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A lone figure crouched at the shore's edge as the cold rays of dawn
spread their wistful fingers across the world. Fingers, a single hand,
reached out from an ever-protective cloak; they dipped into the crisp
water, savoring the tingling the near-frozen water elicited from shocked
nerves. The fingers lingered, drawing lazy circles in the watery
ripples from first contact. The figure uttered foreign, arcane words,
and reached up with its free hand to pull back the hood of shrouded
identity.
The girl peered intently into the water, now muttering, now chanting,
now humming, the words and notes of a song only she could hear. Fish
swam to the shore, and she touched them, petting them as if they were a
dog or cat. The cadence of her chant changed and the fish fled, seeking
escape from the darker forms of life being called. Far from the beach,
fins protruded from the water. The sharks approached as near to the
shore as they were able, and began to thrash wildly. Slimy red crept to
the shore with the few survivors of the primal sea battle.
She nodded her head in detached approval. The sharks had obeyed her
summons, as had the fish she had called to feed them. Her deep orange
eyes gleamed brilliantly in the growing sunlight. The time was almost
ripe. She stood and heedlessly walked further on down the shore.
"Where's Anais?" asked Czeron. "She wasn't present at breakfast this
morning," he directed to his friend Saet. "You haven't seen her around,
have you?"
"No, I haven't seen her since before the morning ritual. She looked
preoccupied for its duration. When it was over, she left, and I haven't
seen her since. Why do you ask?" Saet replied.
"I noticed her preoccupation as well, and I worried for her. I merely
wondered if you had any idea where she was," supplied Czeron. His words
hid a despairing tinge behind them, but Saet did not respond. The two
walked down the winding maze of Ceros Draio's corridors. Ceros Draio
was a large complex built years ago by the Order of the Blood, of which
Czeron and Saet were members.
The Order of the Blood was not an evil organization, but neither was it
solely an organization for pureness and good. In its early days, Ceros
Draio himself led the Order. In time though, Ceros died, and its focus
turned from chaos and murder to the expansion of arcane knowledge, and
had succeeded at this self-mutated task for its long duration.
The two young men entered the Cathedral of Blood, a large enclosure
within Ceros Draio, named for its dark red walls of rock. Large,
translucent sheets would let the sky's light in through the arches far
above while keeping the weather out, forcing the walls to reflect a red
tinge on everything in the Cathedral. A large group of their brethren
milled around, waiting for the hastily called meeting to begin. Czeron
and Saet strode over to join them.
Czeron lacked the tallness of his companion, and his wisdom-filled eyes
fit imperfectly with his youthful appearance. At the age of
twenty-seven, he was new to the Order, but he had expanded his intellect
greatly in the three short years he had lived there. Czeron could look
into the future, witness events and predict outcomes of differing
actions, and his choice in coming to the Order merely helped fulfill one
of his more potent visions.
Visions stalked him in the night, telling him of what would be. He
joined the Order of the Blood because he knew it would be the end of
him. He walked in pre-determined steps. His life was not his to live,
but his to fear, to dread. No choices were left to him; all he had was
the faint vision of a better future that would exist only without him.
This vision made it difficult for him to look forward with any hope for
himself, but it also freed him of the responsibility he had for his own
life. No longer did he care what happened to him, for he knew
that he would survive anything until his pre-ordained fate claimed him.
On the other hand, Saet was a seasoned veteran of battle; pockmarks and
scars covered his face. He was an adept green mage, his skills tended
to using the land for power, converting the very plants and animals for
his protection. A ranger as well, his aid to the Order had proven handy
on more than one occasion. Armor of thorns adorned his battle-hardened,
muscular body. In his late forties, he currently served as a military
advisor for the random engagements that seeped through the protective
hills surrounding Ceros Draio, attempting to destroy the Order of the
Blood. None had yet succeeded.
The cautious murmurs of the assembled crowd grew dim. A tall man
imposed his presence above all. Upon his head rested a headdress of
living flame, sucking the air from those nearby. His robes flowed in
all directions, alive, burning as the headdress, flitting around
chaotically. His eyes dripped blood. It was Ceros Draio himself, his
spiritual summoning accomplished. The followers of Ceros Draio also
controlled him.
In life, Ceros Draio had dedicated himself to his art, to his power.
He had been a planeswalker, a mighty being spoken of only in hushed
whispers. Wherever he had gone, suffering, violence, death, and chaos
followed him. His peerless thirst for blood had never been satiated.
With his summoning, it cost the Order of the Blood its most devout
follower's life. It took nothing less than blood to bring the master to
bear.
Czeron's eyes widened. He'd never seen the summoning of Ceros before.
Upon an onulet, a follower placed himself. A dagger covered with brown,
crusty blood would be handed to him by an apprentice mage. Then, the
follower would chant the words of summoning before slitting his throat.
As the lifeless hand dropped to the floor, the same apprentice would
pick up the dropped dagger. From the freshly drawn blood of the corpse
would rise the shade of Ceros Draio, returning to the earth once more as
one of his followers left it.
The apprentice stepped forward in front of Ceros and spoke.
"Brothers and Sisters of the Order, you have been called here because
the Shard has collapsed. Ceros Draio, our master, wished to have words
with us."
Murmurs of outrage and fear swept through the crowd at this dread
pronouncement. The Shard kept the world of Edor isolated from the rest
of the multiverse, and the planeswalkers who would plunder its unused
energies. That the Shard had collapsed was impossible; that Ceros
wished to speak with them was unthinkable.
