Heleion Archives

“So what do we know?” Just as the sun began to rise over the horizon, the group returned to the Nightingale, bringing their captives to the cell. The eight of them converged in the lounge area where Henrietta and Simhriolag mixed drinks for them while they stared at the spread out mosaic of parchments, documents with cryptic letters and strange glyphs.

“Well can be a hundred percent sure now she killed her husband.” Faenia said as she laid in the soft bed opposite to the box the others sat in, her upper body sloped thanks to the flock of large, velvety pillows, her face buried between the pearl white collars of her blouse as she stared at the various photographs taken by the gloating Ilsarei with madness in her once grotesque eyes.

“She also seems to be a former, reconditioned member of the Coven.” Astrydril paused as her eyes head further down the paper. “Though she went to great lengths to erase that fact, as I guess the latter isn’t true.”

“That explains her scarred visage.” Lyaldis commented grimly. “Wasn’t that just her heritage from distant daddy or mommy?” Selindrae asked.

“Not exactly. She was a former student of the academy, who consumed the concoction for at least 3 years before her expulsion after sacrificing her group of friends in some infernal ritual.” She halted for a second and looked somberly down. “No, this is actually the work of the Snow-Scaled Host. They were hit by them just as hard as we, and when they captured a few… well they prefer pain based torture.”

“And reinvigorated some old relations it seems.” Raabdeth said as she slid a photo of five figures draped in dark robes all wearing varyingly bizarre masks, standing around a circled pentagram. “And quickly gave them up as the two tried and executed for the murder were confirmed members of the Forsaken if I recall it correctly.” Selindrae added just as the drinks arrived.

“Though maybe not all as from the servants I managed to pry out she bought quite the few tons of Droymaugh Gas.” Tabiaroth said with a hoarse voice and still teary eyes. Droymaugh Gas itself was one of the strongest sleep inducing nerve agent produced through arcane alteration of vaporized chloroform, mostly amplifying the strength by it forces the victim to a short coma. In the Droymaugh Gas’s case, the length is around 2-3 hours.

“Was the reason we began to monitor her just before she hired you, those two and me.” Simhriolag said as she laid back, circulating her drink in the large wine glass.

“Was Unomnus a real person… just on a side note.” Simhriolag looked coldly at her while taking a sip. “Yes. She was a seeker not too well known, except for us as she colluded with shady organizations before I took her out.”

“This is interesting.” Lyaldis said as she finished deciphering one of the parchments. “Seems to be ancient Sikhritian.”

Selindrae looked inquisitively at her. “One of the distant predecessors of the former Sultanate. It is said their last ruler vanished out of existence after trying to ascend to godhood. Even his name was scraped off most tablets carved at the time.” Astrydril said after chugging down her drink.

“Why would Ilsarei have a cyphered piece of parchment on him?” Fania asked as she lifted the bottle of beer away from her lips.

“Well not on him, but on the ritual, he was attempting. And besides that, they also had in common the habit of turning people into golden statues.”  Lyaldis said while still reading the text. “I guess she has the same ambitions now.”

Henrietta looked pensive. “What does this ritual entail?”

“Well the recipe for this godhood according to the parchment includes a few hundred living people, a few tons of golds and the blood and heart of a godborn.”

Henrietta leaned over the table, her eyes frantically searching until she took the photo taken of the map carved onto the wall. “A few days ago a few tons of gold arrived to this base of ours sitting awfully close to her mansion at the Kumikill Highland. And I guess she has the personnel there for sacrifice, maybe even including her own.”

The others looked at her, then at each other as they all felt unanimously that she was right. “The question is where she gets her hands on a godborn?”

**

Ilsarei gazed down at the vast expanse of steep land segmented by serpentine chasms emanating the baying of streaming crystal water. Roads further painted the scenery, most thanks to the efforts of his deceased husbands’s successor in stately affairs meticulously arranged and regularly maintained, with the one of most interest to her leading to the walled base of the Black Roses a few hours away.

Between the chaotic arrangements of natural and artificial grid, blackish white spires of basalt arose like horns and spikes breaking through the hardened, glistening epidermis of mighty dragons. Crudely hewn hoshigawan moon glyphs adorned their tops, flowing with aethereal matter unseen to the naked eye.

The erudite – but also fearful – scholars of the heimrad theorized these were small nexus points of an ancient, forgotten spell sealing an even older evil beneath the land while others more rational and well-versed of the regions’ history simply conjectured that it was where the predecessor of the Black Rose coven converged for their rituals, and these marks belonged to Myelia.

