Chapter 1- Tragic

The stepping stones had never lead to a further destination than the fortieth. Forty stepping stones altogether yet the last only lead to a dead end. Even through all of her efforts to jump every forty to ensure she would not slip and fall into the claws of darkness, it would always end. What there was she could do next was not known.

For the ninth time, she had made it successfully to the fortieth stone. However, she had no idea what would happen if she were to fall off. She thought to herself of what to do until she turned to see someone else jump on the stones. Her first instinct pleaded her to be on her guard. After recognizing this person’s face, she relaxed. Before she was about to call out his name, he seemed to have jumped through her and leaped towards another stone. A stone she could not see.

A stone that was not suppose to be there and she cannot see. She observed to where he jumped and landed and wanted to follow after him. She called his name but he did not respond. Of course, it did not strike her as odd that he did not respond. The only initiative response was an invitation to run after him.

The moment she leaped proved to be a regretful mistake. There was no visible stone as she began a long free fall into the darkness.

Her consciousness fell into her body as her mind was shaken awake. Blue eyes were forced open to find the plain, vanilla white ceiling staring back vividly.

Yet, it was classified as another cryptic dream. She was always aware of the fact that the gift of foresight would never lead to predictions of fixing or challenging future. They were actually quite the opposite where many books, scriptures, and literature were dedicated to the mysterious supernatural that she among others had. Not even she can understand the meanings of the dreams given. It was human interpretation that would break the code.

The old grandfather clock she met in the hallway read an early five in the morning. The young woman gave a slightly exaggerated yawn and followed out the door.

A little bit of the luscious town’s set-up would tell of the handsomely set architecture built by only the best artisans. The town lead to the center where the most beautiful structure stood above the others. The beautiful shrine of Ciel stood white and pure that could remind the reader of the great Athens. The lovely bells that rang like the reader’s imagination of the great cathedrals, the doves that encircled the temple building.

Some well-respected people of this time regarded it as what would stand upon the entrance to the heavens of Ciel. The top of the structure held the great statue of the Goddess revered by Her loyal followers. The hands are outstretched as if to grasp the treasure of life as four more statues that surround Her are angels that guard Her name. Each of them are the four most famous Adonai, the Goddess’s descendants who have blessed and protected Her people.

Erif walked silently towards the beautiful temple and to pass the water fountain until a person she recognized was sitting there. He appeared to be in a dream-like state for he merely found great, remote interest at the ground. His golden, sun-colored hair fell over his face and a longer part of hair dangled from the right of his face, a traditional Serathian mark for its blessed natives. His eyes were of the Serathian blue that spoke of his heritage here. The strong jaw line of his face was very flattering to the rest of his aesthetic shape. The dark clothes he wore made her sigh for it seemed to place him in a direct contrast of the beautiful, white, peaceful town.

“Aoma Dsuka.” Erif called mildly. The young man looked up and smiled at her arrival.

“My apologies, Erif. You know me, daydreaming as usual. What wakes you so early in the morning?”

“That would be my question.” She smiled. Like Aoma, she had the traditional lock of hair that hung from the right of her face. Because of her gender role, it was obvious that the locks of hair were strung to be much fancier. Her light autumn, red hair and Serathian blue eyes spoke of her heritage that lied within the same country.

“You know me well.” He merely shook his head.

“You need a woman in your life. Sygma has told you that many times already. You are not becoming any younger.”

“I am only twenty-two, Erif. I have many more years to search.” Aoma insisted. The young priestess could only pretend to agree. The boy she had grown up with since she was three, remained to this day, entirely oblivious of the large female population who want to bear his children. “It is depressing when I search. I do not understand them at all.”

The young woman was not sure whether to laugh or to tease him but instead gave a polite smile and nodded.

“The Ciel festival is today. Are you prepared?”

“Yes, I am.” A much lighter tone fell into place. “It is really too bad you cannot spend your time there.”

“Religion is not for me. We can go have dinner after the festival is over?”

