Welcome to Gaia! ::

You really think of Malgave as "too good"? Or just "too one-sided"? Maybe he is a bit too readable... we'll definitely get back to Parvati sometime soon--probably in the 4th movement (23 will mark the end of the 3rd section). Then again, I think of her as his one redeeming quality--the rest are all flaws.

The next chapter will be about Rozalina and Cosette and Merribelle--the Garidion family and its many secrets... oh and Lydia is likely to pop up again, but that's all still up in the air. It upsets me that there's not a bigger, more impressive ending to tie up this book like the other two had, though. I think I'll spend the majority of my writing time this week trying to figure that out...

This chapter marks the end of the third volume of Dark Magical Orchestra! It's a bit of a cliffhanger, but hey, that's just more reason to get the fourth book too, when it comes out. Finally, the mystery of Rozalina's character revealed... exciting, isn't it?


Twenty Third Movement: Generation and Consequence

April 30, 1944. Berlin…

Screams and gunfire echoed in the streets of Berlin. The great war was ending today, one way or the other. The carcasses of the untended dead, left behind by fleeing survivors made for a terrible sight. The smells of smoke and carnage permeated the air, thick and oppressive. The Germans of Berlin wept as the flying of Soviet flags forecast the coming years. As losers of the war, they would be forced into another era of poverty and repression from which they might never recover. It had not been long enough since the end of the first war–they remembered the hunger, the fear, the prideless, helpless existence they had suffered before the Furher had forced the world to respect them. Soon that dream would be over.

Rozalina Garidion stood in the entryway to a bunker at the center of the city, where the final battle of the war was awaiting her. Narshe suddenly clasped her shoulder. “Mistress… are you sure?” The vampire had a nervous look in her eyes, but Rozalina threw her arm away.

“Don’t question me–especially now!” Her eyes were burning with a golden fire. Despite the hardships of the war, the long treks, bad company, and grueling battles, Rozalina’s resolve was stronger than ever. “You and your detachment will guard my rear, and eliminate anyone who tries to interfere. This is how these things must always be done.”

“As you command, Empress.” Narshe turned back to a group of Soviet soldiers under her command–secret loyals of the Dark Empire. As Rozalina blasted apart the heavy door of the bunker with a single spell, Narshe turned back to face an oncoming assault of the Furher’s bodyguards. They were ready to fight, but there was no fire in their hearts, no drive in their eyes. Narshe turned away as her mage soldiers cast spells of death and destruction, slaying the Furher’s broken soldiers with an almost unfair efficiency. This was no war anymore, and Narshe–though a killer–was not a cold or impersonal one.

Inside the bunker, Rozalina put a hand over her eyes and murmured a few words. As she removed her gloved left hand, her eyes changed from their golden glow to a thick green.

“She’s he–” a soldier rushed into the hall and began to yell. A glare from Rozalina turned him to solid, powdery limestone, which she shattered with a tap as she passed by. After silencing the five other soldiers she had scryed in the bunker, Rozalina proceeded to the last, locked door in the hall. The spell of Basilisk’s Eyes was fading, and her gaze returned to its normal golden color.

The door burst open with a snap from Rozalina. There was pistol crack, and a bullet found itself buried above the Dark Empress’s Heart.

“In this war, I traded my mortality for the eleventh secret of the Dark Empire–mere weapons won’t kill me any longer, Adolf.” Rozalina spoke in calm German. The Furhur stood, his pistol still smoking, beside a woman, a little older than Rozalina.

“This is not finished!” Adolf glared. “We will not be defeated! We are the rightful inheritors of this earth.”

“Your people are broken, they know that you’ve failed.” Rozalina couldn’t help a vengeful smile. After all that this man and his ambitions had put her through, it would be fulfilling to have the final hand in his end. “Caesar–the chosen tyrant–you use your people, and feed off of their strength for your ambition. The spirit of the True King no longer rests upon your shoulders. Did you notice it pass?”

“Like you, I’ve been called. I’ve given up everything for Germany, Rozalina.” Adolf regained his composure, “I was chosen to make this nation great.”

“You could have, but you went too far.” The Empress shook her head. “I haven’t come here to talk about motives and ideas. I’m here to settle things the ancient way. Despite that you have no hope of surviving, you’ll accept my offer of an honorable duel to the death?”

The defeated Furher looked at her, with a touch of consideration in his face. It was too late for him to waver. He had already made a decision long ago. “So this is how a chapter of the secret war comes to an end. I had imagined it would not turn out so unfortunately for me. Goodbye Eva.” He kissed the woman beside him, and pushed her away as he drew his saber. “I’ll accept death., but you’re quick to judge me, Garidion. It is history that decides who was right and who was wrong. If I defeat you, if I had the strength–yours would be the evil empire, not mine.”

“Such a shame. Without the power of your monolith, you’re only an ordinary man, facing against the power of a god.”

“The power of the True King–Caesar’s line–grants me the strength of my people as one. In our final hour, when nothing is left to lose, our pride will burn out in a glory to consume your arrogance!” The Furher charged at Rozalina, feeling the old power her knew fill him once more.

“Agh… unfortunate.” Rozalina saw the change, and realized her duel would not be as simple as she had hoped. Adolf struck once, and again, and Rozalina parried blows with her corrupted left hand, her glove eventually coming to tatters under the weight of the Furher’s blade. “I didn’t realize that the pride of racism, hatred, and blind ambition held so strong.”

“You look within yourself for power, but for good or evil, I am more than myself!” The Furher struck again, drawing blood from Rozalina’s shoulder. With that strength, he would cut through the immortality to normal weapons Rozalina had gained. She could feel the power of a god, desperate for its last chance at victory, channeling within him. “You can’t hang the sins of this nation on me–I simply awakened what was within the hearts of the people. It was their will that brought this war to the world!”

