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 Posted: Wed Oct 22, 2025 8:33 pm
Keesh lay awake, listening to the soft autumn rain on the roof, unable to fall back to sleep. It was almost Halloween, and while Destiny City wasn't far enough north to get more than the occasional snowfall, it would still soon start getting cold enough for the possibility of snow on the right chilly night. As they so often did, the seasons chased each other, circling round and round in a seemingly endless, mostly rhythmic cycle.
It would probably help to fall back to sleep if she didn't have thoughts chasing each other in her mind as the seasons pursued each other. The Green Chapel of Earth. She was its long-lost knight. Decked out all in greens and golds, bearing a holly branch. She knew inside, in a way that Khaz had been able to confirm, that knights had their own place they drew power from, same as senshi, and that they were called Wonders. What was hers like? Khaz had said he'd never been to one, and Yasmeen hadn't done much lately on the Powered side of things. So neither of them had any idea, except that a knight's Wonder was probably smaller than a planet.
The Green Chapel. It called to mind a lot of greenery, something primal and ancient. The holly spoke to either an evergreen state, or maybe an almost winter solstice vibe, almost certainly forest-y. She'd seen photos of the redwood forests in California, and some other particularly ancient forests that were apparently also called temperate rainforests (something she hadn't even known existed), and these forests had an almost cathedral-esque look to them. Maybe something like that?
Keesh sighed and sat up. It was increasingly clear she wasn't going to get any more sleep like this.
Pulling her little branch from where she'd hidden it in subspace, Keesh concentrated, letting the feeling of leaves wrapping themselves around her pass, with green sparkles fading away into the darkness as she transformed. Without even really thinking about it, Green Chapel had decided to go to her Wonder...which was presumably on Earth, but something told her it wouldn't be accessible by just using regular mortal transportation to get there. Sure, the place might still exist, but without whatever made a knight's Wonder a Wonder.
Words filled her mind, begging to be spoken. She shrugged. Worth a try.
"I pledge my life and loyalty to Earth, and to the Green Chapel!
I humbly request your aid, so that in return I may give you mine!" she whispered fiercely, to avoid waking anyone else up.
In a flash of light, she wasn't seated on her bed, but somewhere else, under a shining hunter's harvest moon. Something rather harder than the soft mattress.
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Posted: Wed Oct 22, 2025 8:48 pm
Green Chapel whipped her head around, her wheel-of-the-year earrings bumping against her neck and jaw. As near as she could tell, she was in the middle of a forest in the later hours of the night, with dawn starting to tint the sky. An autumn predawn, cold and misty. A few hours earlier, and it would have been an almost unreasonably perfect autumn night. What rested beneath her were the mossy remains of what appeared to be a chair of a medieval style.
Gingerly standing up, she couldn't make out much in the mist and late moonlight, well, no, not as much as she'd be able to make out in the day, particularly once this mist cleared. But what it looked like was the great hall of a medieval manor in the middle of the forest, where the forest had taken over. No. That wasn't technically correct. It looked like the forest had been incorporated into the manor. What...? How...?
The more she looked around, the more she could feel she was right. This was the Green Chapel, and the Green Chapel was a manor that was incorporated into the forest in a way that only belonged in fantasy stories, and in ways the movies could never quite capture. Furniture? Yes, in mossy planks slowly rotting into the forest floor, being reclaimed by nature. There was a table, perhaps the high table, in front of her. Stepping around the mass of the former high table, she found herself taking a step that was further down than the one before. A dais? Yes. Maybe. And as that foot started to bear the weight of her body so the other foot could follow, she heard a twig snap under her boot.
Somewhere in the gloom, a grouchy, groggy voice called out, "Whatever it is you are doing in here, it is neither welcomed, nor desired. Nay, it is not even a fruitful errand, for you'll find nothing to pilfer here."
Green Chapel whipped her head around, trying to find the source of the voice--male, not much older than her and Khaz--but saw no one.
At least, not at first.
