then hastily knelt down and began to pick up the shattered glasses, trying to put them on the tray as fast as she could. Her blue eyes darted up towards Caralynn, but she regretted it as the woman continued to glare at her.

Not too far from the commotion, Duke Gile was having a pleasant chat with Valentino Bachmeier. The pair had been briefly speaking before Valentino called another man over.

"And this here is Duke Andres Colton. You'll remember that his territory borders both Rodion and Dourmerc, I daresay none are more eager to try for peace than he," He explained. "He was working with Theodore before his death if you'll recall."

Andres Colton was a tall, redheaded fellow, and elicited looks on his Kaudus origin alone. However, he shook Giles' hand with a lot of warmth, giving him a brilliant smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, and thank you again for the invitation," He told him. "I know tensions have been high, but I sincerely hope we can count on your support."

---

Lucas rubbed his temples with his fingers, feeling his head was ready to explode. After a few seconds, his holy sigil glowed, his eyes looking up at Tyler with a dull expression on his face.

"She of gold is Incepta. Her shadow is red of blood," He recited, his voice barely audible over the music. He reached up towards Tyler, still speaking. "Beware the red of blood. Beware--"

The mana in the air around them sharpened, and it felt like every breath invited daggers into Lucas and Tyler's chest. For just a brief moment, the air around them turned a light blue. Lucas' eyes widened and he immediately doubled over, his hands flying to his head. It felt like something was around his throat and attempting to pull the tongue out of his mouth, the air stabbing him over and over. But as quickly as it came, it vanished. The mana dissipated and stabilized, and everything looked normal once more. It was highly unlikely that anyone without a great amount of mana noticed, the crowd continuing as they were.

For whatever reason, Lucas launched himself out of his seat, but all that did was bring back his previous dizziness in full force. He slammed his hand against the wall to balance himself properly, a hand over his face. This time he was actually going to lose it.

As he drew in a shaky breath, however, Ezekiel approached the pair. The older man wasn't impressed with the sight, an eyebrow raised at Lucas. "Had your fill of alcohol already?" He asked.

Lucas lifted his head and turned towards Ezekiel, crossing his arms. For all intents and purposes, he didn't look affected by what just happened at all, with the exception of retaining his paleness. "Just feeling under the weather," He replied cooly. His hand gestured towards his Scion. "Sir Tyler Morris, this is Prince Ezekiel."

"I'm aware," Ezekiel replied.

"Okay. I'm going to go take a leak, unless you want to come watch me do that, too?" He asked his father, already taking a few steps away. "No? Alright, I'll be back, then." When he saw Ezekiel's face harden, Lucas unfolded his arms and threw a few finger guns at him before turning on his heel and speedwalking towards the bathroom. He forced himself to keep it together, using every method he knew, biting down on the inside of his mouth as he narrowly avoided knocking someone over before pushing the bathroom door open. He opened the first stall he found and immediately expelled everything from his stomach.

Meanwhile, Ezekiel gave Tyler a brief, judgmental scan. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Morris," Ezekiel said, his tone betraying his words entirely. "Fyodor must have some confidence restoring you to your former position. I take it you're pleased with this decision?"

---

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Lucas could feel his headache pulsing at his fingertips, an ill omen for how long it intended to stay. He had no idea where his father was, but he was certain he'd pop up at any second and start insisting that Lucas stop embarrassing himself and start socializing properly. Between the headache and potentially dealing with that, he wasn't sure which was worse, but the headache was slowly taking the lead. Honestly, the best thing to do was to just leave. One of his brother's houses wasn't too far from here, he could just show up and they'd house him without any issue. It would unfortunately mean his father would know and show up tomorrow, but that would be a problem for Tomorrow Lucas. Today Lucas just wanted to lie down.

The champagne flute suddenly appearing in his vision let him know that he wasn't alone. Taking in a deep breath, Lucas dropped his hand and looked up at his Templar, a vague disinterest plastered on his face. No, he wasn't entirely disinterested, Tyler was being a dick and Lucas wanted to insult him back, but there was a problem. Tyler's words nearly blended in with the chatter in the background as it took Lucas a moment to register that he was being spoken to. He was probably going to pass out, but he sure as fuck was going to make sure he got something out before he did.