“I’m glad for one not to be like you, Adolf.” Rozalina grabbed his blade with one hand, and glared into his eyes. “I am a sovereign leader–no one is responsible for my actions but myself!” Rozalina gritted her teeth, knowing she would regret later what she was going to do… but it was the only way. As long as the final secret remains locked away…

“Carmine! Teach me your twelfth secret!” Rozalina screamed.

“So close to the end, only one secret remains after this…” Carmine’s voice was so tangible that even the Furher could hear it. “The twelfth secret is written thus: Miltna tol’kyana valdar, elmat kar kar. That is to say: All is revealed to you for a time, at the price of your free will.”

“No… not…” It was too late. Rozalina felt her eyes open to the whole world. She saw the future and the past, she had the chance to learn the mysteries of the universe, the secrets of creation, the darkest and most powerful magics of the gods themselves. But she was too blinded by the thought of loss and the press of battle to think correctly. She watched Adolf break from her grip and prepare another attack. It was far too simple as she watched the thoughts rush in and around his mind, saw the muscles tense and the subtle hints of intention. Rozalina stepped around two strikes, leading the Furher into a final, fatal attack. With one black claw of her left hand, she touched a point at the back of his neck, and let loose a rush of negative energy, injecting dark magic into his mind.

“Ugh…” Adolf dropped his sword, frozen in some sort of stupor. Like a man entranced, he reached one hand for his pistol, the other for a cyanide capsule he had planned to use in the worst case. Die, die, die. A voice echoed in his brain. It pushed out every thought except that of self-destruction.

There was a crack as the pistol went off, burying a slug in the Furher’s head just as he bit down upon the cyanide.

Eva screamed.

“You’d best not wait too long in following him.” Rozalina looked down at her coolly. The Empress’s black dress swept about her as she turned to leave, and Eva swallowed her own capsule, a look of horror and wonder on her features.

Rozalina froze as she was leaving. The vision she had gained narrowed, until she was looking at herself from the outside, like some strange out of body experience. The vision moved forward quickly, until she was watching herself converse with Narshe, hearing every word in a moment, following herself back to Romania, to be with Jonathan and her daughters… and past that, to Hallie, and then to Midland. Her first actions had been natural, but now she was acting because she knew her destiny, from this very vision. Rozalina saw herself reuniting with Cosette, and then heading on, on to an even more fateful battle than this one had been…

And then she was back in her own body, every second of the future of her life burned into her mind. She took a few steps toward the exit of the bunker. She knew she would find the allies victorious outside. She knew what they would say to her, what they would eat for dinner in celebration, and how she would not be able to eat much of it, because her stomach was already feeling hideous from the gross knowledge that she could no longer escape from. Life held no more charm, and there was no way out. She had seen too much, and become a prisoner of her own existence, until the last day when she would die. Even then, she saw no relief. Death would be no liberation for her.

She had made her choice. And the consequences were far too clear for comfort.

*****

Villa Vivikadvra, just outside Chicago, Winter of 1950…

“It’s a shame that you took up that terrible habit.” Rozalina scolded Cosette, as the two of them sat smoking Ritherwhyte in the study of Villa Vivikadvra. The reunion had been a bittersweet thing. The young empress was not sure how to react to the return of her mother after so long. On one hand, she was overjoyed… but there was something different. Cosette knew it when she saw Rozalina waiting for her with Narshe, Malgrve, and Hallie at the gate. Things would never go back to the way they were before Rozalina had left, or before the second World War. Something had changed in her mother, though Cosette could not quite put her finger on what it was.

“You’re one to talk.” Cosette puffed in response. Outside the study, there were soft sounds of battle, muffled by the Villa’s thick walls. Apparently Hylie and Midland had found an interesting opponent in one another, and were training a little ways down the road.

Narshe had taken Hallie, the other new resident of the villa, on a shopping trip, and the two of them would not be returning until sundown. With Malgrave shut up in his laboratory, it was a quiet afternoon for mother and daughter.

“Don’t make me your role model.” Rozalina shook her head. She was stunningly beautiful, without her veil and heavy, black dress. Only the corruption of her left hand carefully masked in a heavy glove, could detract from her delicate form and perfect features. She watched Cosette’s eyes. “And yes, someday you’ll be as beautiful as I am, unfortunately.”

Unfortunately? Cosette was not sure how to answer such a thing. “What happened to you, mother? What changed in the war?”

“I saw many truths, my little princess.” Rozalina referred to Cosette as she had when the girl was still a child. Of course, now that Empress Rozalina had returned, Cosette would be giving up her title, becoming only a princess once more. “They say that the truth sets you free, but what is there to set you free from the truth?”

Cosette thought to herself about this for a few moments. Her mother had often asked these kinds of questions to her, and perplexed her as a child. “When you’re grown, you’ll understand…” was always her mother’s answer in those days. Cosette felt that today, she understood.

“Like Carmine’s secrets… each time we learn something, we sacrifice something. You give up ignorance–” Cosette explained.

“–dreams, to be more poetic. Knowledge of the truth takes away the possibility that exists in life. It loses potential.” Rozalina explained. “You may feel like you gain more power with that sacrifice, and so you do, but the cost of the potential is something you must always be aware of. I wanted you to understand that all things, weakness, ugliness, even ignorance, have an inherent value.”

“But isn’t the philosophy of the Empire to take the best, the brightest, the strongest, and exalt it? Isn’t it the pursuit of the highest ideal in all spheres of life?”