“Yes. That will be fine.” Erif waved. “I will see you afterwards.” The priestess resumed her trip towards the temple. A feeling of anxiety began to brew within her. Today would be the five-hundredth anniversary of the founding of the Ciel religion. Over the last fifty years, the people and the town had thwarted over sixty terrorist-related plots of disrupting the ceremonies.

By the time she had arrived at the shrine, she was one of the last. Erif met amongst other priestesses in a private dressing room where she began to remove the ordinary, casual garments and replaced with the Ciel attire.

The flowing garment swayed like a broom against the smooth stone. A mask covered half of her face which seemed to serve somewhere between the cross of a decorative face or a shield of a helm. Its uses were guessed to be demonic since it held mystical powers that are only available to the priestesses of the Ciel and some believed the 'mask' was used to conceal the majority of their face to dedicate their servitude to the religion of Ciel. The mask extended to flow into knits of a black and silver cloth that housed the priestess's hair. The white shades that faded to a light, pear green as it reached to the tips of the garment formed a dress. Something of the shapes of the sleeves and the broom patterns of the dress would symbolize the beauty of the flower, the symbol of Ciel.

Then, she began to head into the chambers to give light for the open bowls of ash.

It was a cool environment with the perception of a comforting, warm, and royal design that could only suit such a beautiful temple of Ciel. The clean swipe reflection of the marble floor, the warm flicker of the fire, the white artistic and statues that extended their arms, wings, and garments like water compliment the serene atmosphere to the center statue that praised the ordinary Cielist.

She stopped against a wide bowl that a statue of a mermaid held and the priestess carefully let the fire fall gently into the center of the bowl before quickly removing her arms away from the sudden burst of dancing flames. Soon, another ball of colorless fire was floating above her right hand.

Before she could continue, two other women dressed very much alike hurried to the young woman that had lit a second and third bowl. All appeared to be of similar height.

"The Elder has wondered where you were."

"I apologize." The priestess nodded. "I woke up late."

“No, I saw you talking to Aoma this morning.” The other smiled. “Not that that was a sin. As long as it was Aoma.” The taller ignored her.

“Ciel is to put the religion before yourself. It is why you are here." The leader of the two reminded. "You missed the meeting this morning. The town feast will be held at two o' clock. We will receive a briefing at twelve before we can take our break and return at one-thirty."

"We meet in the town square for a short fifteen minute meeting and have everything prepared. Rown, Low, and Pin will be with you so find them if you are confused." The two priestesses left quickly leaving her to fill up the other nine bowls with fire.

It had been the fifth time she was late in two weeks. Although she woke up feeling energetic this morning, the anxiety of the ceremony and the pressure of the recent, grueling courses of training required to guard the town against fanatical and zealous groups of Kaveri and Surya was wearing on her. Clans like they become smarter and smarter each year and the priestesses and the priests must continuously be trained to keep up with the evolving times.

Setting the fire in the next two, left her to think of what to do for the hour and a half to take relief from. The yearly feast always gave her a deep headache. It was the celebration of the founding of the church of Ciel and its believers. This year, it would become the five-hundredth fiftieth anniversary for the religion, a perfect number for it to become a target for all sorts of zealous groups.

She, however, will not be participating in its defense. She would only be maintaining the peace and security of the temple with the three other priestesses while the feast would be held in the town's square. Only the brighter Ciel priestesses and priests who attended and poured in more of their efforts to the religion would be hosting. Others would guard. It was formed like ranks of who seemed to devote the most of themselves to the religion...physically.

Erif Nhomi was a third year priestess, still feeling fresh out of Paradisiac Mandatory school. By these temple standards, the age of twenty-three would deem one finally an 'experienced' priest or servant of Ciel. Shy of three years to becoming 'experienced', she only could ponder if her life spent forever as a priestess was for the better or for worst. Becoming a Ciel priestess provided a decent income where the Serathian government gave generous sums of money for the temples to distribute amongst its members.