"Keep being an ass and I'm going to vomit on your shoes," Lucas managed to snap.

Not his strongest comeback.

Frustrated--and refusing to let that be the last thing he said before he inevitably hit the ground--Lucas took in a deep breath and raised an eyebrow at Tyler. "If I gave a fuck about what anyone in this world said about me, I probably would've killed myself twenty-something years ago when I realized there was nothing I could do to live up to my golden child brother or saint of a cousin. Unfortunately for you and the world, I have every intention of living out of pure spite," Lucas continued. "Better get used to the spotlight, it follows me everywhere."

Nope, word vomit, not getting better, but he gave up at that point. He plucked the champagne flute from Tyler's hand and downed it in one go. "What really bothers me is that I've taken enough aspirin to guarantee I'm going to have liver problems down the line and I still feel like my head's splitting open," He sighed. "Just drag my ass back to the car and leave me in there when I finally pass out, I don't think I'm going to make it back to my hotel."

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

How did exactly did Kasper think Lucas showed promise exactly? Did he have his head up his own ass or was he unaware of Lucas' very public, problematic behavior? The response was about what Lucas had expected but he wasn't sure what the other Scion's line of thought was. His opinion of Rosemary wasn't too surprising since everyone thought the same thing, but the response was half-assed, empty, void of any original thought. One could mistake it for something proper but Lucas knew it was a neutral, servable response and not what Kasper really thought. Oh well, this one was a dud, and any interest Lucas had in continuing the conversation was gone.

Mercifully, Kasper ended the conversation before he could, and Lucas outright rolled his eyes. Sadly, where one boring Scion went another appeared, killing Lucas' desire to stand there and do nothing. His eyes nearly glazed over as the guy mentioned something about a gift and a legacy and blah...fuck, he couldn't even pretend to care, his disinterest plainly written on his face as he stared back at whoever this was. Said gift was presented to him as a rather dull looking rock with the holy sigil glittering light blue, likely to match Lucas' element of time.

Lucas had half a mind to reject the gift under the premise of not having any pockets, but something about the rock looked familiar. It hit him as he opened his mouth to speak--he had seen it before. He hadn't initially recognized it but the entire thing was supposed to be light blue, Theodore had one just like it on his desk and said that it had been a gift from a new friend of his. Once the thought crossed his mind, he straightened up a touch, looking the man up and down. Man was a strong word, this guy looked like he was perpetually stuck at the age of seventeen. He actually recognized the face, too; this was the one that kept doing stupid shit and had an online following.

The prince reached out and touched the rock gingerly, looking at it for a moment before looking up at his face. "It doesn't look anything like Theo's," He commented. "If you're going to regift something, you should try putting some actual thought to it. Or..."

He pushed himself off the wall, pushing aside the outstretched hand and getting right in his face. "If you have a problem, be a big boy and speak up."

Meanwhile Sonia nodded at Zacharie's statement. "That's good, the implant's constant upgrades are sort of a pain. Handy, but 'yknow, all in the pursuit of getting better stuff!" She told him, then grinned at Ionna. "I think it's cool, too."

Any further conversation would come to a halt as Fyodor glanced at his watch and excused himself, walking to the double doors. Within ten seconds, they opened, revealing a pair of church knights accompanying a tall, white haired woman. Lucas already knew what was going to happen and chose to disengage, though not without shoulder checking What's-His-Face on the way as he scooped Rosemary up, much to her delight. Every Templar present would immediately recognize her as Dame Irina Albakova, one of the senior Templars in charge of training inexperienced recruits. She held a small, open box housing ten crystals, each one colored in accordance to their element.

“Good evening Holy Ones, esteemed Templars,” she greeted the gathered audience in a palpable Rodian accent, offering a reverent dip of the head. “I thank you for your patience. The Brothers and Sisters of the Cathedra Incepta have blessed your armor crystals; Templars, please form a line to receive them. They will be worn on the chest as we proceed into the main chapel.” Although she spoke with great deference, the commanding presence of her voice left no room for discussion, a familiar sound to those who trained under her.