“Perhaps it is.” Rozalina sighed, exhaling a pattern of colored smoke, “but it’s not the way to find happiness in this world. I’ve learned that perfection is only a dream, my dear. It’s one that promises more than it can ever really offer.”

Cosette pondered silently her mother’s words. “I wanted to ask you…”

“…about your father?” Rozalina finished. “So it is about that time.” Her mother smiled, only faintly betraying a hint of wistfulness. “You’re going to have to bear a new princess to the empire as well, and you want to know how it’s done?”

“Well…”

“Well, well, you won’t be too surprised when I tell you who my lover was.” Her mother laughed. “You even called him ‘father’ once, before you were taught better.”

“You mean…” Cosette’s eyes widened, remembering the man she had seen so often at the villa, and with whom she had spent the five years of her life in hiding during the second World War.

“Doctor Jonathan Kalika.” Rozalina nodded.

“But… but… I don’t look anything like him! I mean, well…”

“Of course you don’t. Malgrave concocted an infusion, which I took the night you were conceived. You would have turned out like you are regardless of who your father was, just like me.”

Cosette looked down, mentally connecting dots.

“Soon, you’ll have to choose someone to father your heiress as well, but you shouldn’t think of it in that sense.” Her mother nodded, setting down her pipe. She pulled Cosette’s face up to face hers. “You were born of love, not necessity. Do you understand?”

Cosette’s eyes watered, and she felt a wave of relief pass over her. Mother and daughter embraced each other warmly. “So, have you found someone to join you in the endeavor of producing an heir?”

As a woman, the thought of having children excited Cosette. But, of letting someone get so close to her… the thought was terrifying and exhilarating at once. She was suddenly struck by how few men were in her life. There was Ghaith–handsome, adventurous, and dashing, always ready for anything, and she felt safe trusting in him. And then Arrant–smart, interesting, and flattering. He seemed to know the right words for any situation, to make Cosette seem right at ease. But no… she did not feel strongly enough for either of them to get that close…

“Not yet.” She answered truthfully, though she wanted to tell her mother of some secret passion or strong bond she had forged.

“Well, there’s no rush.” Rozalina crossed her arms, “And don’t let Malgrave or Narshe bully you into it, either. All things in their season.” Her words reassured Cosette immensely.

“But wait a minute.” Cosette thought aloud. “If Doctor Kalika was your lover then… that makes Archeme and I half-sisters?”

“Yes, that’s right. You and Merribelle have a half-sister.”

Mentally comparing Archeme and Merribelle, Cosette was surprised by how similar they really looked. Take away the glasses and bandanna from Archeme, and compare the bright curly hair, the skin tone, the soft freckles–they really did look like sisters. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I think you knew deep down that you were sisters… and you couldn’t live together with her forever. It might be less painful to you that way, we decided. Not knowing might be easier than understanding the complex relationship Jonathan and I had with one another all those years. It would have crushed Lady Kalika as well. She was still alive at that time, and a fragile woman, both in body and spirit.”

Merribelle might have been better off not knowing her mother either… Cosette thought, remembering her younger sister’s feelings of abandonment–feelings which had festered into hatred over many years.

“You have more that you want to ask me.” Rozalina stated, reading the questions out of Cosette’s eyes.

“I want to know the truth about the war. I want to know how the future of the world is decided, and what I have to do.”

“No.” Rozalina hung her head. “You only think you do. My wish is that you and your sisters escape this… this monstrous, unending war. Find peace, my little princess. That’s all I’ve ever hoped for you.”

*****

“There!” Hylie made a lunge to Midland, who turned and let the blow glance off of his left shoulder, immune to its force. He swung Marduk around to catch her, but she vaulted off of the ground and cleared the heavy sword, leaving Midland’s back wide open to attack. The boy turned his slash into a full rotation, bringing the blade around again, but this time Hylie caught it’s flat in the palm of one hand and sprang over it. As the sword opened its jowls to snap at her, she spun one foot to catch Midland’s face, and another heel into his left ankle. With a cry of surprise, his balance evaporated, and he found himself on his head, with Hylie deftly landing on her hands and staring upside-down at him.

“Owww… that was a good one.” The boy laughed, scratching his head and using his sword to stand. “Am I getting too predictable?”

“Hmm..” Hylie considered. “You’re enjoying yourself too much. Demons fight better angry.” She made an angry face, and curled her fingers like claws, as if to give some kind of example. “You’ve got to tap into that if you’re going to use that weapon for its real potential.” She pointed at the sword. A yellow eye opened in the side of the blade and glared at her. “Jealous because I can walk around?” Hylie taunted Marduk. “You might be the more powerful Destroyer, but somehow I don’t find myself jealous at all, hahaha.” She threw back her head and laughed.

“Enjoying ourselves, it seems.” A familiar voice spoke disdainfully. Lydia Al-Sabah watched the display from the edge of the path leading to the villa. Behind her was the form of Remiliss. The weapon had a blank, detached stare across her features. Several other bodyguards stood with them, as per usual. It would be unlike Lydia to travel alone. Her car, a white limousine, was still running. “Don’t waste time, Remiliss.”

“Understood.” The woman answered through her face mask. Her green hair was tied back today, but her dress was still a skintight bodysuit with various chemical warnings and biohazard symbols scribed onto it.

“What are you doing here?” Hylie growled, stepping forward.

“Think of this as a repossession. I traced a certain piece of my property here, and I’ve come personally to reclaim it.” Lydia explained, as Remiliss walked forward briskly. Heading straight for Hylie and Midland.

“If you’re looking for a fight…” Hylie cracked her knuckles, and Midland readied his blade.

Remiliss raised a hand at lightning speed and snapped her fingers open. A blob of burning black goo leapt from her fingers and splashed across Hylie’s surprised face.