It was almost like a true organization. The better you serve, the better your salary. It was nearly like a fish or a tobacco market. The social situation of it though squeezed the ideal amount of money into a harsher reality.

She brushed a little of the falling auburn strands of hair that hung over her dark blue eyes, eyes of Serath as many other foreign countries would call it. She was a typical Serathian child just grasping the ideology of adulthood if they would like to call it so. Among the many other priests and priestesses she was considered to be a good leader and talented considering her age but the lack of commitment and was often tardy to the religious call of Ciel. That caused her diminishment of several outstanding qualities she provided to the temple.

“Erif!” a cheerful, calm voice interrupted her focused thoughts. She turned to see a tall man with dark silver hair and deep crimson eyes smile enigmatically towards her. "The Elder has been saying you've been late again." She frowned to his response. It was something she did not like to be reminded of even if it was recent. "How has Ciel treated you lately?”

"Fine." She said quietly and bowed politely treating him no different than a visitor or a tourist. It was his handsome appeal that made her slightly self conscious of herself even though she carried the personality of a determined or even an unshakable character. "Have you come all the way to harass my tardiness?"

"Of course. I do not live too far away. Maybe a block or two? Three minutes to walk here?" he grinned sarcastically. “You look good today.” The young man complimented.

“Thank you." Erif replied. "And so do you, Sygma." She remarked feeling more embarrassed than she usually had felt. It felt awkward for her to try and reply with the same response. "That Kismet blood of yours is shimmering as usual."

"Do not remind me of my appearance. I know it is quite the sight." He laughed. "How are preparations."

"Orderly until you came, I believe." She held her hands together. "You always cause so much commotion wherever you go. Those women are always after you." It was very true. Unlike Aoma, Sygma was definitely aware of the flattering attention he often receives. While Sygma was much more charismatic, open, and talkative, Aoma did not. He did have charm and liked to talk, he was a daydreamer and seemed to be unaware of some of his unchivalrous manners.

"I know, I know. I just wanted to see how you were." Sygma gave a grin that obviously showed he was here for another purpose.

“What are you here for?"

"Aoma said he would be here to talk to me about something. I could not find him so here I am. Out of all places, a Ciel temple. They still offer free food, right?"

"...I suppose." She gave an awkward glance.

"That may be why." The young man thought. "Do you think you could find him for me, priestess? After all, you do everything you can to serve the ordinary Cielist." He elbowed playfully.

“He was by the water fountain on my way here. Daydreaming as usual. You can look for him yourself, right?”

"I forgot to give my prayers last night. Let him know I will be here." Sygma finished. It was a favor, not a question. After an annoyed sigh, Erif left the Cielist to where he was and headed away from the chamber of prayers.

A piece of a diamond floated and spun slowly above his finger. He let out a disdainful sigh and the diamond vanished. Another man stood at the end of the room and waited for his leader to give his orders. His leader, a bright, optimistic, young fellow was a brilliant coordinator and thinker, able to push through tough and tight situations without as much as breaking a sweat. However, his reactions and ill sense of logic to simple situations were a result of his youthful age and lack of maturity yet to decipher a full situation.

“The feast is to be held at two o’ clock. All Cielists are to gather there.” He spoke impatiently. The younger of the two did not bother to notice or care. “What is your decision, Niomiel?”

“We know what is to be done to stop this demonic religion from spreading.” The leader shook his head where red blonde hair tumbled across his face. “I have to get this cut...” he murmured to himself. “Let me hear from you, Ris.”

“I have planned that we have the first three of our Ninja classes to head through the markets that crowd there. Security in the square itself is the easiest to break...” Ris, one of the leading coordinators, began to brief the backbone of their plan.

Erif had wanted to leave them where they were with their ‘men’s conversation’ but the look on Aoma’s face kept her on the note of eavesdropping. She had never carried the reputation of a rude eavesdropper but she was aware of when there were situations she needed to know instead of taking the finding by surprise.