As each Templar took their crystal, Irina gave them a nod and a blessing: “May the Mother be your buckler and spear.”

Abram and Ulysse ended up continuing their conversation, but walked together and took up the rear. Princess Isabella watched them for a second, a small frown on her face, though she returned her attention to Nadine. “Doumerc needs to take its defenses seriously and stop relying on Rodion to bail them out at every turn,” She said, giving the older woman a serious look. “You need only say the word, I can convince Mother to lend Rosarian ships to the cause. The Prime Minister follows your every word.”

Nadine let out a laugh. “It’s all hearsay, my child,” She dismissed the offer. “The Federation is reeling from the loss of Theodore, any decisions made now are born of emotion and not logic.”

“And you think it irrational?”

“He would have wanted a peaceful resolution. He would not have wanted blood shed in his name.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “That desire for peace is why we need to show Kaudus that they made a grave mistake,” She stated, insistent. “The ones responsible went through Doumerc, not Rodion. This is something I’ll be bringing up with High King Nathaniel as well.”

Nadine let out a sigh. “I’d advise against that. This is a time for celebration and remembrance.”

Once each Templar had retrieved their crystal and donned it, Irina addressed the assembly again. “Holy Ones, you will proceed into the main chapel in a line; Templars, you will each follow immediately behind your charge. Please line up now.” She took up her position and gestured behind her, ensuring there was no confusion. “Once ready, I will lead you in, and Commander Fyodor will take up the rear. Thank you.”

---

The Scions were lead through a path that took them from their previous chamber back to the entrance without going through the main hall. They stopped in front of a pair of double doors that lead into the main chapel. Once everyone had arrived, Commander Fyodor walked to the doors, turning back to address the Templars. “Arm yourselves,” He ordered.

The seasoned Dame Sonia placed her crystal on her chest, channeling a touch of mana to it. When she dropped her hand, the crystal remained alight with a bright, white glow, and metallic material shot out and covered her clothes and skin. Despite its form-fitting look, she was perfectly comfortable, though she touched the crystal again, the uniform’s cape dropping down and the crown forming on her head. A series of multi-colored flashes mimicked her as the rest of the Templars followed her lead.

After one minute, the double doors opened, and Fyodor walked in with the group following behind. The people stood and turned to look at the group walking down the aisle in quiet awe. The few permitted cameras followed them eagerly, and a few whispers followed suit. A closer look at the audience showed that those in attendance were those from high places, an assortment of dukes and wealthy folks who had connections. In front sat several of the Estoran Federation’s leaders, surrounded by an assortment of security.

The first the group would see was President Bruno Esposito, whose clothes were much more modest in comparison to the other leaders, but his smile was warmer as he gave the group a modest bow. After him was Prime Minister Pierre Dumont, a lanky, older gentleman who needed to be prodded to pay attention, though he bowed all the same. Tsar Aleksander Kresnik was next, and he was much like Fyodor in that he was much more imposing and gruffer than others. He gave the group a shallow bow, but it seemed more out of difficulty moving as opposed to disrespect. Queen Merecedes Callidora would be the next leader, looking particularly young for her age, but keen eyes would spot her age lines just starting to form. She gave the group a curtsy, a dazzling smile following as she raised her head.

High King Nathaniel stood in all his arguable splendor, with both of his sons, Ezekiel and Azrael, on either side of him. The two men were stern and graying, looking at Lucas with equal discontent. Next to Ezekiel was his son and Lucas’ brother, Arthur–who seemed much more approachable than his father–who held hands with his wife, Erica Bachmeier. She looked much like Rosemary, but bore golden curls and sapphire eyes. On seeing her older sister, Rosemary gave her a poorly hidden wave, and Erica happily reciprocated, her hand then resting on her pregnant belly. The group bowed their heads in unison.

Prince Rowan stood tall, watching his daughter with the utmost pride, his smile widening as hers did. He dipped his head in respect as well.

