The King of History hovered in the clouds far above the small town below him. His presence was undetectable in the Ocean, its Historical influence erased from the world. All that remained to record his place in it was his own first-hand account, staring at the townspeople going about their day.
It had been a long week since the loop had been broken, and after much investigation, Felix finally discovered what had triggered it. Assassins.
A pair of Lords had conspired with some foreign Mages to stage an assassination on him and they had known of his last resort, preparing accordingly. Every attempted 'loop' that would bring him closer to safety was sabotaged through means he hadn't yet discerned, destroying his memories in the transfer and rendering the loop practically useless. All that remained was the knowledge he had indeed travelled back in time. The Lords would soon be made to talk however, about how they had accomplished such a feat on the strongest living Monarch, and who exactly they had collaborated with.
Still, something rested heavy on his mind. Felix hadn't gotten to where he was today without surviving an attack or several hundred, so it certainly wasn't that. It was this damned town: Triesen.
Why, out of all possible routes he could've taken, was this the one that saved him? The instant he had even committed to heading towards the town, Felix had been rescued. Not even travelling to it, simply committing. Of course, when he did inevitably head to the town that day, Felix detected the assassins in time and apprehended them. What was it about this place then that caused them to slip up? These assassins were no mere amateurs, and a simple change of scenery shouldn't have thrown them off. What was it then?
As Felix scanned his senses up and down the town, investigating every nook and cranny, he came up with nothing. Other than the harmless stray in the farm over there, and the few enforcers still hanging about, there was nothing magical about this town. It was utterly mundane.
The forest down the way, on the other hand? Definitely not the same case. It was brimming with mana beasts and monsters, prowling about even during the day, laying previously dormant squabbles and disputes to rest. Why? Latching onto that strange piece of information - gathered from the scan - his Historical intuition honed in on the past and discovered its source. There had been some strange inciting event some time ago that disrupted the careful balance among the forest's populace and invited intruders upon their land. And then his analysis hit a wall.
Severe magical interference, something that had rippled through and disrupted the entire local Mana Ocean of the town and more. Pushing more mana and more of his considerable focus into the working, Felix traced even that disturbance to its source. A seemingly ordinary part of the forest no different to any other; only, that was at first glance. His Historical intuition told a different story. One of grand importance, a sign of cascading change, and a hint of utter terror.
The King of History was unperturbed. Felix pushed through that barrier and the Magick affecting his thoughts - detected the instant it targeted him - broke away. That part of the forest was ordinary no more, a clearing taking its place, one that, at its centre, held a majestic Mage Tower, weathered and ancient.
An obelisk dating back beyond the Mage Wars, a testament to what once was, his intuition revealed to him, as if reading a historical record. A tomb for a terrible secret, one only recently unearthed, and one only recently resealed. For the secret was not a burden its bearer could carry. Not alone.
His focus lingered on that last trace of information for only a short while before moving along, striking directly at the heart of the matter. Felix slipped past the haphazardly put-together barrier around the Tower and floated down onto a central-seeming balcony, not too weathered compared to others around it. In the centre of the room it led to was a coffin, pried open with its lid laid carelessly aside of it. And despite its lack of body, the King of History felt the weight of what had been laid to rest there. This was someone beyond influence, whose impact on the world could not be summarised by mere words. And yet, for someone so profoundly powerful, Felix could not say who this person was. Almost as if...
Felix let out a sudden gasp, as a fresh possibility crossed his mind, one that hadn't been thought over for a very long time.
"But, it couldn't be-" He couldn't help but say out loud, almost as if to check his own sanity.
"...The Forgetting?"
* * *
Amy scrolled through the pages of her FPG as she rested in her bed, covered in many layers of blankets. Her meeting with Beatrice was only an hour or so away but she still hadn't completely recovered from her experience with those... things a couple days prior. In the meantime, between recovery and practising various Spells through and through, she had been looking for the last part of her Spell list for the heist: Luck Spells. Unlike what she had expected, there were quite a number of them in the FPG as well, so much so that she was having difficulty choosing between some of them. With her pool feeling as stressed as it was, she had limited herself to Mageling-Tier Spells only which shortened the selection somewhat, but choices were still to be had.
The first on her list was the simplest, and one she was leaning towards choosing. Coin Flip.
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Tier 1 - Coin Flip
Brief - Bestow a tiny amount of good or bad luck depending on a coin flip.
MTR-Mana Cost - (Medium)
Attunement Difficulty - (See Details?)
Range ~ (Self)
Description:
Before flipping a coin, cast this Spell and predict a result. If your prediction of the coin
flip is correct, bestow a tiny amount of good luck upon oneself. If it is wrong, bestow
a tiny amount of bad luck upon oneself instead.
