[Shards of Immortality] The Prologue

[Arion Wind]

----- Asayal Kham -----

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----- The Driving Rain -----

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----- Location: The Great Hall -----


Not alive for a full hour and already they were falling into power struggles. Is it any wonder that the Tower fell without the leadership of the Overlord to unite these . . . children? But if so, they were children with a point. The Tower needed to be secured and more reliable intelligence gained. And if things did come to a head, well, it wouldn't hurt if he knew something, however small, to keep the Harvester of Souls from rising to the top of the pile.


Asayal stands and checks both his bow and the few marginally intact arrows he found on his way down to the Hall. Poor tools, but better than nothing. "I've little patience for stealth, but I can ensure the Tower is safe and clear." What's left of it, anyway. A look at the tattered furnishings and diminished shadows of the Generals he once knew left him little hope of any pleasant surprises, but he had failed in his duty once and had no plans to sit idly by when he could be making up for his mistakes.

 

[Captain Hesperus]

----- MESHEVEREN AMILARD -----

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----- Vizier Of Infernal Affairs -----

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----- Location: Great Hall -----


Amilard watched the bickering and snapping of the other Generals, absorbing the knowledge they blurted out without thought of how they could have used it for in the future. One thing was looking up at least, they were all weakened in the same way it was. How simple they looked, weakened by the, what, half millennium of absence? How vulnerable, like the shivering Nymph in the corner and the boy-runt acting as if he had any standing or authority amongst his elders and betters. If it had felt the need it would have laughed. There did seem to be some shifting of power. The Necromancer was acting as a leader, that wasted sack of bones and slough-skin seated in his chair as if it were his own, drinking what most likely was rotten vinegar simply to repulse the others. Mesheveren had supped on Nether-grown wines, now they were revolting, all sulfur and blood. Only a brave soul and one with infernal blood running through its veins could stomach the brew, let alone survive it. But yet, Mesheveren felt vulnerable. While its powers were still returning, it felt heavy, lumpen and feeble. Perhaps it would be wiser to ally itself with one of the stronger-looking Generals, just til its power fully restored, then? Then it would decide what to do with its 'allies'. It decided to step into the foray.


"While my prowess in the hunt would be invaluable and most likely to glean a fine feast from the beasts that lurk beyond these walls, I feel my talents are best served in more cerebral matters, thus I shall lead these others in a search of the Tower. Once I have discerned if the Orrery is fully functional, I shall determine the correct time in which we are all resurrected, and then I shall seek out the libraries I kept, so that my powers shall replenish all the more quickly."


With that, it reversed its grip upon the sword in its right hand and strolled in the direction of stairs that lead to the Orrery. As it walked, it whistled cheerily, the sound of its piercing notes echoing off the walls and out through the broken ceiling.

 

[WlfSamurai]

----- Rygal Therren -----

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----- Honorable Legionaire -----

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----- Location: Great Hall -----


And it begins... was all Rygal could think. As with any force on the battlefield, strength came from numbers. If the Generals put aside their differences, they could accomplish anything, Father or no. At least it seemed that's what they were doing for the time being.


Standing, the Honorable Legionaire adds his voice again. "That puts me squarely in the Tower search party. Do we have a time frame to meet back here and discuss our findings?"

 

[Myllinnia]

----- Xi'Tairi -----

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----- Black Wings of Passions -----

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----- Location: The Great Hall (Outside)-----

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Xi'Tairi stood outside of the Great Hall listening to the talk inside. The news was grim, and they were already fracturing, power struggles... Just like men to squabble about such things. Sighing softly to herself she enters the Great Hall and gives her fellows a bow. Naked and all, she had yet to actually go to her room though she didn't mind being naked... after all, at least she thought, she had died naked. It would be embarrassing to mention this to anyone, but she bet they all remembered her love of being this way.


"Hello, my fellow Generals... Did I hear that people were gathering search parties, to search? If you desire my help," and who wouldn't, "I'll be happy to go. A trip to the the Orrery might be fun."

 

[ghoti115]

----- Konrad Cronhielm -----

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-----Arrow from the Shadows-----

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----- Location: The Great Hall-----


Konrad quickly places the uniform back into his satchel and says to Tyhria, "The offer still stands incase you change your mind."


He turns to Lark as he approaches, "We certainly won't mind assistance from anyone in finding food and water. It's always good to have an extra set of eyes or hands to help out. And with our numbers growing by the minute, we will need any supplies we can obtain."