The apprentice stepped down, and Ceros began to speak. The shade's
black eyes stared coldly at its attentive audience. Thin, sunken cheeks
served as troughs for the blood dripping from his unseeing eyes. Ceros'
head turned, and he rose above the Order.
"Sons and Daughters," Ceros began, his voice echoing within itself.
"You have been betrayed by your own Sister. She hides even now in your
midst. The Shard is gone now because of her, and no longer will I be
able to maintain the energies that tie me to this world." Members of
the Order, shocked further by this revelation began asking questions,
making requests.
"Where will you go?"
"What will we do?"
"Why would you leave us?"
"Take me with you, so that I may learn of your powers!"
"Smite the heretic, mighty Ceros, that all shall learn by your example
of your righteousness and power!"
Fear for the future of the Order became the dictate of the day. The
blood of Ceros dripped upon the corpse of his summoner. Silence
overtook those gathered, and they awaited Ceros' next statements. The
statements never came. Ceros did the unexpected.
The apprentice standing nearby stiffened as Ceros turned his gaze
toward him. Eyes locked, one pair unseeing, the other dreading.
Stiffening, the apprentice gasped a choked cry. Ceros disappeared. The
apprentice opened his eyes, his cold, black eyes. The lich lived again.
"Isn't it wonderful, Czeron? Ceros choosing to live among us instead
of finding eternal peace! Pity about Arsea though. His death means
that the Master can live once more!" Anais said. She had returned from
the resurrection with Czeron and Saet to Czeron's hillside home. Anais
had received the summons to the assembly earlier and was already there
before the other two had arrived. Saet returned to his dwelling without
the two of them.
Anais and Czeron were to be wedded according to the customs of the
Order of the Blood, that is, to mend their two disparate spirits into
one. Czeron knew that their marriage would be a short one, another
reminder of the curse of prescience he suffered.
Czeron did not reply immediately to his beloved's question. He instead
looked around at the walls, to the Zelyon sword he had inherited from
his grandfather, to the Ring of Immortals he had discovered deep in the
vaults of the Order. He had taken it without the knowledge of the
general populace, and without the blessing of the higher members. They
were tokens merely, items that reminded him of his planeswalker
ancestry, and taunted him with the fact that he would never be a
planeswalker himself. His fledgling prescience and his affinity for
birds were the only consolation he received from his powerful heritage.
"Love," he said. "Could you not see it in his eyes? Do you not
question his motives? Why would Ceros return now if he could
have returned at any other time? He hides something."
"You don't have faith in our master?" she replied.
"Should I? He was at best a monster full of blood-lust. The Order
long ago turned from its old ways. What we are now and what he was and
now is are two different things. He still craves blood, and we worship
an idealized god that has returned to us in all the truthfulness of his
being, truthfulness we have blinded ourselves to. I fear our "Master."
"Czer, what have the visions shown you? What will he do that can be so
bad? Now he has form again in our world! He can lead us as he would
have if we hadn't turned from his ways. Don't you feel awed in
his presence?
"I...I don't know. No. Just...just be wary, okay?" Czeron answered.
He turned his back to his fiancé and looked stoically out a window into
the valley below. Lost in his own thoughts, he had more visions.
Czeron awoke when the sun was halfway to its zenith. Anais was nowhere
to be found. He had slept past the morning ritual, and it was time for
the late-morning mental control session. Czeron put on his clothes and
walked into the mazes of Ceros Draio.
He'd stayed up late that night, trying to disprove the visions he saw
with his mind. Visions of a man who was dead that lived. This was
Ceros, he knew now. The Cathedral of Blood he saw collapsing, shattered
by a great magic. He saw...it was other visions he could not come to
accept. His marriage's end. His death. His wife-to-be's death.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Saet catch up to him and walk
beside him.
"Czer," Saet began.
Czeron started. So lost was he in his mind that the simple statement
of his name caught him off guard. He glowered, and lowered his eyes to
the ground.
"More visions, Czer?" asked Saet. Czeron nodded. "Your visions are
controlling your life, my friend. Don't let them. It's ruining your
relationship with Anais, and it's ruining your friendship with me."
"I can't help it old friend. What the visions show me is that a
terrible time is coming, very soon, and the Order will be at the heart
of it. The second coming of Ceros is proof of this. I..." Czeron broke
off.
"There was a celestial dawn this morning, Czer." Czeron paled. "It
came with the setting of the blood moon that rose last night with Ceros'
arrival. For the first time I've seen, the Cathedral of Blood's walls
were white. You know something about this?" The last was a statement.
"Yes, it proves that I worry with good reason. Have you seen Anais
this morning?"
"She was at morning ritual, but I haven't seen her since."
The girl's feet plodded through the crashing waves. She knelt next to
a body. Covered in blood, the cascading force of the water washed it
clean. Numerous weals and welts covered the dead woman's body. Ocean
current sucked the body into its depths.
She watched as the body was wrenched away from the sand, watched as it
was caught in the strands and tendrils of sea plants and animals. The
girl peered intently into the water, now muttering, now chanting, now
humming, the words and notes of a song only she could hear. The fish
came again, and tore the body to shreds.
A clammy hand placed itself on her shoulder, brushed along her cheek.
It smoothed back her hair, slowly, calmly. Her orange eyes looked back
at her master.
"You will be the first initiate of my new order, Anais," Ceros Draio
said. "You are ready for the power."
Steam and mist flowed from the ocean, and shrouded the two from sight.