Casting Details:
Elements - Luck
Elemental Affinity - (Not Tested)
Previously Casted - No
Spellform - VIEW
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The Spell was a complete gamble, but it was far superior to others like it in the same bracket. If this was the only Spell she had access to, then she might not have even considered it. In the context of another, such as Tilt, then it became a bit more attractive.
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Tier 2 - Tilt
Brief - Tilt the scales of favour towards your end.
MTR-Mana Cost - (Massive)
Attunement Difficulty - (See Details?)
Range ~ (Self)
Description:
Sacrifice an item of your choice and tilt the scales of favour towards your end, enhancing
your luck by an amount proportional to its worth, whether that be monetary or
sentimental. However, regardless of the worth of the sacrificed item, the bestowed luck is
capped at a medium amount due to the Spell's Tier.
Casting Details:
Elements - Luck
Elemental Affinity - (Not Tested)
Previously Casted - No
Spellform - VIEW
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_______________________________________________________________________________
It seems a common theme with all Luck Spells, at least at lower Tiers, is a need for balance. Coin Flip can be beneficial but it must be balanced out with a chance for misfortune. And because Tilt lacks an in-built chance for failure, it demands both high mana costs and a physical sacrifice - a detriment, Amy thought over, scrunching her brow. Just take Lucky Bolt, for example. Doesn't do anything as a Bolt, and instead either bestows a miniscule amount of good or bad luck upon its target. Imagine that. Attacking your opponent with a Bolt and actually helping them instead! Plus, the mana cost is significantly higher than Coin Flip, even if they're both relative to an average Mageling's mana pool. To me, both would be small costs, one only slightly larger than the other. At the end of the day, I think Coin Flip is the best of the bunch. Let's see about trying it out then.
Viewing the Spellform, Amy memorised the image, its simplicity a nice break from the sometimes overwhelming complexities of the higher Tier Spells she'd been recently dabbling in. The only point of contention after that was the Magecraft. Even that, however, she had an idea about how to do it.
Her mana pool whirling, coalescing mana from the Ocean around her, Amy's mind went to that same theatre of life. Unlike her recent times here, she did not make the dancer the Witch, and instead focused on the audience. There, while the dancer acted out a grand pantomime, the audience called out here and there, the universe aiding the dance in times of strife and admonishing her in success. Their favour was fickle, and the dancer was a victim to their whims. A simple visualisation, but very effective.
As Amy returned to reality, the mana swirling around her pool was shining a brilliant gold, the hue of Elemental Luck. Inside the eddies of those surging mana currents, hints of black and white roiled, misfortune and fortune alike swimming within those yellow depths. It flowed effortlessly out her pool and followed her arm to where the Spellform was already waiting in in the air, constructed in less than a second out of her innate mana. The liquid gold filled every contour and line of the Spellform, and soon the Magick had finally started forming. The circular Spellform shrank down towards her hand, filling out in colour, remaining completely gold. On one side of the round, imprinted on the Spellform, was Amy's own face, hidden by a hood. And on the other, was a set of scales, shifting back and forth as the angle she looked at it changed with its floating.
Settling on her open palm was a gold coin.
"Tails," Amy called out, fiddling with the coin so it sat above her thumb. Then, she flipped it.
Up in the air did the coin spin and flip, so fast it didn't quite seem real. At the summit of its arc, Amy almost thought she could see the image of that set of scales flash on the coin when it slowed, as if her prediction was now set in stone. That brief clarity of sight ceased when it began falling down once more, as Amy - with her enhanced sight - could see the faces of the coin melt away, each side becoming indistinguishable to the other. It landed firmly on her open hand before being flipped over once more, slapping it down onto the top of the other, its result hidden.
Cautiously, Amy slid her hand away, its revelation revealed. Imprinted on the golden coin's open side was a face; her own. It was Heads.
That hooded face morphed to frown, the entire image seeming to darken with it almost like it had been covered with shadow. With a click in the mana sounding out, the coin disintegrated into a golden mist, already dissipating as the Luck deaspected back to Pure.
"Damnit," Amy cursed. Guess it's bad luck for me.
* * *
"So- Who think's this 'mage' is bullshit?"
Brook turned to Tod as he spouted more of his dishonest drivel. He had gotten worse lately since Beatrice announced that her retirement was coming soon. Was it in a bid to eventually get a higher position for his faction when she passed on the torch? Or to steal the position for himself? That sort of politicking wasn't for Brook though. He was a simple man. He kept the trainees in line, and taught them well. Kept them off the streets, and kept them fed. For what Beatrice had done for him years ago, it was the least he could do. And what he'd continue to do, even if Tod makes the bid he seems to be setting up for.
"What do you mean, Tod?" Harris leaned in from the side, the large man barely able to fit on the box he was sitting on.