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Posted: Thu Oct 23, 2025 4:43 am
From a balcony formed by boughs of one of the trees that seemed to form the walls, a spectral figure appeared. He was dressed in green with a little bit of gold, marked by the Wheel of the Earth, all in a very medieval style. His long curls were golden, and his eyes were green, the green of limes, rather than of apples. He disappeared from the balcony, and reappeared coming down a series of steps around the trunk of the tree into the hall. Then he seemed to see her rather more clearly than he probably had before.
"You--thou art not some common thief, art thou?" he asked, his tone changing, his pace slowing from an angry storming to a shocked stumble. He paused and began looking her up and down, focusing mostly on the parts of her skin he could see.
For her part, Green Chapel found herself noticing that he seemed to have little substance, and was, in fact, see-through. Was this man in the garb of an Earth knight dead? What was he doing here? Slowly, she responded, "No. No, I'm not. I'm Green Chapel of Earth, and I came to see the Wonder. I Powered up for the first time a couple weeks ago."
His lime eyes were wide with shock as he continued regarding her. "Thou art Green Chapel?" His mouth worked a few times, and it seemed several things were being born and dying on his lips before he finally spoke. He straightened up, and swept her a bow. "I apologize for my rudeness. I am Sylvain de Lyons, also known as Green Chapel of Earth. Tell me, child, what year is it, what thy proper name is, and how fares the Kingdom of Earth and Silver Millennium?"
She could still see some questions she rather suspected she wasn't going to like in his lime green eyes, but at least he wasn't leading with those, and was being outwardly courteous, so it would behoove her to answer with the same courtesy. "My name is Keisha Lyon, and it is 2025. I don't know what you mean by the 'Kingdom of Earth', unless you mean the history books left out that Earth was once unified under one ruler the way it's sounding like other planets were, and I have never once heard of anything called Silver Millennium."
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Posted: Thu Oct 23, 2025 5:09 am
A light seemed to die in Sylvain's lime eyes, replaced by a dawning horror. "Pardon the interruption, but didst thou say it was the year 2025?" he demanded hoarsely, falling into the remains of one of the chairs that lined one of the lower tables, before falling through said chair, confirming her anxiety that the man she was speaking to was, in fact, very dead, and very much a ghost. "I have been asleep in the arms of the Green Chapel for a thousand years?"
Green Chapel shrugged uncertainly. "Honestly, I don't know my cosmic history, and my cousins haven't gotten that far in piecing things together, so, I'm very sorry, I honestly don't know. Yes? I guess? But, yes, it is the autumn of 2025, at least in the Northern Hemisphere, almost Halloween."
The ghost seemed to be trying to parse all of this. "'Tis almost All Hallows' Eve of 2025," he shuddered. Then he looked up, seeming to focus on Green Chapel with an alarming intensity. "Thou didst say thy family name was 'Lyon', didst thou?" he asked. "Did they give thee thy golden locks and eyes of apple-green?" he almost seemed to demand.
Green Chapel felt a bit creeped out by this ghost--Sylvain--but he seemed to be working through an awful lot of emotions right now. "Ummm, yeah, I got my eye and hair color from my dad, and he got it from his dad, and so on and so forth. Dad says there's a family legend that his line inherited those colors from a French or Spanish ancestor, and that the whole family's had those colors since forever. My mom's also got green eyes, but they're a bluish shade of green, more like the sea, less like leaves or fruit."
Sylvain considered this for a moment. "Yea, now that I look at thee, I canst see in thee some of the features of my sister. We lived in Lyon, in the lands of the Franks, though stories said we had not always lived there, either, that we had moved considerably over the centuries," he said, almost dreamily, like he was trying to piece things together. "She told me she had become engaged to a knight in Leon, in the former Roman colony of Hispania. When Silver Millennium burned and Beryl led the revolt, I begged our family to join my sister in Hispania, hide themselves away where any clever knave would not look for the line of the Green Chapel, and would not quash it. They must have survived. I have heard of it. When there is no trained heir or heiress, when no proper candidate can be trained at the academy, sometimes, the Code will select a successor to the role from amongst the living descendants. I wouldst stake my life, had I any, on thou being my sister's descendant, Keisha Lyon, with the summer's gold in thine hair, and the apple's green in thine eyes."