Her body lightly trembled with excitement and the prospect of being on the cusp of ascension whilst she watched from her office as the assemblage of mauve, crimson and golden swept over the green, blue, white and silvery gray of the sloped vistas of the south eastern region of the Heimrad. Which included the focus of her gazing, the landing base of the Black Rose manned by both the Ground Host and the newly reformed Voidfarer host – formerly just the Skyguard – hidden in the rising row of weird mixture of willows, pine and birch trees planted by their more nature arcana oriented sorceresses of both branches.

The road itself built by the heimrad’s government disappeared in the thick expansion of nature, only appearing at the imposing, thick metal gates slid closed while two Drengriars vigilantly scoured the forests with their sharp eyes. Further in, large rows of hangars housed the newly manufactured magicraft vessels capable of traversing and withstanding the chaotic nature of the Void Between Worlds.

Then as the door opened Ilsarei’s hands slithered up to her large and multi-layered, pyramid shaped collars of her loosely flowing dress of twinned crimson and golden with metallic ring carved and gilded corset. Her dark luxuriant hair knitted tightly into three high buns in the back of her head while lush wall swept towards the rest of her narrow forehead.

“I’m finished.” He stated coldly with an assuring smile. “I packed the heart in a box with the six vials. One of my agents shall bring it with herself after the dinner.”

“Thank you, truly from the bottom of my heart.” Ilsarei said as she sat down no longer able to contain her overflowing joy. “Will you stay all the way through? I assure you the ritual shan’t reach the mansion.”

“I am afraid I can’t. Number one informed me of reforming of the Golden Dawn in the Yudao Penninsula.” He said with a faux gloom hanging over his handsomely contoured face. “Though I wish the best for you for tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Once I ascend, I’ll be a generous patron of the organization.” Three knocks impacted the door of her office and the two quickly rose. Ilsarei took a deep breath then followed after the eye-patched man.

**

After two knocks resounded in the sophisticated dining room of Ilsarei’s country side mansion. Decorative wallpaper of a rich shade of burgundy red bathed in the warm light of the chandelier ornated with crystalline glowstones directly above the deep chestnut colored table of Ranpoen Oak imported from the Hoshigawan Archipelago.

On it, the repast of the century lined up, roasted cyclops meat seasoned richly giving the meat a pinkish brown color, hydra sausage coated in liquified pepper and paprika and a few others including the dessert and the two bottles of 1200 year old wines.

“Ah the aperitif.” Ilsarei exclaimed softly as she stood up from the chair at the front facing the oaken door with gilded frame. “The famed sake of Kikoraoi!” Oyuun exclaimed as she noticed the distinct jade green bottle in a feathered metallic exoskeleton fitted onto it.

“Oh you shouldn’t have my Hertughiel!” The servant halted for a moment then when she noticed Ilsarei’s gaze walked first to Oyuun and poured one into her small ceramic glass, then she moved onto the two Skjaldmaeriths, Azahara a sraudornian with voluminous wavy hair of snow blonde locks and dark auburn brown roots, creole smooth skin, a narrow forehead and jawline, prominent wide cheeks and sensuous wide lips covered in a matte snow silver lipstick.

The other Heithril a petite snaelf an asymmetrical bob bearing the deep shade of ice with thick wall of bangs brimming with the shade of clean snow like her skin and the average triangular elven face with sharp features. Both of them clad in their recently redesigned coats.

A coat which thanks to its arcane nature fitted its asymmetrical silhouette to their figures, and consisting of a frontal piece pressured over magnetically to the chest covering the zipper and ornated with rows of spindle-shaped buttons and loops of snow silver. Even the waist belt embroidered with a coiling dragon and northern runes phased through seemingly the unevenly articulated part.

On the bottom part, the hemline was designed in a flared style trimmed in snow silvery liquid palladium like the peculiar cheek high open collars on the top which were roughly resembled spirals, which as they coiled around the vivid amethyst collars of sharp triangular contours, the left side gradually lessened in height and seemingly transformed into the silken cloak draped over their shoulders while on the other side, a tasseled epaulet of the same shade rested.

The sleeve themselves bore the Black Roses’ patch magnetically welted on and surrounded by draconic claw mark shaped pins similarly attached and signaling their higher stature within the already high rank.

Both Skjaldmaeriths stared suspiciously at Ilsarei as they sensed the faint waft of mana pouring from her arcane point lingering in her head. The silvery light of the moon shone onto their dignified, enticing forms stiffened even as the servants brought the expensive bottle of Kikoraoi to the table and poured for each.