Commander Fyodor led the Scions up onto the grand dais and took his spot next to Elijah. Once the Scions were lined up, the bishop of the church approached the podium, beckoning for the crowd to sit. The bishop resembled Prince Rowan greatly, complete with matching brown hair and blue eyes that shone as he looked towards everyone.

“Good evening, my brothers and sisters,” He spoke. “On this auspicious day we gather to celebrate a momentous occasion–the millennial anniversary of the divine blessing bestowed on us by the gracious goddess Incepta. When William Bachmeier gave out his prayer, Incepta answered, and we were given the holy Scions to carry out Her will. Today’s ceremony will be heralded by High Cardinal Margaret. Please give her a warm welcome!”

The audience broke into applause as the high cardinal took to the dais, now dressed in holy garments passed down through generations of cardinals. She placed her hand on the bishop’s shoulder as he walked past her and down towards the front seats, where a multitude of church mages stood carrying what looked like bowls of glowing water.

Margaret herself approached the podium. “Thank you, Brother Bachmeier, and to all for a warm welcome. It is with hearts full of gratitude and reverence that we come together today to reflect upon a thousand years of Her benevolence,” Margaret stated, unfettered by her audience or the cameras all pointed in her direction as everyone waited on her every word. “I would like to take this opportunity to formally introduce our newest Scion–blessed is he with the power of Time, arbiter of the future who inherits the Sight like those before him. Our Goddess has determined that the best candidate for this position is His Royal Highness, Prince Lucas Estora the tenth.”

She looked back at said prince, whose expression was stony at best. He took a step forward and placed a hand on his chest before giving the crowd a shallow bow. There was a round of polite applause, but people immediately broke into murmurs. He straightened up and looked to Margaret for approval with a quirked brow, and she gave him a nod, allowing him to step back in line with the rest of the Scions.

“In the celestial dance of time, more than a thousand years ago, our beloved Mother once walked the world with us. When she departed, she asked us not to feel sorrow, for she would always walk with us,” Margaret continued, the crowd silencing itself to listen. “We see this every day in our Scions, the living proof of Incepta’s blessings. In the tapestry of history, the Scions of the past were like a radiant dawn and brought light into the darkest corners. As we stand on the shoulders of a thousand years, let us remember the genesis of these sacred blessings and the power they have had on our lives.”

The water began to glow at the end of her words as the mages channeled mana into them. She lifted her arm, revealing a bejeweled bangle, and the mana followed suit. Closing her hand, the mana dispersed, giving the air a glittering effect.

“With our hearts open wide, let us offer our deepest gratitude to Incepta, and may our actions reflect the abundance of her love. Let our hearts be filled with joy, that we may see another millennium be graced with even greater wonders, and may we continue to walk in the light of her blessings evermore.”

---

The rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch, and the congregation scattered once it was over. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, the sky slowly glittering with the twinkling of stars as everyone left the Cathedral Incepta. The Scions and Templars temporarily went their separate ways but gathered once again at the Gile Manor. Said manor stood on a hill, its ivy-covered walls and towering spires giving it an air of timeless elegance. The cobblestone path leading up to the entrance was lit through mana-powered lanterns and a light dusting of snow adorned the manicured gardens.

Within the main ballroom were high vaulted ceilings and crystal chandeliers, a massive fireplace roaring with fire gave the room warmth. The walls were draped in rich fabrics colored burgundy and gold. In one corner sat an ensemble of musicians gently playing music to accompany the chatter littering the air.

Duke Boetius Gile was more than ecstatic to host the New Year’s Eve celebration and played his part well, greeting everyone that came through the doors with much enthusiasm. The majority of servants were dressed in black, walking around and offering drinks and food to the guests. Anything that was asked for was given, with a set of tables showcasing a variety of dishes and sparkling champagne flutes for those who wanted to get things themselves. A majority of Gaia’s royalty and nobility was in attendance, wearing resplendent gowns and tailored suits, mingling with one another and exchanging pleasantries as well as their thoughts on the ceremony. The one thing on most people's mind was that Lucas Estora was the Scion of Time, and many comparisons to his cousin and his brother were being made.

"Theodore was a kind soul, bless him, but I don't know much about Lucas' charitable work."