She began to feel a strange connection to Sylvain, like he was a long-lost, half-mad uncle, begin to blossom in her chest. He just needed some therapy and--
"I must admit, however, that the color of thine skin gave me pause."
Aaannnd he was a little bit racist. Figured. She should have expected that. The feeling of familial connection died away. Long-lost, half-mad racist uncle. Joy.
"Sooo...I'm guessing you died, and in death are now tied to the Wonder. Do you have any idea how long you're to be tied here?" she asked, hoping she wouldn't have to stay anywhere near him if he proved to be a judgy jerk.
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Posted: Thu Oct 23, 2025 5:35 am
Sylvain replied thoughtfully, "Yea, I remember dying. Since I am still here, my starseed did not return to the Galaxy Cauldron as it should. Thou art right. How odd. When a person perishes, their starseed always returns to the Galaxy Cauldron to be born anew, though...I had heard...I had heard that there are occasionally some knights who are not so swiftly reborn, who linger on in this life beyond their death, due to some unfinished...business...." He trailed off, a look of horror dawning in his eyes. He raised his eyes to her. "Never mind the Silver Millennium, and the Earth. How much of the cosmos was destroyed?" he demanded.
Green Chapel blinked. "I don't--"
"How many worlds died?!" he almost shouted, the curling mist muffling the sound a little bit.
Green Chapel's eyes met his, and she could tell he didn't want to hear it, didn't want to believe it.
"Ummm, I think almost everyone died. According to my cousin, aside from a couple worlds, a handful of senshi, and most of the Earth, everyone died. Earth is apparently one of the few planetary bodies that stayed habitable and populated. He says it sounds like the entire universe collapsed around the same time, and most of the universe wound up in the Galaxy Cauldron."
Faint, ghostly tears appeared on Sylvain's face. "Everyone I knew and loved has almost certainly gone into the Galaxy Cauldron, except perhaps some of those I had met during my time at the Knights Academy on Earth, though some of those who have not gone to the Galaxy Cauldron may be those assigned to other planets," he said faintly. "But the Galaxy Cauldron still functions?" he demanded softly.
"I think so. Both of my cousins are senshi who died back then. Neither of them remembers how it happened, just that it did," she confirmed.
Sylvain nodded, slowly getting to his feet. "Then, even if I can never again gaze upon the faces I cared for, I can at least continue on in the hope that their starseeds made it safely to the Galaxy Cauldron. And, more importantly, I can train thee so thou wilt not go to the Galaxy Cauldron before thy time. For the foes who brought down the cosmos are almost of a certainty still afoot, and there can perhaps never again be enough time to train a knight or senshi for all of the battles ahead. Tell me, how young are the youngest senshi?"
Green Chapel shrugged uncertainly. "I know my youngest cousin is a chibi senshi, and she Powered up earlier this year, back when she was eight--"
"Chibi senshi stand again? On the front lines?" he demanded, horror painting his tones. "Of a surety, the Galaxy Cauldron would neither be so desperate, nor so cruel, as to send the youngest to the front lines."
"Yeeeaaahhh, I don't like it, either, but her older brother and I have agreed that she's not going on patrols or anything alone if either of us can help it, not until she's capable of defending herself, even though she's already dusted her first youma."
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Posted: Thu Oct 23, 2025 10:05 am
Sylvain stared at her. "Presumably, thou doth not mean she utterly destroyed a youma, as that would imply she were already a princess, and those are quite rare. But defeating a youma, even for a short time, is still noble and valiant. I have nothing but praise for the mettle of thy cousin. But it does little to suggest that the situation is any less dire." He stood up, straightening stiffly.