However, she was sure Sygma knew that she was standing behind the walls judging by his cryptic language which he only used when wanting to cover up. It was difficult to hear what they were talking about even in the chamber where whispers echo into a canyon. The only words she heard were her name, of course, they were definitely going to tell her later, activity, and feast.

Confused by what any of this could mean, she left to light up more of the bowls that had not been refilled of their fiery strengths. The frustrated feeling of finding out last only came as her being the youngest out of the three of them.

Although he despised organized religion, as he calls all of these religions to be, Aoma Dsuka, was very bright. Erif could only imagine that the notion of having Aoma dare step into a Ciel shrine could mean something serious.

Deeper into their lives, Aoma had always played as an older brother to Erif or even a supportive, childish father. Aoma, however, was not the modest type to shyly hide his remarkable intelligence and is talent in law, speech, and debate. If there was anyone who would ever ask Aoma of what he did, he would marvel and praise himself the way that critics would do for an undeserved novel. It was a wonder why he had not gone off to convince the world that he could have been the descendant of the missing Progeny of the Serathian kingdom.

Sygma, was the mysterious and quieter of the two which added more to the great qualities that women loved about him. He had always been popular among the women’s side but no one has wondered why he has not courted a woman. Erif could remember one time where she had dared to ask such a question and his reply was the same like so many others he had turned down: I honestly do not know if I am capable of loving someone as wonderful as you.

The moment he had said that to her, she immediately took away his plate of appetizers that her mother served for the both of them. Erif did not realize that she had made herself sound like she was in love with him but it was the kind of fabricated response that made the rejected admire him even more. A part of this annoyed her deeply but it was his decision, she concluded. She had given him back the appetizers a few minutes later and said that was she not in love with him.

Then again, Erif felt that it was only the reputation that natives of Kismet would uphold. That nation’s people were known for prospering the most beautiful people on earth. This made the Kismet merchants and travelers stand out greatly amongst small villages and neighborhoods.

The echoed taps of footsteps distracted her from her thoughts as she bowed politely towards the approaching Aoma and Sygma.

“Do not act so polite in front of us here. It scares me.” Aoma smiled uncomfortably. “As much as I do not want to be here.”

“What is it?” Erif inquired, speaking in a coldly polite tone.

“We have been hearing rumors lately.” Sygma said warily. “There might be an attack on the feast today. Must be no big deal for all of you since you have to prepare for this year after year but this is the five-hundredth. The clans probably have something special in mind.”

“Thank you for letting me be aware of this.” She frowned. It was obvious they had to prepare every year for this sort of expecting fatality. No new information as usual. More warnings of another attack or the same as usual. “Perhaps there is something more if it took the two of you to warn me.”

“You be careful and we will be on the lookout, alright?” Aoma asked. “Well, Sygma will be at least.”

“Sounds good.” Erif smiled at last. “We, priests and priestesses, have a break at twelve so we can all have some lunch.”

“Three hours then?” Aoma checked his watch. “Piece of dirt, they run out of energy quickly.” He smiled. “Lunch and dinner?”

“Oh, so you finally closed in on her, Aoma.” Sygma smiled.

“No, but it makes good rumors.”

“Yes. I will see you later.” She immediately averted to the polite priestess she was used to imitate as. They waved before exiting the temple.

He was the last to arrive in the old clock store that sat close to the luscious, magnificent Ciel shrine. Others in the room sighed in relief with his entrance that whatever plan they were to carry out, it would be sure to succeed. Others, though, gave annoyed glances of taking this particular situation so lightly.

The Ciel priests and priestesses were nothing to be underestimated of. They, like the clan members, had also built their own surprisingly strong defense that was well-equipped to encounter groups like theirs. This year will be different, they would think. This time, Ciel in this town shall be removed and all shall be cleansed from the demonic rituals of the Ciel religion.

“All of you here?” Niomiel asked with a tired expression.

“Yes. Eight of us in this building.” Ris answered. “The others have been stationed where they are to be.”