“Agh!” The demon clawed at her eyes, desperately trying to quench the burning substance and restore her sight.

Remiliss stepped closer, and Midland braced himself for a fight.

“Come on, boy, give me the sword.” Lydia beckoned with two fingers. She spoke in arabic. “Marduk, my birthright, obey me!” Something flashed across her features.

“Gyah!” Midland grasped the left side of his chest with his free hand, falling to his knees. He felt something within himself being pulled towards her, bowing before her command.

“So, you’ve begun to fuse with the blade. That’s just interest on the loan of power you’ve taken out. It seems like I own you now too.” She nodded to Remiliss. “Take him.”

“No!” Midland screamed, swinging Marduk up in a wide arc. The blade caught Remiliss’s waist, and sliced cleanly through her to the opposite shoulder. The top half of the bioweapon’s body froze as it dropped from its greater part, turning to a kind of toxic mush as it splashed to the ground. Hylie was fighting wildly against some invisible foe a meters to the left of Remiliss and Midland, her eyes still blinded and burning.

“I’m… not going to be controlled… anymore…” Midland stood.

Lydia just watched.

Remiliss’s insides seethed and boiled. There were no organs, just a sputtering soup of semisolid chemicals. A cloud of toxicity was beginning to fill the air about her, until a large bubble from her wound solidified into a face, and rose up–a new torso climbing out of the remnants of the old like some hideous butterfly emerging from its cocoon. Remiliss’s skin, from her face to her right breast and arm were clearly exposed. Her sea green eyes gazed passively into Midland’s stunned ones, as he watched the horrifying spectacle before him.

Remiliss let out a forced gust of air from her bluish lips, and a cloud of yellowish toxins blasted Midland in the face. The young man began to choke, dropping to his knees once again. Without a second of hesitation, the woman brought a foot up into his chest, knocking out his breath, and sending him unconscious.

Picking up Midland and his sword with ease, the living weapon walked back to her master.

“In the trunk.” She looked at the sword. “Keep the boy in the front. I’d like a word with him when he wakes up.”

Remiliss looked back to Hylie, who was finally clearing her eyes of the tar. Hylie spotted the two of them, and set to making an attack.

“I’ll deal with her.” Lydia watched the charging demon. Lowering her eyes, she spoke quietly to herself. “Babel, I am your hand.”

*****

“L… Lydia did this to you?” Cosette’s eyes were wide, as she looked over the remnants of her servant Hylie. The demon’s body was torn asunder, missing an arm, slashed and bruised almost beyond recognition. Narshe, Cosette, and Hylie were together in Narshe’s study, tending to the demon’s wounds. Lydia long gone, Narshe and Hallie had discovered the demon and heard the whole story on their return from shopping.

“What do you expect, witch!?” Hylie screamed. “You confine me to this body that died months ago, and then limit my powers to almost nothing with these damn rings!” She waved her remaining arm feebly, showing off the ring of bone that bound her into her mortal form.

“But… Lydia doesn’t fight!” Cosette thought back. “Well, I’ve seen it once, but it wasn’t a kind of attack that could do this. You look like you were eaten alive!”

“I was! Didn’t I tell you about it?!” Hylie was still yelling hysterically.

“Calm down.” Narshe shook her head. “She’s right though, Cosette, this body isn’t going to hold up for her.”

“What do you suggest we should do then?”

“Another one of your ghouls is fine,” Hylie growled, “but I have to be able to abdicate possession at will.”

Narshe looked to Cosette.

“Well, she is bound by Knale to serve me.” Cosette considered. “And I have this.” She looked down to Solomon’s Key, glowing slightly at its place around her neck. “Do you think you can behave yourself, Askimilar?”

Hylie looked at her, glowering.

“Fine. Narshe, find a body that isn’t too different from this one. Maybe in the same clothes we’ll still recognize her.” Cosette shrugged, turning to leave. “I need to talk to mother. She’ll know precisely what Lydia is up to, I’m sure…”

“As you command, princess.” Narshe smiled excitedly, helping Hylie up. “Come with me. It happens that I have quite a beautiful one in stock today…”

*****

“Mother–” Cosette began.

“Midland is gone. I know.” Rozalina betrayed little emotion.

“You were aware? But why–”

“Lydia has already set things in motion. Begining a chain of events the consequences of which she cannot herself imagine.” The Empress was calm, though a tone far too somber for normal conversation entered her voice. “Cosette, there is little we can do in this life but enjoy the good and endure the bad. The end of my life is coming soon…”

“What?!” Cosette tried to protest, but a scowl from her mother told her that there would be no interruptions.

“…the end of my life is coming soon, and with it, an event that will shake the fate of the world. You’ll understand in time, and I haven’t been able to see the outcome, but I believe… I believe that you and your allies will be able to stop the inevitable, and change the fate of the war.”

“I…”

“You can’t be like me, Cosette. Don’t plug up your ears and close your eyes and chase after dreams, or believe in some vain responsibilities you think you have… You have to wake up and look around and decide every moment for yourself. That’s the only way for you to free yourself of this family’s curse.”

Cosette was stunned to silence.

“Now, princess, I have to do my meditations and prepare for what is soon to come. You should do the same. You have an important part to play. Might I suggest…” Rozalina looked carefully over the bookshelf of her study, and drew out a single book. She handed the volume to Cosette with a nod.

The girl looked carefully at the old, worn book. It was a storybook from the time of the Renaissance Empire–one which Garidions had read to their young daughters since time immemorial. The cover showed a great hero, raising a familia-looking sword high into the air. In the old tongue, Cosette could clearly read the book’s title: The adventure’s of Lord Enlu, and the Fall of Babel’s Tower.