"We all know how Bea is," Tod said, disrespecting Beatrice yet again. He should know that she doesn't like him shortening her name. Scum. "We all know how she gets her hopes up about her retirement 'plan'-"
"Shut your mouth Tod; nobody wants to hear your shit," Mina spat, cuffing the brat in the back of the head. The gap in her lip always did make her seem more intimidating than her height implied. And when she snarled at you... Brook shook those thoughts away, refusing to look at the both of them.
"Ow!" The spindly little shit exclaimed, rubbing where Mina had hit him, glaring back at her. "What was that for?"
"You know what it was for," Mina strode off to lean against the brick basement wall.
"It-! It was what we were all thinking, wasn't it?" Tod pleaded, making that same sorry face he always used with Beatrice. It always got him off easy when it was used against her... but Brook?
"No, Tod, it wasn't," Brook scowled, finally having enough. "Just do what we were all doing before this; shut up, and wait for Beatrice to return."
"Will she?" Tod fought back. Just because Brook was quiet he thought him an easy target for his prattling. "What if this scary 'mage' does her in?"
"She wouldn't let that happen," Brook said. "As you said, we know how she is."
"Personally," Tod moved on without a care, ignoring him once more. If he wants it that way... so be it. "I think she's being fooled!"
"Of course you would," Mina muttered under her breath, nobody noticing. Except Brook. He always listened.
"This 'mage' might be a swindler! And with Bea not in her right mind about the whole thing, she might ignore some of his... mistakes!" Tod smiled wide, pausing as he struggled to find the last word. He always did that. Looking for a word to make him sound more sophisticated than he was. And, as always, failing.
"Really. Beatrice, of all people, would fall for a scam?" Harris frowned, looking at Tod askance.
"You never know! Even the best of us do so from time to time. And have you heard about-"
Tod's poisonous words were cut thankfully short when a knocking resounded from the main door. The four of them had been sitting in this small dingy basement, their meeting place for Gods knows how many years, for almost half an hour since Beatrice went off to collect her 'mage'. Although Brook would never admit it, even he was sceptical of the person she had chosen. Not enough to doubt Beatrice's ability, but certainly to judge his person. Beatrice often trusted too much, a lovely trait of hers Brook would never want her to lose. That same trait had saved him and everyone here, after all. But sometimes Brook wished it was the opposite. So that she would be burned less often.
The knocking was the same pattern they had discussed prior to the meeting, six individual knocks in a random pattern decided upon the day before. Not that they doubted it wasn't her, but it's never too careful to be sure.
Mina, already up and about where Brook and the others were sitting down, walked up and opened the door. And, behind it, was just Beatrice. No Mage.
"Beatrice? I thought you were getting the Mage?" Mina couldn't help but ask, making a concerned face. Her question remained unanswered as she was pushed past, the door closing strangely behind her as Beatrice made her way into the centre of the room, looking carefully at each and every one of them. Taking their measure. Calculating. Always. It was only after an uncomfortable amount of time did she speak up once more, not even Tod brave enough to interrupt her.
"Yes," She finally spoke, her expression pale - maybe even scared, "I have."
"...Then where-" Tod tried to voice his complaints when it appeared.
An obelisk of viscous void stood in the centre of the basement, standing side-by-side with Beatrice. Brilliant darkness sloughed off of the pillar, spreading its grim influence across the basement floor like a polluting fog. It had been standing there silent, for Gods knows how long, unnoticed and undetected by everyone in the room. They were all masters of their craft, no matter how slimy Tod was, and they would've noticed if anything had snuck in, let alone something like that. Yet here it was, in plain view. And they hadn't noticed it.
Its face was barely visible underneath the darkness, but what peaked through was terrifying beyond words. That pale skin, gentle and fragile, conveyed an ephemeral sense of irresistible beauty, a morbid curiosity to reach out and touch that which was perfect. Brook didn't even notice himself leaning inwards, trying to catch a glimpse of more of the thing's face, even as everything sensible screamed at him to run, when he finally saw her.
The envoy of death that had stepped into their home was a mesmerising woman, looking almost as young as themselves. Only nothing about this lady was ordinary. Her face cracked and rotted in parts and Brook could swear he could see maggots crawling in and out of her monstrous visage. Her purple eyes pierced through his very soul as he couldn't help but be dragged further into her endless abyss. This wasn't a Mage. This was a demon. And she had come to tempt them all to their dooms.
"Why... Hello." The demon spoke, its voice as tantalising as its appearance. A hand slipped out from its cloak as it waved its fingers in an odd flowing pattern, long and slender yet strangely... different from how its face appeared. As if more than one person rested beneath the darkness. Demon. "I don't believe Beatrice had me introduced. In that case... you may call me the Witch."