“What is the occasion?” Oyuun asked oblivious to the illusion cast onto Ilsarei’s face.

“Nothing special, just wanted to open this one up.” Ilsarei said nonchalantly as she slowly rose with her filled cup in hand raised forward. “Just to the exciting future that lay ahead of us. I want to thank the erudite artificers of your Order for their invention capable of traversing the void resting beyond the sky.” Her half-blooded dark elven benefactor followed in her steps and rose raising his own glass, then the three Black Roses followed, the two Skjaldmaeriths a bit hesitant, then they all quickly chugged their drinks.

“And to my ascension.” Then three thuds followed as Oyuun and her bodyguards slumped back into their antique chairs with elevated, cushioned back unconscious. “Well, let’s not waste these good food.” Ilsarei and her benefactor smiling affably sat back down and began the lavish dinner whilst the servants grabbed the three damsels in deep sleep and carried them out like sacks of potatoes.

**

“Nothing noteworthy here. Just another uneventful night. Over.” Chlonyss lifted her finger tips from her light bluish temple hidden behind the heavy jungle of pale blonde hair she possessed and which end flocked into a long and high ponytail. At the front over her narrow elven forehead, two groups of locks swept east and west while the third, smaller pillar in the center curved like a crescent.

Out of her habit she stood under the dim shadows of the trees planted by her Sisters attuned to the nature more than her, and enjoyed the cold breeze of air which her high collared raven black dragonid leather and aetherna silken uniform collected and converted into a temperate one within their confines.

Though as she stood still, slowly rotating while the wind breezed through her metallic silken cloak growing forth the pyramid baseline of her coats’ collar, tenderly battering against the milk smooth leathery surface, her golden eyes – the last remnants of her half-elven days – wandered across the steep surroundings of the forest garnished with grayish stones covered in thick, patchy moss of green and blue.

“Or maybe not.” She murmured to herself as she reached for the hilt of her sword resting in the sheath attached to her pouched dragonid leather pants tightly kissing her delicate, slenderly muscled legs. The right corner of her wide, tantalizing blue lips curved ever so slightly at the faint echo of a twig breaking, clearly under the weight of a foot.

Her hand remained on her sword, ready to be drawn, as she walked across the small distance. At the narrow trunk covered in coiling vines and shrubbery, she kept her distance while expanding her sight after not seeing beast or folk hiding in the shadows of the night, then her golden pupils lit up for a moment as she searched for any sign of mana may have been left behind by spells thought up to erase once’s presence.

Chlonyss slowly turned a circle, searching for faint sights while her now properly elven ears beset with three silver rings with an iridescent lesser tint twitched as she sharpened her ears – both naturally and magically – surveying the surroundings, patiently waiting for the secretive to make a mistake.

Though by the time she picked up on the sound of approaching footsteps, it was too late and she could only emit a faint, muffled yelp as a hand clasped over her mouth and nose while the other pressed its fingers against her central curving pillar of locks, jolting her with enervating sparks of lightning. Her yelp travelled not far as the forest seemed to swallow it whilst she slumped into the soft bosom of her captor, Kiri.

**

Sitting amongst the embrace of the trees was a small shack in the western parcel of the forest surrounding the Black Roses’ landing base. A shack built centuries ago by Hersith Kaguyari’s predecessor who first established the eastern branch when she returned home to the Hoshigawan Archipelago.

It simply served for her as weekend retreat amongst the steeped land of the region where she wandered amongst the protruding stones engraved with the strange, ancient glyphs of her people. Then one day during her trips to the stones she disappeared without a trace, leading to her then right hand to ascend to her post. Many thought that she was assassinated either by Kaguyari herself or by some assassin hired by the cult she was combating in the archipelago.

In the present day, the shack serves more as a guard post after the discovery of the vast underground system built possibly by Kaguyari’s predecessor, stretching far under the landing base to the point that duct connect down filtering the heavy, cold air while also acting as an escape route for the higher ranked personnel.

Ollarha, a volvaeth of naelfrith kin blessed with a hourglass body painted a darker shade of violet sat in the northern room repurposed into a small library was one of the few besides Chlonyss assigned to guard duty in the shack they often speculate to be haunted by the late Hersith.

Her body was draped fully in the combination of her aetherna satin blouse with boreal blue collars encompassing her neck while folded into its sharply contoured triangular shape, cuffs and hemline. On top of it, the newly introduced Kunningrieth Type-I long coat flowed seamlessly as she sat straightly in the cushioned sofa near the window.