Rozalina isn't being possessed--she's just found a point where every choice she makes is a result of the previous choices, and the knowledge she has of the future. Basically, she's in a situation where, though you're yourself, you're no longer in control of your life.

It's frightening to think about, really.

That will come in time...

Nonsense--if anyone has had a hand in my improvement as a writer, it's you, Leav. If I hadn't found this forum, found someone who pushed me to stick to my deadlines, and who was interested enough to keep coming back and reading, I would have stopped working on DMO a long time ago. If I hadn't heard your criticisms about the personalities of the characters, Cosette, Narshe, and everyone else could never have grown and developed as they have.

Your writing is getting much better too, though I really wish you'd come up with a deadline and stick to it. Even if it's a bit of a crunch sometimes, you've gotta hold yourself to some standard--and ask other people to hold you to it too.

I really appreciate you as both an editor and a friend, and consider myself the same to you. Now get back to writing! stare

Let's keep pushing each other to get better!
~KK

This is the start of the Fourth Symphony, which will have much more continuity and connection between chapters than the previous sections of the story have. I'd like to get an honest opinion about how things are shaping up--is the current chain of events looking interesting? Are you anxious to find out what happens next, and to see the true history of the world revealed?

The next chapter will follow Archeme as a main character--a fresh break from the standard cast.

24th Movement - Preparation for War

“She said that we won’t go after them yet.” Cosette shrugged. She was talking to Narshe in the foyer of Villa Vivikadvra, discussing the kidnapping of Midland. “I don’t understand, but she told me that ‘more must happen before we move against Lydia.’” The young princess’s eyes radiated a confounded expression. “I’m starting to remember how things were when she was around before. Everything was cryptic like this, wasn’t it?”

“Truth is rarely as rosy a picture as memory paints.” Narshe quoted with a slightly fanged smile. “But, speaking of new and old, it’s time for our grand unveiling. Hylieee!!!” Narshe shouted back towards her laboratory.

The laboratory door opened, and Hylie strode out, wearing her new body a bit clumsily. It made sense. Her last one had been a few inches shorter, and she was still adjusting to the differences. Her skin was a bit darker, and her hair a much fuller red–it had clearly been dyed to match the old color as best it could. Hylie walked to the center of the room and spun about once to show off her new form.

Despite that her facial features were slightly different, her eyes had the same deep green, and there was something in the expression and way she carried herself that was definitely Hylie. All in all, the effect was similar to seeing a good friend for the first time in several years. The appearance is different, but immediately, one recognizes that familiar aura.

“A pretty good match, hm?” Narshe nodded, satisfied.

“You… you’ve ruined her!” A quiver of anger was in Cosette’s voice.

“Hm?” Narshe gave a sideways look.

“You… you made her like you!” Cosette sputtered stepping forward. Her full height brought her to about Hylie’s shoulder level, and she poked an accusing finger at Hylie’s breasts, a few sizes larger than those of the demon’s old body. “You were my one ally, Hylie… and now…” She looked down at her own small chest, a brooding look crossing her features.

“Awww, feeling inadequate, are we, mistress?” Narshe cooed. “I’m sure Malgrave could concoct something to–”

“No.” Cosette turned, slamming one heel to the ground. “No. No. No.” The princess barked, her small fists shaking with anger. “Just get out of my sight, both of you!” She turned and walked off, her own personal storm cloud hanging overhead. When the door to Cosette’s study was safely slammed shut, both Narshe and Hylie burst into laughter.

“Hahaha…” Hylie grinned, running a hand through her new hair. “That went well. I think I’ll like this body.”

“She’s so easy, hm?” Narshe shook her head, sitting down in one of the foyer’s chairs.

“Heh.” Hylie examined her own reflection in the polished marble floor. “So, explain these to me.” She held up one hand, the wrist of which was encircled by a silvery ring with two small breaks in it.

“That is a little something of my own design.” Narshe explained. “From what I understand, Destroyers aren’t the most adept at possession, no?”

“If you’re implying some sort of weakness, I’ll teach you the truth,” Hylie looked at Narshe to see if she could read the vampire’s face, but centuries of dealing with humans had made Narshe’s visage a perfect mask of sincerity. “We Destroyers have more important skills to master than… this.” She looked up and down to indicate her own body. “We were meant for battle. Let the Fatespinners have their puppets, I say.”

“Naturally.” Narshe nodded, playing along. “And so that you don’t have to waste any time, I’ve put these rings together. They’ll hold you in human form like the old ones, but, if you expend just a little of your power, they’ll break open temporarily, allowing your full strength to manifest.”

“Hmmm, excellent.” Hylie took another look at the ring. Flexing her fingers only slightly, she tried to exercise a tiny bit of destructive magic. As the vulgar low magic of her Daemonic class coursed from her heart and into her fingertips, the ring split and expanded, a thin band of arcane energy connecting each side.

As it broke, Hylie felt a great surge of strength. It was refreshing to wield her full power once again. Relaxing, the band snapped back around her wrist as the magic receded into her heart of iron. “I have some old comrades in hell who might appreciate a set of these as well…”

“They weren’t easy to make.” Narshe sniffed, a sour look on her face. “You’re a servant of this house, for now, but it’s not my business to outfit your master’s slaves.”

“Heh. I wonder what it is you have against master Knale, vampire? Don’t care to enlighten me?”

“You’re old enough to know for yourself.” Narshe stood to leave. “Now I have to get back to–”

“During the age of the Renaissance Empire, Master walked the earth in human form…” Hylie put forth, more of a question than a statement.

“So it was.” Narshe spoke bitterly. “She could not succeed in raising hell to earth in those days, but she brought it upon this family. She stole everything from those who trusted her most.”