“Good. Meanwhile, let us wait and have something to eat. I will brush up on what our group is to do. Now, importantly, we are the central unit that will target the Elder and his four highest followers. As easily as I seem to take it, they are very difficult people to get through. If they do not go immediately, then it is we who will go. If we take them down fast enough, the rest will be much easier. There are nine of us here, I know, which means we need all of the strength we can obtain to beat those demons to nothing.

“And because I am here, does not mean I am the Adonai. Let me reemphasize on how much we need to take out those five as quickly as possible. We will be the first group to signal the other stationed groups and giving the thumbs up signal to strike.

“Just to put this clearly, we screw up, we will get our posteriors kicked out of Serath. We are also here on a mission to bring the Kaveri religion so none of us can be recognized. This event will tear the town apart where we can reform it with the Kaveri. That will be our duty to provide comfort and convert them. It is important we establish as little dialogue as possible.

“Any questions before we leave?” his eyes scanned the looks on their faces to see their visible emotions or hidden that is buried behind the anxious eyes.

“Will we be assigned which one to attack?” an inquisitive voice of a middle-aged man spoke strongly in the silent, fragile room.

“Umm, why do you not all do that right now?” Niomiel shrugged. “Have not thought of that.” Ris gave an annoyed sigh to Niomiel’s little blunder. “I will take care of the Elder. Two for each of his high followers. Pair up and be sure your partner can cover for you.” He thought. “Then once we complete that, we head into the shrine. The other units will take care of the Cielists.”

A dramatic sigh followed. “Remember that you are not guaranteed to come back alive, so give your prayers to the Goddess before you dive in.”

After the first half of the day passed by, Erif had felt the hour and a half break was too short to accommodate for the rush and panic in the morning of setting up for the yearly feast. Due to the tardiness of the morning rush, she arrived early from her break to apologize to the Elder. He only brushed it off lightly with a kind, humorous remark that all of her tardiness can be forgiven once they have their own celebration for making it through the feast safely.

Something about the celebration though, Erif wanted to greatly see but felt a milestone being formed when she heard those words drop steadily from the Elder’s mouth. Perhaps she should have slept for a while to see if she could dream of a possible future to interpret if the feast will be successful or if there is an attack that the God wanted her to be warned of.

The hour had passed and gone. She still had to move on to the future.

That was the job of an Oracle, a person bearing the blood heritage who could see into the future and the greatest gift of all, to exterminate the vile evil that raped the living world of its purity: the Sumners and Necromancers.

Fumbling with her traditional clothes, she placed the warm garments on again and the helm and knits that covered her hair and most of her face. Rown, Low, and Pin came in and greeted her as well as dressing themselves in the Ciel priestess’s garments. Rown would be telling them what was to be done.

“We all dressed?” she asked as they all glanced at one another. “Good. We are heading to the dungeon.”

“Food dungeon you mean.” Low sighed. “Where the best foods are always given to the God.”

“Only the best.” Rown smiled impatiently. She was a tall woman full of grace and discipline. Erif was not sure if she was someone she had wanted to be like but her confident poise was something she had always wanted to take after. “Pin, you and I will both take the foods out. A bit large of a place to get lost there, especially when there are so many foods to tempt us all away from the God, but Low and Erif, the two of you will gather the specific items.”

“Are you sure the task is equal?” Erif asked. “We can do more.”

“Believe me, the two of you are getting the hard tasks.” Rown winked. “Alright, Pin?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” The timid girl nodded nervously. Pin was a young girl fresh out of Paradisiac Mandatory. The nature of the holy Ciel temple was overwhelming from the young child as she became withdrawn. Rown, though, had a soft side for the youngest girl.

“Do not worry. Erif is a smart one. Out of Paradisiac too, right?”

“Yes.”

“We have everyone here? Let us go!” Rown led the way for the three of them. “Have you ever been to the dungeon before, Pin?”

“The only people they lock up in there are the most delicious fruits you will ever find.” Low smiled mischievously. “Of course, I would not know. I never ever would dare do something like stealing food from the dungeon, right Rown?”