"Anani was also once a heathen, and see her patronage now! With any luck, Lucas will follow in her footsteps."

"Strange times will be ahead, but only She knows why he was chosen."

Lucas himself wasn't paying much attention. By the time they got to the manor, he looked paler than he did at the church. His headache had come in with a vengeance and he scarcely offered little more than a nod to most people. He was content to stand in a corner and do nothing, but even that felt like too much. He found an empty seat and plopped down, mannerisms and etiquette be damned, rubbing his temple.

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

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Rosemary made a small noise of confirmation once Tyler answered her question, though she didn't hide the small smile she had after he patted her head. She looked up at him, or at least tried to, noticing too late that he was already walking off. She finished her cookie as she watched him approach Maya, making a tiny noise of indecision as she looked back at the cookies. As she thought to herself, she pulled out a small handkerchief out of a sewn-in pocket of the dress she wore, absentmindedly dabbing at her mouth as she teetered between her desire to follow Tyler and the desire to have another cookie.

She turned back at the sound of her name, giving Hollyhock a small nod as she tucked away her handkerchief. She watched the older Scions speak, looking to each one as they spoke, but as she wasn't addressed any longer, she began to get restless. Her hands fidgeted with a crystalline ring she wore, and she seemed to make a decision, taking another sugar cookie.

"Hummingbirds are the smallest living bird and they like nectar," She announced, turning to scurry away, but she made it about three steps before she remembered something. She immediately turned back around, approaching Ionna again. "Um, my window has a lot of hummingbird feeders. That's my fact. But I gave two facts, so..." She trailed off, but still snatched another cookie before running off.

"No one's going to chase you for eating a cookie, Your Highness!" Sonia told her, exasperated.

Rosemary looked up at her, mouth already full of cookie. She timidly offered her the second one she stole, and Sonia took it, clearly trying not to laugh. When the princess tugged on her sleeve, the woman once again knelt down swiftly, but unlike last time, she looked at Rosemary in surprise. Before she could say anything, Rosemary walked away, leaving Sonia to just laugh to herself for a second. Once she recovered, she approached the cookie bunch, sugar cookie still in hand.

"As my charge feels remorseful enough to ask me to apologize on her behalf, but not so remorseful to do it herself, I'll right the wrongs by offering my own interesting fact," Sonia said, taking a second to think. "...feel like bears are boring...But I wrestled an alligator once. Irina bet me ten bucks to wrestle with it for ten minutes. I won, of course."

She shook her cookie at Zacharie. "Caught the end of that, but I think I have your prototype," She gestured towards her own eye cover. "...or is it the other way around? Do you have a fake eye, too?"

Rosemary herself had devoured her cookie in record time, and she was once again dabbing her mouth as she watched Tyler, but she was content to just run around, clearly enjoying the small clicks and clacks of her tiny heeled shoes with each step, giggling to herself.

Meanwhile, Fyodor seemed to listen closely to Theobald. He made no change of expression as he watched Theobald interact with Sara, her dismissal not coming off as a surprise. His eyebrows did, however, knit together in what could have been construed as either concern or confusion to the Scion's request, but he wouldn't leave Theobald in the dark for too long, his response coming in after a short pause.

"Had there been any progress, I don't think the news cycles could hardly hold themselves back on reporting it," He admitted that much. "If it had been a question of manpower, I think I could sway Elijah to see my point of view and take the Scions and raze Kaudus and their false idol to the ground. Life would be easier if it was just a question of who had more might, or power, or strength."

He paused. "Everyone knows it was Kaudus that kidnapped and murdered Theodore Estora. But with no proof, there is no casus belli, and our neighbors in the south would fear we have gone mad if we went to yet another war with Kaudus," He stated. "Dr. Rhaveus has been working on a theory that would provide some explanation on how they managed to capture a man with the ability to warp time itself. Until he has his results, there is nothing to be done."