The Kunningrieth Type-I coat of the volvaeths’ was an elvish duffle coat redesigned with the preferred elvish angularity and asymmetry when it came to its dark, milk smooth leathery silhouette, decorative metallic toggle fastening stretched over the veiling panel gently bent over the straight zipper line reaching the base of the open neck reshaped to resemble an open tome wits raven black cover and snow silvery aetherna satin pages spread out with wavy edges onto the shoulder while the boreal blouse collars reach down at the third uppermost layer.

The simply slanting shoulder like with most other ranks possessed the rectangular straps welted to the pleated leather surface close to the collar. At the waist, the belt for the volvaeths was a band type with four lotus rose shaped buttons stacked into a line.

Ollarha’s listless, dashing face kept to the grimoire until she heard a thud coming from the front porch of the shack where the earthen toned wood elf drengriar assigned under her kept watch over the darkened woods. The phantasmal hand holding the book by its hard cover quickly hovered to the shelf facing her and closed it before placing it back.

The floor creaked under the flat tips of her dragonid leather high heels reaching up to her knees. At the door she halted for a moment and closed down her left eye under the curving locks covering part of her visage and a hovering ghastly eye appeared in the straight corridor.

She stayed silent for several moments, then conjured an aethereal mask over her wide, plump lips as the front door opened momentarily, letting the oval grenade to roll on the floor before a click rang through the small edifice and a colorless mist arose from it.

The conjured mask proved of little help as she felt the beckoning of dreams, putting weights on her lids which she struggled greatly to keep open, while she stumbled in circles in the small room, pushing the two small tables over and even hit the shelf facing the door before she collapsed onto the large crimson carpet on her back, her hands folded over her chest.

“Clear.” Kiri said as she entered wearing a tight leather bodysuit coated in vhalex and attached with drauclar plates which acted a second layer of epidermis as the pieces glued to her thighs bent with equally curvature. Her face hidden beneath a hoshigawan Koh mask, an ivory piece resembling a haunting toddler’s face with the left eyes encircled by black tint, the rosebud, prominent lips brimmed with a deep crimson shade.

Whilst she inspected the pockets of the unconscious volvaeth, her subordinates dressed the same way dragged the wood elf blessed with a smooth epidermis as dark as the earth, hair long and wavy in the shade of autumnal grass.

They placed the two in a sitting position, then Kiri and a shorter agent with elven eyes peeking from behind the eyeholes of their mask procured the golden rolls of tape painted with strange runes at measured intervals began to secure the two together with their wrists resting bound together over their laps. Before they sealed the mouth of the two Black Roses, they placed golden pebbles engraved with the ancient, southern runes with both upon insertion flew and attached to the velums.

“Seems it stuck. Good.” Kiri whispered after the two stared into the mouths of the two. With this confirmed, they tore a wide strip off from the roll and swiftly covered their lips and cheeks and watched for a short moment as the two groaned while the tape tightened onto their smooth skin, bulging their lips beneath the arcane marks painted on the glossy and gilded surface.

**

“N'm crnhm nmhrhnmnh..” Maia cursed whisperingly into her adhesive gag while her tongue fiddled with the engraved golden pebble glued to her velum. Her arms ached from the pain resulted from them bent backwards and stacked onto each other, forced to remain in that numbing position by the fifteen layers of golden sealing tape that sapped her mana from the arcane points of her body in addition.

Her choppy, layered pale cherry hair pressed against her ears of almost elven contours as the silken muffle scarf of also golden tint pushed them with quite the force. She could see nothing but still felt the cold wall of the same stone protruding forth the earth of the steeple land above. Heard the soft leathery creaks of her and her subordinate drengriars’ Agaevarh Type-I coat’s pressing against each other as she lightly squirmed while secured excessively with the tape.

And she felt the soothingly cold caress of her crimson collars as she pretended to be asleep thanks to the stamina draining of the bindings while she scratched her bound arms against the jagged surface behind her back. With little to no success.

Though she also listened to Kiri and her own subordinates moving around, their steps lightly echoing in the center of the circular chamber, paired with the occasional sound of metal carefully placed onto the ground followed by the stormy roar of magical particles dancing in the cavernous filtered air.

Silence nested for a few short moments, then six clicks as the metallic spider legs of the conjured device dug into the floor then rose with a series of whirs, its funnel open top stared at the long tunnel leading up to the central edifice of the landing base. Maia gulped as a chill ran through her spine.