Since the others interested in procuring food seem to be listening to him, Konrad attempts to keep his converstation separate from the bickering at the far end of the table. While he is interested in the plan to look for other Generals, he is committed to the Hunting party. "Tyhria, you said that you had made your way through the forest to reach the Tower. Did you notice any place we should start looking for food or water? Anything you share about the forest would be useful."

 

[Captain Hesperus]

----- MESHEVEREN AMILARD -----

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----- Vizier Of Infernal Affairs -----

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----- Location: Great Hall -----


Mesheveren cast its eye across the newly arrived Teifling. It remembered her, Xi'Tairi. A sister in heritage, she was feeble of body and her mind was a poor tool as well. But she used her body and her voice to get what she wanted, and it remembered that she was very good at that. She was likely to be a useful ally, if it could turn her powers to its advantage, it could point her at the other weakened Generals and push its own agenda. It did not want to see any one General take over as a replacement of the Overlord, that would be disastrous. The only thing that would result in one of the others taking over would be a potentially fatal purge of those who were not seen as loyal to the new Overlord. If that happened, then the Immortal Legion would fall apart and there would be no return to the glory of their dominion.


"Sister, welcome back to the fold.", it smiled, the false spatter of emotion easy to falsify, "I suggest we go and seek to return before the sun touches the peaks of the western mountains."


The bear-Pantheon. A useful ally, a loyal ally, one that could be used as a shield to defend with and a weapon to slay with. It shares Rygal's sense of attachment to the Overlord and it decided that it would support him, just so long as he could be useful of course.


Valdraccus was also loyal. To the Overlord, if not to his fellow Generals. Asayal, also a 'loyalist', wants join the Tower search. For a Nymph, he'd always show more restraint than his kind were known for. He could be trusted only so long as he was not swayed by those who would seize power for themselves. Some other Nymphs, Larkspur and Tyhria, were clustered together with the boy, planning to 'hunt' and 'forage', but while they were out in the forest, all alone, who could know what they might conspire about. Pretium was trying to take charge, forcing others to conform with his ideas, giving commands as if the Overlord had granted him the authority himself. Meshereven would sooner die than follow anything more than a suggestion from an equal. For the time being, it was firmly in Valdraccus' camp.

 

[Grey]

----- Mordechai Selanmere -----

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-----Father of Monsters -----

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----- Location: The Great Hall -----

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As the other Generals discuss plans, Mordechai sits and ponders. Without his powers, he's reminded just how much he remains the peasant craftsman compared to these sorcerers, demons, and demigods..

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"I think, until I have my powers back, we're best served if I wait here. In case anyone else wakes up, and to tend to any wounded who come back. I'll search the infirmary for the proper tools."

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[Thorn Darkblade]

----- Valdraccus -----


-----The Harvester of Souls -----


----- Location: The Great Hall -----


"Ah, yes, the wounded...it is hard to grasp, isn't it? The fact we have lost much of our strength..."


He started to walk towards the stairs.


"Very well then, let's not waste any more time. We are all capable individuals, and I believe the scouting party and the tower search team will be able to organize themselves just fine. The Orrery awaits me, now..."

 

[The Wanderer]

#815dde]----- Banelun of Shiverspines -----[/color]

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#815dde]-----The Wandering General -----[/color]

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----- Location: The Armory -----





"Ugh what in the bloody hell?" The overgrown lizard groaned reaching up to rub his dry blood coated hand against his the scales of his forehead. "Blood?" He questioned looking up from his hand to the open hole in the wall the wind blew threw into the chilly old room. "I mussst of been knocked out by the boulder flying through the wall and..." He went quiet as he stood noticing the large blood stain across the floor from where the boulder had crushed him and now found its way nestled into the wall of the armory.


Banelun's eyes drifted towards the many suits of armor and weapons that had filled the room but were currently little more then rusted hunks of metal that had not been treated well by lady nature. "How long have I been dead?" Banelun spoke in his reptilian tone as he slowly climbed to his feet in his ragged pelt attire and slowly lumbered towards the door moving to pull the weathered smooth stone door open.


With a loud clunk the door responded as it gave way along with one of the hings causing it to tip like a drunken sailor and rest against the wall just outside the Armory. "I mussst get to the great hall no doubt that there will be sssome trace of what hasss happened." He mumbled to himself holding his side as he slowly staggered down the broken hallway that led to the Great Hall...eventually...