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@McMolly@Scribe of Thoth@Abstract Proxy@Xiro Zean

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Lucas' lips parted as he gave what must have been the most muted expression of confusion he ever had. This guy was fucking with him, right? Because at first, he was convinced that his not-so-subtle-and-definitely-crass innuendo went right over the dude's head and that using horses as an example was just a lucky coincidence. And then came the talk of full hands and holding superiority, and--nope, now that he was replaying it in his head, it was definitely just a poor choice of wording that he was willfully misinterpreting. If he was honest, it was actually disappointing.

He closed his mouth and gave a noise resembling either agreeance or just a confirmation that he heard what was said, even if he could feel his eyes glazing over. Sure, typical Scions likely needed to assert themselves over their Templars. Even Theo, who may not have been a royal but was still an Estora, likely had a more casual relationship with his Templar because he was just that sort of person. But there were three royals in the room, three that rose above the Scion title--they were referred to the titles they had at birth because they were different. He'd argue he had a leg up on the two princesses as well, being a high prince. He was already superior to everyone else in this kingdom.

But he guessed that this dude was trying to be helpful or something. 'My' Zacharie, he had said. That was weird. Was it normal for Scions to shack up with their Templars? As he looked at the various pairings, he supposed he could see it with some of them, large age gaps notwithstanding. Unless Princess Rosaria over there had some kind of grandfather thing he wasn't aware of. Was that why she was pissed at him? That sounded like something he would imply, but he wasn't entirely sure.

He realized his thoughts were getting haphazard, forcing himself to focus up. Yeah, this conversation was likely going to bore the shit out of him, but better a softball, boring conversation than one that required effort. What did he say again? That he needed to assert his dominance over Tyler with magic? The bastard had four years of experience on him, how the fuck was he supposed to catch up to that? "I've had this power for two weeks," Lucas reminded him, raising an eyebrow. "Even Theodore needed some practice, and he was better at receiving prophecies than using his magic."

The thought soured Lucas further. He couldn't say the same; the few visions he received were hazy, made him sick, and he was pretty sure they were intentionally trying to give him a heart attack. If he was being completely honest with himself, he felt like Incepta was upset that he was the Scion of Time. But if She didn't want him, why the fuck did She pick him?

The tiny clicking of Rosemary's shoes caught his attention, and he managed to bend down and pick her up by her waist. She gave him a small giggle, kicking her feet around like she was still running.

"You're going to trip, get hurt, and then cause a ruckus," Lucas warned her.

"A ruckus," She repeated, bursting into giggles despite him giving her a deadpan look. He placed her back down, and to his surprise, she remained in place. She tugged his sleeve despite the fact that he was still looking at her. "Do you think he remembers me?" She asked him, pointing at Tyler.

"Dunno. Go ask him."

She hesitated, rocking on her heels. "Can you ask him for me?"

Lucas looked like he was losing what little patience he already had, but he knelt down to meet her at eye level. "Just ask him. He's not going to get mad at you or anything."

"...no." She declined, choosing to continue her race against no one and running off.

Lucas rolled his eyes, turning back to his fellow Scion. He knew Rosemary was going to be as weird as ever, but something this guy said suddenly clicked in his mind. "And what purpose do you believe Incepta had choosing a little girl as a Scion?" He suddenly asked, crossing his arms. "Veradis works differently than other countries, you know. The Scion of Light is the one who rules the principality. So Rosemary's not just a princess, but a ruler once she comes of age. Her great-grandfather got to have some semblance of a normal life before his own holy sigil appearing at fourteen. So why is Rosemary destined to carry that burden that has been chosen for her since the tender age of two years old?"

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@Olive Fontaine

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

This was going to be a long night.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lucas let out a long, quiet exhale. The pressure in his head was building up quicker than expected and he was pretty sure a nasty headache was coming. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home and lie down. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible; he was pretty sure if he just collapsed, they'd just have some priests drag him along and hold up his unconscious body. The Millenial Ceremony was going to take about an hour, followed by the sermon, then there was whatever crap the high cardinal would speak of, then his own debut, then the after party where he was going to have to get swarmed by a multitude of people expressing shock that he was Theo's inheritor.