“So what?” Hylie’s features twisted into an unpleasant glare.

“I’d be wary to serve such a fickle master. Cosette will never discard me, even if my usefulness passes. Knale will burn you along with her garbage once you’ve played your role in this. I’m sure you’ve seen it happen before.” Narshe’s door slammed, leaving Hylie alone in the foyer.

The demon thought back to her one day in the underworld, before she had taken a hand in slaying the Great Dragon Nidhoggr. That day, she has watched Overlord Knale slay one of the her own generals who had grown too strong to reliably serve. How much did she really know of her master, after two and a half millennia of fighting in Knale’s name?

Returning to her chamber in the dungeons, Hylie did something she had never done before. The demon pondered her own eventual fate.

She gave thought to the future.

*****

Villa Vivikadvra, Romania, 1325 AD

Narshe threaded the last lace in princess Carmine’s dress, tying the back of the garment together dexterously. The princess was dressed in a long gown that made breathing slightly difficult, but was a brilliant and beautiful shade of red, accented by layers of white lace. She stood before an array of five full body mirrors, while Narshe stood behind her, making sure that she looked presentable for today’s visit. Carmine’s gold eyes were bright with excitement, and her silvery hair flounced about as she tried brushing it one way and the other with her crimson-gloved hands.

“Princess, please stop that.” Narshe sighed, as a lock of hair washed across her face, some strands catching on her tongue.

“This will be your first time meeting Mother, won’t it, servant?” Carmine’s young voice was that of a born ruler, already condescending from her very birth. She did not treat Narshe badly, but they would never be friends in the way that Narshe would become friends with the later Garidion generations. Carmine was a lonely child, for she lived in her own ivory tower of pedigree which no other outside the Domus Noctem et Diem could hope to ascend.

“Yes, so it is. Would you tell me about her?” Narshe asked, eager to get Carmine’s mind off of her hair.

“Certainly.” The trick worked, and Carmine turned her attention to recalling everything she could about her mother. Her hands absentmindedly turned their attentions to a large rose pinned near her waist. “You know that I am the thirteenth daughter of the Dark Emperor, but that I’m still the successor to the throne. That’s because I’m the only daughter of the Empress. My brothers and sisters all have different mothers. She is so beautiful, and wise too.”

“So I’ve heard. And is it true that your father built the empire as a tribute to those virtues? That’s how the stories go.” Narshe, even so long ago, had a terrible soft spot for a good romantic story.

“That’s what Father told me. He said it was her inspiration that led him to rediscover magic, and that’s how the past age of terrors was ended.” Carmine recollected.

The Age of Terrors… Narshe had been born after the rise of the Renaissance Empire, but before that time, the world had been cast into a great age of nightmare–a place of living horrors and terrible creatures that oppressed man and razed the earth. Born from the evil in the souls of mankind, these terrors, who called themselves Legion, had found a few masters among mankind, and had brought those masters to rule over the whole earth. No mortal weapon had been able to harm these aberrations, but the rediscovery of magic had been the key to overthrowing them and their wicked masters.

“Father was born the third prince of Babylon, the last human kingdom in the world. It is said that one day, he was met by a muse–a living incarnation of creativity, and taught the secrets of magic–the ultimate art–long forgotten by mankind. Father was not content to bid his muse farewell, however. He kept her, made her his wife, and vowed to make her an Empress in a kingdom after her own image–a world of perfect art and beauty.” Carmine narrated. “And so, Enlu crafted two magical swords, and gave them to his brothers, so that they could fight alongside him. Working with his older brothers, Father slew the monsters, and built the grandest kingdom in the world. And then, when his brothers grew jealous, and tried to betray him, he took back the powers he had given them, and destroyed Babylon.” She nodded, proud at herself for remembering the whole tale.

But that had been only half of the story. The Renaissance Empire had granted relief from these monsters who once ruled the lands at its own price. Now mages ruled the world, oppressing and eliminating those who were not gifted with their particular talents. Narshe had never met a human who could not use magic, and vampires had their own powers which set them apart from humans in the order of the Empire. However, history would remember the millions of untalented, ugly, or unfit who were cruelly murdered by the Empire, simply for being what they were born as.

“So, if my mother is a muse, then that makes me a half-muse.” Carmine studied her appearance in the mirrors, straightening the rose once more.

“I would believe it, hearing you sing.” Narshe smiled. The princess did have a beautiful singing voice, and she could usually be found skipping through the villa gardens tra-la-la-ing her lungs out after lessons each day.

“Do you think someone will build me an empire someday? Or half an empire?” Carmine looked through the mirror into Narshe’s red eyes, just a shade deeper than the dress.

“Oh, who knows?” The vampire straightened a few more frills in the dress, then proceeded to tie Carmine’s hair back with her customary black ribbon. Today would call for a slightly more artistic tie than her normal ponytail. Thankfully, Narshe had been studying some of the books that Carmine had brought with her, one of which was a thick grimoire entitled The New Age of Fashion, which Narshe had come to regard as a kind of owner’s manual for dealing with the Princess.

The two finished up preparations and headed downstairs to the foyer, to meet the first Empress of the Renaissance Empire.

Light flooded in as the Grand double doors of the Villa broke open to let in fresh air. Led by a contingent of mage-knights of the empire, a figure dressed in the most splendid attire Narshe had ever witnessed entered. Her long hair was tied and braided in an immaculate style, and her dress cascaded down and out, shimmering and seeming to weave itself into and out of the air, unsure of where to begin and end. She wore a dark gray gown, interspersed with tiny gemstones which glittered like stars in the night sky. The dress made a point to reveal a fair amount of her soft, coffee-colored skin, and blended smoothly into her flawless features.