 

[Pineapple]

----- Lilith Salem -----

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----- The Demoness -----

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----- Location: The Courtyard // The Great Hall -----


Lilith's eyes slowly cracked open, yet she could still see nothing but darkness all around her. She tried to lift her arms up, yet they would not move. She tried to lift her legs, but they would not move either. Golden chains were wrapped and restraining her in place, a golden cross was pushed through the loops of the chains, keeping them together, and Lilith imprisoned. The woman struggled in her chains, bumping into what felt like walls and a roof. Am I in a coffin? Where am I? As she struggled for freedom, she heard an ever familiar voice.


"You have slept quite long, but not is you time to raise!" Lilith knew that voice, it had guided her for years, for as long as she could remember, and not it demanded her to become free. Yes, she would have to force her way to freedom! She began to struggle more and more. the golden cross shacked and struggled with each twist and turn of her body, slowly being knocked out of it's placement. With one last struggle, the cross popped out of it's place, allowing Lilith to slowly peel off all the chains.


her arms and legs were free, and she began to feel around her current location, the surfaces were rough and gritty. She was in no coffin, that was sure... Lilith placed both hands to the stone above her, and pushed as hard as she could. It slowly rose, and kept going until she could toss it aside, allowing her the freedom to finally move, and get out of her current predicament.


She was looking out over a tower, soldiers surrounding it's base, siege weaponry amongst them, and the screams of battle radiating from the tower itself. Yet with just a blink, it was gone, all tat remained was the tower, nothing else. Cautiously she worked her way towards the tower doors, the crunch of rubble and dirt coming from her each and every step. It was definitely the tower she knew well... but wasn't it destroyed? Thoughts drifted through her mind, what was going on here? She had no idea...


As she reached the great doors of the tower, she breathed deeply and pushed the doors open. She could see people walking around, cleaning things, maids? How strange... She examined the nearest maid, and upon closer inspection, she noticed, the maids were unblinking, their faces were a pasty white, they appeared... dead. A slight shiver descended upon her spine, bring her to a shudder. Lilith walked through the crowd and through the tower to what re remembered to be the great hall... if answers were to be found here, the great hall was where she would need to go to.


She arrived at the doors to the great hall, and once she entered through them, there stood a group of people, all engaged in conversation. Perhaps they would know what the hell was going on? Lilith was not sure... "They may know where the Overlord is... Through them you may find him..." However, she didn't have a choice, she had a job to do.

 

[Captain Hesperus]

----- MESHEVEREN AMILARD -----

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----- Vizier Of Infernal Affairs -----

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----- Location: Great Hall -----


Mesheveren paused as it wandered in the direction Valdraccus had moved. It felt a presence. It was coming closer and it felt it in its infernal soul like a shot of strong liqour in its gut. He turned back and saw a slight figure clad in a crimson dress entering through the shattered doors of the Great Hall. The horns that stood proud of her brows betrayed her heritage and it was they that it recognized. It had seen her arrive, so recently, yet so long ago, trailing in the Overlord's shadow like a newborn calf behind a bull. It could not remember her name, only that she was a General, the last that the Overlord had brought into the fold before his disappearance.


An unknown quantity, it thought to itself, but still, gain an ally and deny the foe reinforcements.


"Sister General, hail and well met! It gladdens our hearts to see you restored and returned to us. Would you join us in seeking out the Orrery within the Tower?"

 

[lordofthestorm]

----- Larkspur Wiesel -----

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----- The Angel of Death -----

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Location: The Great Hall

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The thought of supplies made Lark think of food, and almost right at that moment, Lark's stomach quickly spoke to him and everyone present. Lark gave a nervous laugh. "Uh huh, yeah...food...that does beg the question, though. How long have we been out, exactly? I rather doubt this was just some kind of small nap we all just woke up from..."

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Of course, Lark already figured most of them met some kind of egregious end at one point or another, especially considering the circumstances of his own reawakening. It had to be have quite a while ago as well, considering his loyal followers were now skeletal husks in the basement of the Tower.

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[ghoti115]

----- Konrad Cronhielm -----


-----Arrow from the Shadows-----


----- Location: The Great Hall-----


Konrad laughs at the grumbling stomach, finding comfort in the fact that he isn't the only one who was famished. He says to Lark, "I think someone said at least 500 years. Though I heard one of the other Generals say he thought it was 1000." Finding food was still top on his mind, but he enjoyed having someone to talk to after having been dead. "It's odd though, I thought I would be a skeleton if so much time had passed."

