Duke City — The Temple Courtyard
The marble courtyard still shimmered with the echoes of the vision. The wind was silent now, as if nature itself held its breath in reverence or fear. The unconscious Scarlet Raven lay still, barely twitching.
Amber Nois's eyes, sharp with its golden iris and twice as deep, did not waver from Priestess Kendra. The archmage's voice came low, like a tide pulling in power from the edge of the world.
> "Do tell," she said.
Her gaze was more than a command—it was a summoning.
Kendra swallowed, her hands tightening around the prayer beads on her waist. She felt the weight of something ancient pressing down upon her, something vast and irreversible.
She took in a breath.
Then another.
A long, slow exhale.
> "Huuuuuh…"
And finally, she began to speak.
> "About a year ago… or perhaps just half a year… time feels like a mist now—I remember it was after the festival of cleansing—our late Chief Priestess, Sarzi Uno, the gods bless her soul— received a prophecy."
She paused, her eyes distant.
> "No one really believed her."
Her voice broke, just slightly. Amber said nothing—she simply listened.
> "Not even us, the priestesses. We smiled, we bowed, we nodded… but in our hearts, we doubted. We believed she was grieving, or perhaps hallucinating in her mind, or misinterpreting what she saw. But still… we supported her. We stood by her side."
A breeze stirred the edge of Kendra's robes, but she didn't feel it.
> "The prophecy came shortly after a… bizarre event. The eighth prince of the empire, Josh Aratat—"
She hesitated on the name, tasting its significance now, as though speaking it gave it new power.
> "He was known as the empire's failure. Weak. Fragile. Couldn't wield a sword, couldn't draw energy, couldn't command even the lowest form of martial essence. They called him names. Even the palace guards whispered behind his back."
A look of quiet pain crossed her face.
> "Then, one day, far away in region 32, a man, labelled a thief, was dragged to the execution grounds. A traitor, they said. Josh stepped forward and offered himself in that man's place, invoking the rule of substitution. No tricks. No protection. He kneeled, bared his neck… and let the blade fall."
A hush fell around them, as though the memory itself cast a shadow.
> "Onlookers swore they saw his head roll… saw his body bleed into the dust."
Kendra's eyes flickered down to the unconscious man at their feet.
> "That very same day, in this region, region 1, lightning struck across the sky above the imperial palace—in the most bizarre of ways. Thunder shook the heavens, and a storm refused to pass. The emperor summoned our chief priestess to interpret the gods' message."
She drew a shaky breath.
> "When she emerged, she told us: 'The one they cast aside will return. He will slay the emperor, and rule in his place. The rejected will sit on the throne, cloaked in shadows and flame.'"
She looked up at Amber, voice trembling now with awe rather than fear.
> "In our minds— We laughed. We thought it grief. We thought it madness. Josh Aratat was dead, after all. How could a ghost rule the empire?"
She shook her head slowly.
> "But today… after seeing that face beneath the mask… I know."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
> "He is alive. He is the one. Josh Aratat is the Black Dragon."
There was a long silence.
Then Amber Nois smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
But with the slow, delighted grin of someone watching a long-forgotten prophecy fall neatly into place.
> "What a tale," she murmured. "The rejected prince… rising from disgrace to dominate an empire. It has all the makings of legend."
She turned her gaze to the horizon, as if already seeing the fires of revolution lighting the skies.
> "Now that I know his name, now that I know who wears the mask… oh, Kendra…" She gave a soft, amused exhale. "Things are about to become very exciting."
Kendra's voice was hesitant again.
> "Should we… should we go to him?"
But Amber slowly shook her head.
> "No," she said simply. "Not yet. When the time comes… the world will bring him to us."
Amber Nois's gaze sharpened, her voice dropping to a murmur that curled with tension.
> "One last question, Kendra…"
Her eyes locked on the priestess with an unsettling intensity.
> "How did your Chief Priestess… Sarzi Uno… die?"
The question landed like a stone dropped in still water.
Kendra flinched. Her eyes faltered. For a moment, she looked away, jaw tightening as she fought the tremor rising through her throat.
> "That… is a painful memory," she whispered, almost to herself.
A long silence followed. Then slowly, haltingly, she began.
> "She was summoned to the palace… after the rumours about the black dragon had started to spread. The emperor had questions about the Black Dragon. He didn't understand the message, and she… she went in good faith. She trusted in the sanity of the emperor and also was devoted to her position. Her vows."
Her hands clenched at her sides.
> "But the emperor… was not really in search of answers. That day, he was…" She paused, eyes filled with unshed tears and rage restrained by duty. "He was consumed by lust. Drunk on power."
> "He forced himself on her."
The words felt like blades, slicing through the air.
> "For a priestess to be defiled… it severs her connection to the divine. The visions fade. The voice of the gods goes silent. She becomes… ordinary. Empty."
Her voice cracked now, trembling.
> "She couldn't bear it. She couldn't live with the silence. With the weight of what had been taken from her. That very night, she drank poison laced with spiritbane root."
Kendra took in a breath like it hurt to breathe.
> "But before she died, she chanted. A curse—not of wrath, but of justice. Her words shook the temple walls. The sky turned dark over the palace. Every mirror in the capital cracked."
She paused, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
> "We haven't seen the effect since then… but we feel it. We know it wasn't empty."
Amber Nois didn't speak immediately.
She looked out over the horizon, lips curling into something dark—part knowing smile, part war-touched snarl. Her voice came low, almost reverent.
> "The curse is alive, Kendra."
Her tone dripped with conviction.
> "It has been growing since the moment she spoke it. Rooting itself in the veins of fate. It didn't fall on the emperor that day—it marked the one who would replace him. It strengthens Josh Aratat."
She turned, her eyes smoldering.
> "He will rise. He will cast down the emperor and trample his bloodline. His brothers, his sisters—anyone who refuses to kneel will be swept aside like dust in a storm. And the gods… the gods will not weep for them."
She paused, voice thick with disdain.
> "I hated that man before… but now I see. Even his wickedness was just a thread in the larger tapestry."
Her hand glowed briefly, a flicker of flame dancing in her palm.
> "And the one thread that unravels the empire… is Josh Aratat."
Then she stepped forward, lifting both hands, and began to chant.
The air thickened.
Energy coiled around her fingers like golden serpents, weaving symbols in the air. Kendra recognized some of the old tongue—sigils of summoning, foundation, permanence.
Magic laced the very bones of the earth.
And then, without warning, it rose—an entire mansion, no—a complex. A towering structure of obsidian stone, heartwood of El'dan city and sapphire windows burst into being, spreading outward like a blooming flower. Halls upon halls, corridors lit with hovering flames, banners bearing the old symbol of the Oradonian Order swayed into view.
The symbol of the Oradonian Order was impossible to miss—etched, carved, and seared into every archway, every doorframe, and every polished stone of the grand mansion that now stood where desolation once reigned.
A lone figure: a man cloaked in flowing robes, his arm raised high, clutching a wand that blazed with radiant light. The wand's glow was not mere decoration—it shimmered with enchantment, casting a soft gleam as though alive, as though the very spirit of the Order pulsed through it still.
The image seemed to follow the eye, a silent reminder in every hall and chamber that this place was sacred… reclaimed… reborn.
The legacy of the Oradonian Order had returned. And it would not be forgotten again.
On an arch above the massive gate, letters burned themselves into wood and iron:
Oradonian Mages' Base.
Kendra stared.
The desolate land that once cradled only silence and wind, and had only the temple, now pulsed with rebirth.
She took a slow step forward, her voice faint and half-dreaming.
> "Things are getting really… interesting."
Amber Nois simply smiled.