The most striking thing about the Empress was not her eyes–one a soft red, and the other a deep hazel. It was not the glowing sign of Divinity upon her forehead, or the jewels that adorned her neck and ears and wrists and fingers. It was her smile. She smiled a smile which seemed to inspire, and to set the whole world at peace. Narshe felt enlightenment at the edge of her mind as she looked into the glorious face of perfection. New spells, lost arts, great mysteries–all seemed so close in that gaze.

“Hello, my daughter.” Empress Knale Sye Kolor looked into the eyes of her mortal child, and stepped forward to embrace her.

* * * * *

Evening was drawing near when a knock rang out through the heavy doors of the manor. Rozalina had anticipated guests, and was already at the side of the door. With a casual wave, she beckoned the door to open, and the old wood complied with only a slight creak. Outside, two guests stood where Rozalina had summoned three.

“Aunt Rozie!” Archeme’s face was beaming. The girl was standing aright, for the first time in quite awhile. Her legs and back supported by a kind of exoskeletal suit. Apparently her ability to control machines was being put to use in this device, which substituted rather seamlessly for her physical deficiencies. Jakob stood beside her, wearing his old long coat and hat, with one trunk of luggage in either hand.

“Who’s here, Mother?” Cosette’s voice called down from the upstairs.

“Cosette! It’s me!” Archeme yelled up.

“And Nateel is not with you?” Rozalina’s face looked grim.

“No, I haven’t heard from her since her wedding was canceled.” Archeme shook her head. Her golden curls were now pulled back in a red wrap which revealed more of her features. Her face and figure were a bit thinner than the last time she had met with Cosette.

“Archeme?” Cosette’s head peeked around the corner of the stairwell, and then her entire form emerged, rushing down the stairs to meet her cousin. She stopped a few feet before Archeme, sizing her up. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Since she had come to learn that Archeme was actually her half-sister, she would look at the girl differently than before. It was going to be hard to break that secret to her… or should she? “Interesting costume… you look a bit different than the last time we met.”

“Yeah, I built this suit so that I could walk again.” The girl twirled around on one toe to make a demonstration. “I’ve lost a lot of weight since I got active again.”

“Good for you.” Rozalina nodded. “Now, Jakob, please come in before that draft chills us all to death.”

“Thank ye’, maj’sty.” The man stepped inside and unloaded Archeme’s luggage, which Cosette looked over at in a disappointed kind of way.

“You’re not staying long?”

“I am.” The British girl mocked her half-sister. “We don’t all pack as heavy as you do, Empress.”

“It’s princess, now that Mother’s back.” Cosette corrected, imitating a pout.

“Ah, I see.” Archeme looked around the old villa. “This place doesn’t change much, does it? You’ll have to come to my new home sometime, it’s really something.”

“Oh, you rebuilt the mansion?”

“No, not so much. But you’ll see. Think of it as a surprise.”

“Alright, I’ll look forward to it.”

Rozalina spoke up, interrupting the excited chatter of the two girls. “I fear the worst for your cousin, Nateel. Though I sent her a letter, she seems not to have shown up.”

“And you can’t divine her location?” Worry was apparent on Cosette’s soft features.

“She is obscured–by some force or another.” Was Rozalina’s only answer. Her face looked grim.

“Did they come back for her…?” Cosette muttered to herself.

“They?” Two hands fell on Cosette’s shoulders, and Archeme looked directly across into her eyes. “Do you have some idea what could have happened?” The concern was apparent in her voice.

“Nateel’s wedding wasn’t canceled because her fiancé left… The person she was thought she was going to marry was something else… it was a creature intent on stealing her soul.”

“Legion, the many in the dark.” Rozalina interjected. “They once ruled over this world too, just as the clock and our family.”

“So Nateel’s another player in this war too?” Archeme sighed. “That’s just to be expected, isn’t it?” She stomped the marble floor, teeth clenched. “Why didn’t you tell any of us about this?”

“I… I thought that Etlinde and I had saved her, and sealed it away for good.” Cosette shook her head. “If the danger was gone, then why worry everyone?”

“But you were clearly wrong.” Archeme’s eyes narrowed behind her round glasses. She was using a more reprimanding tone than Cosette preferred. “For someone who can divine the future, Cosette, you make some rather critical lapses of judgment!”

“Archeme,” Rozalina snapped. “There’s nothing to do for it now.”

“I’m sorry.” Cosette turned her back on them both.

“Fine.” Archeme took a deep breath, cooling off a bit. “What can you tell us about Legion, Aunt Rozie?”

“The Legion?” another rasping voice asked. “I may be slightly more suited to explain than her majesty–if you’ll permit.” Malgrave had just entered the foyer, and bowed to Rozalina deeply. Narshe and Hylie were following behind him.

“Yes, that would be excellent.” Rozalina nodded. “But let us sit down in the parlor. This place is too spacious for stories.”

* * * * *

The year 1150…

A whip fell across the back of twenty-one year old Hulbrenth Malgrave, a slave of the Black Masters, the leaders of the Nightmare Empire that had fallen like a blight across the face of the earth only thirty years before. The Temple of Infinite Eyes rested above the oceans, suspended forever in a cloud of shadow and cold. There was no chance of escape, or rescue, or salvation from this place–this bastion of secrets and evil. It was an unfortunate age that the young man had been born into, as villages like his own were being torn apart–kidnapped to feed the manifest horrors bred by the Nightmare Empire or worse–to create them.

“Agh!” Hulbrenth screamed, as another lash, coated in some sort of poison, cut into his back, spilling human blood upon the cold stones of the floor. He was not a slave for labor, but for torment. The Black Masters kept many such creatures in their domain, torturing and punishing them in the most grotesque ways, yet unwilling to release them into the blessed silence of eternal rest. The anguish and hatred of these slaves would be taken, and used as the raw material to forge the next generation of living nightmares.