 

[The Wanderer]

----- Banelun of Shiverspines -----

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----- The Wandering General ----

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----- Location: The Great Hall -----

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Banelun moved down the hallway and eventually he had made it to the the Great Hall which seemed to be less damaged then other parts of the tower minus the blacken stone from fire spells, weapons embedded in stone from those strange enemies they fought so long ago, and other true signs of battle such as armor fragments. "Its good to sssee that other Generalsss are alive." The Lizard said as he stepped into the Great Hall holding his side that was just sore.

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"Where isss the Overlord?" He questions the other Generals as he slowly scans the small crowd of Generals of all varying branch's. Banelun not yet thinking the Overlord had gone truly he did fill slightly eerie that their was no automatic sense of where the Overlord is and it worried him, not that he let his features show such worries not that he likely could being his people's features usually don't so much in the way of emotion past anger and happiness.

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[The Dark Wizard]

The Prologue will remain open for a few days so players who have just to awaken get a chance to participate from the beginning of the game.


Chapter 1 has begun, those of you going to the forest please head to that thread and those of you looking for the Orrery please head to the other.


Enjoy!


Oh and skits are up !

 

[Knight1]

----- Lucia Isolde -----

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----- The Red Lady -----

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---Hanging Gardens going to the Great hall---


In the ruins of the hanging garden, the ashes still flutter around as the dark colored roses did years before. A dead silence covered this dark place, it's condition could speak volumes of the things that transpired here. Its ominous atmosphere foretold great sorrow but, it was pure. The darkness that once covered this garden was now in the light of the sun. The walkway that held it together and connected it to the tower was almost completely broken, a hazardous place in the tower was all it was now. The lush garden was gone to say the least, it's courtesans of lust that watched over it were gone. The beautiful women of all the different parts of the world and their master were nowhere to be found. Ashes, a broken structure, and a half broken throne remained. The throne was once adorned with the finest materials that would lead to a grand bed that sank into the floor. All had the softest silk from around the world, now it was ruined in the ash and dust of time past. Faint stains of red could be found around the place, once truely dark stain ran from the throne and down to bed. This deep indent in the ground was covered in dust, ash, and you could hear a faint breathing.


As the place's light seemed to fade slowly and the silence died out in nothing but, the sound of a very low breathing. Eventually, the breathing stopped and a hand rose from the ashes that covered the bed so fully. It dragged to the edge where the ground began. The hand seemed dainty and pale in color, as it reached the edge, it grabbed to it. Slowly but, surely it hoisted the rest of the arm and then person connected to it. As she emerged, it was evident she wasn't happy, her face showed a great disdain. She was out and she breathed deeply taking in her first breathe of fresh air in a long time. Her robes were dirty as well as the rest of her, she stood up and sat in her throne for a few moments and reveled in the fact she was alive. She got up and began walking toward the tower and feeling sorrow that her garden was destroyed and her handmaidens were nothing but, ash and red stains along the place. As she entered the tower she looked back at her gardens to see if she had dreamt it all, it was a sad reality she had. She took the nearest door to check if the bath was working, luckily the water was working. As she cleaned herself and her clothing, she felt renewed slightly. As she walked the corridors of the tower and descended down to main hall, she lamented the condition of the tower. She thought to herself, 'Death looks like the same place I lived, only in shambles.'

 

[Tabby]

----- Illyasviel Malzahar -----

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-----The Imperial Hammer -----

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----- Location: The Cathedral -----


Pain was immediate and overwhelming.


Illya jolted awoke with a scream, albeit one that dissolved into a gasping gurgle before it even left her throat. Her entire world was fire, blinding light dazzling her as molten hatred flowed through her veins, an unending tsunami of torment that washed away the calm and quiet of the grave with uncaring loathing.


Above it all rose the crushing pressure in her chest, the irrepressible force as flesh rent and bone was ground to dust. She might have tried to scream again - Illyasviel wasn't exactly sure, but much like the last, it died before even leaving her lungs. All she heard as a keening whine, something that oddly brought to mind the kitten, back when she was fourteen, in the palace, the one that the guard dogs had nearly torn apart, still crawling to her on its two remaining legs, emitting that horrible whimper.


It took some time to realize that the sound was emanating from her this time.


Actual motor control was far beyond her, but desperate to focus her mind, to try to rise above the overwhelming tide of sensation that drowned her mind, Illya found that her head readily enough lolled forwards, hanging limply to her chest. The question of what shape her neeck must be to allow such contortion did not escape her, but the colossal spike of ice erupting from her chest was even harder to ignore - coated in crimson and ivory, her lifeblood and pulverized bone and rent flesh alike, it jutted from her chest like a nightmare given form.