"The cosmos appears to have fallen to chaos, and that means but a few things, very few of them any good. Of old, knights were trained at the Knight Academy on Earth, regardless of their posting, unless a suitable relative could be found, then they would train directly under the person they would succeed. Given thy circumstances, I have excellent reason to believe that the Knight Academy is long since gone, with perhaps none alive who remember going through its training, simply scattered shades such as I, as well as the occasional text in languages now dead and gone. As such, thou canst not rely on the Academy, thine only guideposts will be other knights and myself," he stated, placing a hand on his chest. "And I do not promise to be a worthy instructor, merely perhaps one of the most experienced thou canst find, and with little else to do, but instruct thee." He sighed and sagged, running a hand through his ghostly locks. "As for the Green Chapel...it is clearly in a state of poor repair, needing a devoted hand from amongst the living to breathe life back into it. And I pray thou wilst not come to hate it, for, as its knight progresses, the Chapel can render itself quite difficult to love."
Green Chapel blinked owlishly at Sylvain, parsing what he was saying. "There's something you're not telling me about the nature of the Green Chapel, isn't there?" He seemed willing enough to help, but it sounded like he wasn't terribly fond of this place. And, despite how weedy and overgrown and mossy it looked, the manor appeared to be quite beautiful as it slowly began to lighten toward dawn. What could he possibly find that made him concerned about her feelings for the Green Chapel?
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Posted: Thu Oct 23, 2025 10:33 am
Sylvain regarded her for a moment before beckoning for her to follow him. "Thou mayst see. Thou mayst wish to unsee afterward. And I am sorry for thy revelation."
She followed him through a gap between the trunks of two trees, under a gap formed by two fallen trees propped against each other to prevent either's collapse to the ground and into...a massive space, open, regular, with a central pathway and many other smaller ones radiating away from the center toward smaller open spots along the periphery (each one holding a clearly suffering tree, each one a separate species), each of which led between carpets of tiny forest flowers she didn't know the name of, in all the colors she could think of, all in odd numbers of petals. Between the trunks of redwood trees grew thickets of ferns and horsetail reeds, bright shades of green against the shaggy reddish bark. The trees' branches laced together high, high above the ground, too high to reach without aid. At the center of the space stood a truly massive stump, cracked and weathered, its cracks filled with fallen needles and spiderwebs, its heavily burled roots extending forth small green sprouts, almost forming a bright green corona around it, so bright, brighter and purer a tone than the grass, much closer to the leaves of maples in summer.
Green Chapel's breath bounced backward as she surveilled what must be the titular Green Chapel, stately even in its state of overgrowth with moss and plants clearly growing out of the regular pattern of the space. A chapel it was named, but it seemed shaped more like a naturally occurring small basilica with all the splendor of a cathedral. It was difficult to class this space in terms of proper temple, but it did feel like a temple to nature itself, particularly the forest as a whole.
Ahead, Sylvain had stopped at the stump, and Green Chapel hurried to catch up to him. Upon closer inspection, the stump was scored with regular cuts, as though made by a blade chopping through from above, never deep, just scores, layered atop one another. Sylvain gazed at it grimly. "Welcome to the Green Chapel, a place of trial and promise. Within it, 'ere I died, I left some key belongings inside, including the signet ring. As with everything of the Chapel, I do not vouchsafe the risks of what I ask, but know that I do not ask lightly." He turned to face her. "Reach into the stump and retrieve the signet, for it will allow communication with other knights."
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Posted: Thu Oct 23, 2025 10:44 am
Again. The sense that there was something Sylvain wasn't telling her. Probably a lot. He seemed to be stringing her along...unless he simply wasn't comfortable having that conversation yet. Which worried her. But it was so quiet and peaceful here. Not even any bugs--
Something hit her. It was quiet in the Green Chapel. Too quiet. The same sort of silence that reigned over Aquitania. No birdsong, despite the early hour. No buzz of insects, nocturnal or diurnal or crepuscular. The Chapel was deadly silent.
What was Sylvain worried about? His eyes were trained on a crevice filled to the brim with spiderwebs, and his face looked drawn with anxiety. Ohhh. Was he worried about some species of spider having built a nest in the crevice where he'd stashed the ring? Was it a particularly deadly one?
But it was silent. The kind of silence that implied no animals, none at all, whatsoever.