Lucas dropped his hand and straightened up, relegating himself to just watching everyone. He didn't feel sociable on a good day, let alone now, so he figured he'd let his reputation keep most away and he could just lean on a wall counting down the minutes until he could sit down. He accidentally made eye contact with the Rosarian princess, not missing that she was glaring daggers at him. He threw her a wink, getting a little too much satisfaction out of her huffing and turning away from him. What'd he do to piss this one off again? He couldn't for the life of him remember, but unfortunately, his plan to stand around and do nothing was interrupted because Incepta was determined to make sure every single day of his Scionhood was one eternal headache.

The one that had boldy approached him was...the Scion of Shadow, if he recalled correctly. Lucas actually hadn't had a lot of interactions with a majority of the Scions or Templars here sans Tyler--and outside of Theo, he couldn't even say he really knew Tyler all that well, either. This one was Kaspar Mirandola, if he remembered right. He had a good eye for mana, it seemed. Or was he just kissing his ass? Yeah, Lucas was tired, he was usually better at ascertaining this sort of thing.

He watched Tyler interact with...fuck, what was her name again? Mary? It was on the tip of his tongue. Oh well, it wasn't important right this second. He looked back at Kaspar instead, figuring now was as good a time as ever to make some attempt at socializing and praying he wasn't going to have any conversations that required thought or effort. No, too much effort, he was going to have to gauge whether the guy was worth it.

"I've been known to leave people walking in pain after I'm done with them," He replied casually. "Morris is experienced, already has a handle on his magic, and was cleared of any wrongdoings. I'm already looking forward to breaking him in."

If the guy didn't go running for the hills after that, then he'd consider a full conversation.

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@Olive Fontaine

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Bianca liked being busy. It meant she was able to use her skills and pass the time in fruitful ways--security detail, making sure Justinian didn't cook up any new escape routes, taking steps to ensure that the day's schedule was followed to the letter. She lived for that sort of stuff, loving the feeling of having a day of accomplishment and going to bed satisfied. She was actually looking forward to the festival, and even if she couldn't participate in celebrating with the other commoners, it was still nice to play her part and admire the citizenry from afar. After all, her duty came above her own personal desires, and her charge did a phenomenal job at keeping her on her toes.

So today he surprised her. Sure, there was the occasional glare and comment, but it was a lot more tame than what she expected. His apologies made it clear that he was feeling a lot of things today. The replacement of a Scion wasn't exactly new, but Theodore Estora's circumstances had been different. The man had disappeared and was presumably murdered, it wasn't exactly an elder passing away peacefully like a majority of Scions did in modern times. That alone was enough to disturb any good person, but Justinian likely felt more sorrowful over the loss of someone he probably saw as a friend. Incepta knew how many times she had to physically stop him from making some hairbrained attempt at searching for Theodore when it was announced he had gone missing.

That said, the blessing ceremony had always fascinated her. It was common knowledge that Scions blessed their Templars, but it was never truly the same. Every Scion was different, every Templar was different, and each one had their own power, their own motivation. She wondered if Sir Tyler felt some kind of way since it was the second time he was going through it. The thought made her sad; she hoped it wasn't too difficult for him. Well, at least he was back in the Templar group chat, maybe she could reach out at some point to see how he was handling everything. Or was that too condescending of her?

Justinian didn't seem impressed with the new Scion of Time. Not that Bianca blamed him--she had heard nothing good about the prince. He was notoriously rude and a womanizer, which often confused her because weren't most womanizers charming? He seemed cold and uncaring, and she felt that he saw himself above them, contrary to how humble Scions should be. She couldn't help but frown--regardless of Sir Tyler's failure, having such a charge was arguably more punishing than just being dismissed.

At his question, she shrugged. "I think that Sir Tyler will have his work cut out for him," She admitted quietly. "They make an interesting duo." It wasn't really kind to say as much, but she was sincerely worried for the pair.

She did, however, shake her head at Justinian's suggestion of a cheat day. She didn't get to look as good as she did eating sweets, that was for sure. "There will be plenty to gorge on once we get an actual meal, Your Holiness," She reminded him gently. "And yes, Dame Ionna is certainly...unique." Oh dear, that was the second time she was making insinuations, she really needed to be more careful.

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@Raijinslayer