But her body was healing, bubbling flesh and sanguine cruor as her life expended itself warring against the crystallized magic that impaled her. Coagulating blood spilled over the glimmering spire as the force of what followed broke the clotting in a desperate attempt to pump to the rest of her body, even with most of her chest simply missing, her own magical essence the only thing keeping her ravaged body in one piece, much less alive.


-And then, with gargantuan force, it was gone, retracting through her to the acompaniment of ripping flesh and a sick squelch as it released her body. Bereft of the only thing keeping her aloft, Illya found herself falling, hitting the ground with a chorus of crackling as her bones protested the continued harsh treatment. It hurt, yes, but amongst the rest of the pain it simply all blurred together, physical, mental, and magical duress alike under the same umbrella.


Freed of the crucifying stake, her body was free to convulse - and free of her focus on the spike, Illya was free to realize that the pain was only worsening, not dissolving, as her own magic turned against her. Perhaps she did manage to scream this time, but if so it was drowned out as raw magical essence tore through her, flaying her body from the inside out, coagulating blood and bursting blood vessels with rampant abandon as it savaged her form.


The assault subsided as quickly as it had come, the only proof of its existence the excruciating ache that suffused every facet of her being. Now that she was free to move, Illya found herself unable - unwilling - to do so; exhausted in the wake of the horror she had just experienced, unable to even begin to comprehend what could have gone so terribly wrong with the seal to cause what had just happened, clueless as to how her magic had even recognized the ice as alien, and having difficulty reconciling the massive battle she had conducted before - waking up here with the silent serenity of the frozen tomb she now lay in.


-Except it was still the Cathedral, she realized, her eyes adjusting to the glare enough to comprehend the situation. Ice enshrouded the grandeur of the colossal building, immense pillars snaking throughout the room, impaling tapestries and hanging through shattered windows, glimmering with brilliant prismatic light as the sunlight filtered through crystalline magic.


It took a bit longer to realize that she was not the only body decorating the floor, nor the room in general. Skeletons littered the ground, even as men lay in eternal repose, their faces frozen in the horror that had suffused the last seconds of their life, locked away in the colossal spires she had encased them in. The fall of the Tower - it had not been a dream. Her... death. She found herself hesitant to comprehend what had happened to her, how her body could even be pulling itself back together with the Tower's power gone and the Overlord - or was he back?


Excitement thrilled through her for a moment before dissipating as the silence and truth of the situation struck her simultaneously. If she was still in the Tower it could not have been so silent. Not for a building that had always teemed with life and sound of every description. The skeletons, too; decomposition did not occur over periods of minutes, hours, even days or weeks. Time had passed, a long time, and she knew not the truth of the matter.


The Adepta Sororitas - but surely they still existed, else her connection to the demon's magic would have disappeared entirely. The intense feedback upon awakening was worrying, though, even beyond the immediate repercussions for her own body; it suggested that the seal might have weakened or been corrupted in some manner over the years. Or perhaps it had merely been a one-time-only reaction to the sudden drain she had exerted as she awoke and her body called for it once more. Ifs and ands and buts and maybes - a nonsensical yellow brick road to insanity.


The aftereffects of the seizure slowly dying down, her mind clearing of the agony, she began to attempt to comprehend and categorize what needed to be done. Find out what had happened to allow her to live again. Find the rest of the Generals, if any did indeed still draw breath. Discover the truth of what the Sororitas's situation was. Find out how long had passed.


...And maybe see if the few people she had actually tolerated were still around. Running into Rygal or Aurelia would be a welcome change.


At this point, she'd even settle for Nar'Tae.

 

[Blackadder]

----- Altharian Granz -----

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----- The Artificer Primus -----

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----- Location: The Magnus Lorus -----


The great lore house and workshop lay in a shambles, and then its silence, still and eerie, was broken by a ragged gasp. The elven figure laying on a table, snapped open his eyes, struggling against pain he was unaccustomed to. He was alive. Altharian, in an ungainly move not usual for an elf, rolled off and managed to dismount to his knees.


He felt the wound, the fatal thrust slowly closing up. So he was alive, though the Core had been shattered, hadn't it? The elven scholar tried to remember, but so much of his pertinent knowledge, his memories... were elusive. Not blank, he saw them, and yet as a baby can make sounds and words, but not pull them together into comprehensive language - the meaning and import evaded his mental grasp.