Taking a deep breath, she cast about for a stick that would fit in the crevice for a moment (it didn't seem like a wise idea to use her little holly branch, because if there was a particularly vicious spider in there, feeding it her weapon seemed like a Bad Idea), and finally found one. Returning to the stump, she reached into the crevice, and brushed her twig around, feeling for anything, anything at all. As he watched, Sylvain nodded almost imperceptibly, seeming to approve of her cautious approach to the process.
Inside the crevice, she felt nothing. Not the grab of a hungry and aggressive arachnid, not the awkward, rolling motion of a ring, either. She frowned and moved around some more, before removing a stick that had succeeded in removing all of the webbing, had dislodged the chitinous remains of a distressingly large spider, and looked rather like cotton candy if the candy was made of spider silk.
But no ring came with it.
"Ummm, hate to break it to you, Sylvain, but the ring's not there. There's not even a spider in there anymore. I don't think there's any animals left in this forest."
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Posted: Thu Oct 23, 2025 11:18 am
Sylvain stared at her in shock and mounting horror. He then jammed his spectral hand, followed by his own head, into the crack, looking about desperately, before his head popped free again. "It's gone. The ring is gone." He looked up at her with an expression of guilt, remorse, shame. "I am so sorry, but the ring has been lost, and thou shalt have to rely on other modes of communication."
Green Chapel shrugged. She'd put her cell phone in subspace after charging it last night, since it seemed to be a safe spot for valuables, and was glad she'd brought it with her. Popping it out, she fired it up...and found she had no signal. Well. That was...unfortunate, but none of them had been able to get any signal on her cousins' homeworlds, maybe the Wonders of Earth were similarly cut off from modernity. Which sucked, but at least she could show him the phone's functions. The teenager tapped her way to her contacts list, and held out the phone to show him.
Sylvain peered at the screen, reaching out to touch it with an incorporeal hand.
Green Chapel operated the screen for him, and his face lit up with relief.
"It looks a bit like Mauvian technology, so 'twould appear that thou hast recourse for communications. But I would advise we seek the ring as soon as may be."
"What did it look like?" she asked curiously.
"Gold, pure and heavy--'twas a simple band with a flattened top, enameled with emerald-colored glass in the pattern of the Wheel of Earth, formed out of four tree trunks with interwoven roots and branches, simple, but beautiful in its execution. To the sides, holly leaves and berries decorated the sides where they narrowed to form the band," he moaned, looking distraught. "Some errant knave has stolen one of the treasures of the Chapel, and a precious aid to thy cause. I am so sorry, as I have clearly proven a poor keeper of the Chapel's treasures," he apologized with true regret.
"Can anybody else use it?"
"No. Its powers are thine, and thine alone. All knights have their own, so 'tis fruitless to steal another's signet."
Green Chapel nodded thoughtfully. "Guess we'll just have to look for it. Is there any chance it was taken by a family member for safekeeping?"
Sylvain considered this. "Mayhap. If so, it should be in the hands of a relative, living or dead. Art thou still in Europe?"
Green Chapel shook her head. "No, France and Spain are on the other side of the Atlantic." She left out that it was a plane flight, as that wasn't a necessary detail. Living or dead...if it wasn't in Louisiana with her father's side of the family, it could be in a family grave in Spain or France. If push came to shove, she could always beg her mother to let her tag along to an overseas concert and then engage in some judicious graverobbing. Which the teenager really, really hoped wasn't necessary. Worse, if the ring had been with her father's distant relatives who supposedly got on the wrong end of Madame Guillotine during the French Revolution, there was no telling what had become of it.
And she did not look forward to the distinct possibility that she'd have to steal from the living.
"I'll ask my dad, see if one of our relatives in New Orleans has seen a ring like that in the family heirlooms. It could be that it's right under our noses," she said soothingly, wishing she felt as confident as she sounded.
Sylvain nodded mournfully. "I hope thou art right, and 'tis that simple." He sighed. "I think thou hast enough of ill to consider, and I will save the nature of the Chapel for another time, but I beg of thee, ask thine relatives, see if there is aught to be learned of the fate of the signet."
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