Throughout the torture chambers of the fortress, Malgrave heard the wails and cries of his fellow villagers, those he had grown up alongside. Some wept, others were begging for death, and many more prayed to something, anything to save them. Malgrave clenched his teeth in despair. Hope had fled him long ago, and he no longer begged or cried. He only tried to calm his mind, determined to help these evil men as little as possible.

His masked tormentor gripped Malgrave by his graying hair, and led him to a thick stone slab, inscribed with various markings and soaked in blood. Another being in a robe and hood was waiting there for him. Malgrave was unsure of whether or not his torturers were human, but he was quite certain that the robed beings were themselves aberrations from outside this world. A tendril of living shadow reached out from the sleeve of the creature’s robe, as the torturers pried open his eyes. The tendrils pressed against his eyes, and then through them, and into his mind, sifting around for whatever horrors, hatred, or darkness had taken form there.

With what Malgrave could only be sure was sadistic glee, the creature wrapped its tendrils around its prize, and pulled. The pain was horrific, as a creature three times his size was forcibly pulled out of his mind and into the real world. No longer a creature of illusion, the monster solidified in the air above the table. It was like a shadowy mass of tentacles and eyes itself, slithering down and away from the table, already sure of its purpose in the grand, terrible design of the Nightmare Empire.

Then, there was a cry which Hulbrenth had not heard in many years. It was not a cry of anguish, but of valor.

Gurgles and hisses of dying creatures of darkness sounded through the dungeons, as Malgrave glimpsed for the first time the face of the man whose vision would define the rest of his existence. Lord Enlu and several other figures fought through an onslaught of torturers and vile monsters. Unused to enemies who fought back, their foes were easily slain beneath the force of their attack. At their lead, the Emperor fought with no weapon of steel, but a blade forged of mystic power.

Those prisoners who had succumbed to insanity long ago at the hands of their tormentors were blessed with the sleep of death at the hand of the Dark Emperor and his knights. Upon those whose hearts were still strong, but whose bodies were weak, and whose minds were too wracked with terrors to live at peace with mankind, Lord Enlu cast a spell of transmogrification, transforming man into vampire.

As Malgrave’s heart transformed from that of a mortal human into an immortal vampire, he felt a new force of purpose fill his soul, granting him a strength he had not known his entire life. For the rest of eternity, he vowed to serve Lord Enlu with all of his power. Taking up one of the Dark Emperor’s enchanted weapons, Hulbrenth fought alongside his new master through the Temple of Infinite Eyes, cutting through the centuries-long night of the Nightmare Empire, and restoring sanity to the world.

Only one soul survived the destruction of the Temple unchanged–a small baby–the youngest child of the Black Masters, in whom Enlu saw the potential to discover new secrets of the heart and mind.

* * * * *

Cosette, Archeme, and Narshe sat in silence at the conclusion to Malgrave’s tale. Hylie, upon hearing, seemed to have a glint of admiration for the weary nobleman in her eye. Rozalina and Old Jake, as always, sat and listened emotionlessly.

“So then Nateel is–”

“Nateel is the last descendant of the Black Masters.” Rozalina answered Archeme’s question before it was complete. “The Garidion family has kept a leash on her line since the time of the Renaissance Empire. She’s quite similar to the both of you,actually.”

“But I pulled Nateel away from them–I’m sure she was saved.” Cosette was looking down at her knees.

“The Legion is not a creature of flesh or blood, and it cannot be overcome or defeated by any feat of strength.” Malgrave hissed. “You cannot trust your mind or your senses in the presence of such monsters. Your divinations are ineffectual for the same reason–the truth flees from their watching eyes.”

“So what’re we t’do?” Jake spoke up, a slight metallic ring in his voice. “I ‘fer one ain’t gonna let Nateel get ‘urt–I know yer’ both feelin’ same, Cos’, Archeme.”

“You’re right.” Cosette nodded. “We can’t give up on her. We can’t let these things hurt her–even if they are born from her own mind.”

“And what will you do? You can’t even find her.” Malgrave pointed out. “You have more pressing problems concerning your other cousin–Lydia.”

“I know!” Archeme stood, a sudden flash of insight burning in her cerulean eyes. “I think we can find Nateel. Leave it to me.”

“You? And what is it that you will do?” A calm smile drew itself over Rozalina’s features, as if things she had anticipated were all falling into place.

“Come with me, Cosette.” Archeme grabbed the arm of her childhood friend. “We can ask the clock!”

Don't worry too much about the next chapter--you'll still get to see Cosette--just through someone else's eyes. I also think this will be a great opportunity to shed some more light on a character who hasn't gotten the attention she deserves.



It might seem a little out of the blue, but we hinted at it ages ago, if you'll remember...



We know that Knale isn't an ordinary demon, she's something else as well...



It seemed natural to me at least that Knale would have a close hand in the start of the Renaissance empire, but perhaps it didn't come out that well in the writing... Her appearance in this chapter was meant to be a bit of a shock, but it certainly wasn't a contrivance--it's been planned for a long time. Do you have any suggestion about how I can "smooth out" her place in the original Renaissance Empire? I want it to be a surprise, but the kind of surprise that makes readers say "wow... I should have seen that one coming..."

This symphony will definitely reveal the fruition of her plans, but perhaps not their complete depth... By the way, did you vote her as your favorite DMO character? I am about to close the poll on the site, and Narshe is winning.

Now that we're at 3K hits, I should come up with another special section... Would you be interested in doing another Chorus Line?