Purple eyes flashed worried - if this was a more permanent state, deprived of his hard earned knowledge. Even the magitech he knew was his making surrounded him - ruined as it must be - they seemed foreign in an impossible way. Perhaps it was just a side effect of his sudden rebirth.


Has the Overlord returned then? Was he alone? There was only one way to settle it for now, Altharian Granz felt. A search of the Tower would decide the answer. I wish I do not have to start all over, in such a diminished state - that would be a terrible tragedy.

 

[akampi]

----- Nar'tae Lak -----

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-----The Catalyst -----

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----- Location: The Cathedral -----

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She saw the light seeping in, reflecting off the shattered wreckage of the once towering, striking glass murals of the Cathedral across the planes of ice that had wormed inside through . It was strange, she noticed that first. This was her tomb, a monument to the past, the grave marker to His empire. How long had she been here? How long had she been dead? And why was she... alive?


Nar'tae Lak noticed all of this before her heart had started to beat again.


And she had never felt such agony, this silence. Pain? Perhaps- being speared alive by an ice pillar twice her weight comes to mind. But lying on the cusp of life and death? Unbearable. There is no room in her life for uncertainty. For that brief moment, she is horrified that whatever demon magic this was would leave her in this state of limbo forever. The thoughts were overwhelming and repetitive, stagnant in her mind, as cold and dead as the blood in her veins. Her heart shuddered, pitched a shot of adrenaline and with all the pitiful strength she had built she unlocked her jaw and gasped in desperation.


Alive.


Her mouth, her nose, the crevices of her eyes were filled with ash; and her tongue was so hard with impacted debris she had to press it flat to breath. She was still pinned by the column of ice that had crushed her body, straight through her rib cage, immortalized. A morbid statue. But there is no pain? Her stomach rolled. And rolled again when she sees movement at her feet, saw a head of striking blue hair slumped at her waist, impaled at a similar severity. Illyasviel. Oh, by His wisdom. They were both speared on this ice pillar of their own curdled blood. And Illyasviel was under this reanimation spell as well- but she would have a better idea of what was going on, certainly. Nar'tae Lak coughs violently to clear her throat and speak just as the other general seemed to be violently shocked into full consciousness and screams. Her magic is rotating and dancing around her, but it's wrong, shaky and dangerously uneven.


At a loss, Nar'tae turned to her greatest tool- brute strength. She was weak, and couldn't feel below her arms, but Nar'tae had a certain respectable spirit of heart that mostly derived from her inability to properly handle stress. And being revived under suspicious circumstances and discovering she was still trapped along with her mentor was fairly.. stressful. She was cold, confused, angry and her nose was stuffed and she had had enough of this ice cap bullshit. She doesn't have time to question if she was meant to die here, if she was interrupting some piece of the universe by disturbing her own grave, maybe her destiny- but she does. She coiled her muscles and released them with enough force to crack the ice, and she pulled an arm free with an angry roar and just kicked with all her force- she hadn't even noticed she had got feeling back in them.


The ice had been weakened over the weeks- years? - she'd rather not think about it- that they had been asleep, and with one wavering crack the entire wall falls apart with a satisfying crunch at her feet. She stepped (tripped, more accurately) over the crushed ice to kick it away from Illyasviel a few feet away. With how incoherent she had seemed after her... resurrection, Nar'tae was worried she wouldn't be able to unbury herself. She was relieved to find her much more coherent, blinking in the sun. Conguring some sort of plan of action already, she assumed.


She realised their wounds had been healed- she hadn't felt any pain when she had awakened because there was none- she felt helplessly at her chest, looking for the irrevocable, gaping wound that was no longer there. The pads of her fingers were dusted with dry blood, and the skin was sore and uneven- but she had been healed. And it made her uneasy. What sort of magic was this? She knew Illyasviel had a similar kind of magic, an aura of life preservation- the magic she had seem (even felt the heat of) earlier. Did she heal them both, and buckled in agony from the strain? Or was it an interaction with another force that was trying to heal them? The Overlord. A sudden thought. Had he returned? Was this a sign, their resurrection, to once again walk along side him? She did not understand these things, and it frustrated her.


"Do you have any idea what has happened? What is this magic?"


Nar'tae Lak offered her hand to the other general. If Illaysviel mentioned how it shook she would smack her, sponsor or not.