“Low was caught twice by the Elder. Of course, we do not know how the Elder would have caught her either if he was not out for the same reason, so the Elder decided we all should get our fair share and eat from the food dungeon once every two months. Then everyone is in a happy mood in the time span of those three weeks surrounding it.”

“If all goes well at the feast today, the Elder mentioned we could all get some fruits from the dungeon.” Erif pointed out.

“Really, now we better spread the word around. It will be a very good motivator.” Rown laughed as they went through several dark doors and hallways to a chamber of paradise filled with fruits of all kinds that had a certain shine that would make a mind unable to resist to taste at least four of them. “List!” the leader took out and unfolded the scroll. “For the yearly Ciel feast in honor to the God, the Elder requests six-hundred orangas.” Noticing the dumbfounded look on Pin and Erif’s face, she pointed. “Those fruits that are a squishy and melt in your mouth. They are a little dry at first.” The level of dumbfounds began to grow. “The bright, orange ones.” She pointed at the area that held at least a hundred different types of yellow fruits of odd shapes and sizes. “That is the hard part.”

“Orangas. I think I have tried them before.” Low suggested. “Those cylindrical-shaped fruits?”

“Bingo.” Rown clapped. “Let us get started? Six-hundred orangas. Go!”

“Mother!” Erde stomped. “Why can we not go to the yearly feast? I want to, I want to! I have not eaten a oranga in such a long time!”

“Dear, you know when Sygma says something may be wrong, I do not want to endanger you or Aunt Shura. Erif will bring back some orangas for you.” Her mother paused for a moment. “Did you take a nap yet?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“How was your dream?” she asked while preparing a small lunch for the two of them. “Anything interesting related to the feast?”

“No.” Erde’s childish voice faded to a one of concern. “Maybe. I dreamt that Erif had to leave because of an emergency.”

“Were you able to figure out the time?”

“The sun was rising so it is in the morning. Aoma and Sygma were with her for a while and they walked away. They walked in other directions and they did not say good-bye to her. Erif walked away with her horse, Mauriel, and did not turn back.” Erde looked up. “What does it mean, Mother?” the child asked the mother who merely stared at the sliced pieces of eggplant.

“Anything else you can interpret?”

“She was wearing a white cloak with...blue signs. Ciel.”

“White is the color of the fallen martyr.” Mother whispered. “...But a horse with her?”

“She had no wings, Mother.”

“Alright. Maybe I can have some hope in that. You know that wings only could mean that they would die, right?”

“Or that they could shine.” Erde whispered to herself. Her mother did not hear. “She was not in our town though. She was elsewhere. She was in a busy street and the river aside of her was a black color.”

“That means she will be in danger.” Erde’s mother closed her eyes praying silently. “What is going on?”

“Should we tell Erif?”

“Of course. When she gets back.” The woman thought quietly before resuming her slices of eggplant ignoring her daughter’s deep stare.”

The two were beginning to feel tired amongst placing the orangas in the wagons. Realizing that their stable and resilient shells would keep them intact, the two agreed on finally tossing them in the trunk. Six-hundred would probably be asking for some fun. Although Pin was the nervous little girl in front of many of the more confident priestesses, a one-on-one case, had her talking rapidly.

“How on earth are we suppose to know that we have six-hundred in there?” Pin asked.

“Why are you asking me?”

“What?” Pin blinked. “They...they said they wanted six-hundred”

“They do not expect us to count up to six-hundred, do you not think so?” Erif smiled. “It is only approximate.” She walked over to the large wagon. “Up to here is where approximately six-hundred orangas would be. Someone counted before and estimated here, so it will not matter.”

“Are you sure about this?” the priestess tossed a flurry of orangas into her piling wagon.

“Oh, I am quite sure. They do not mind. Very sturdy fruits, these are.” Erif attempted to bend them but their stiff and resilient skin was flexible enough to hold. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“Oh? Oh, I graduated.” She smiled. “I was one of the top thirty in my class.”

“Impressive.”

I remember your year though. All of us lower classmen admired Kabeka and Raggiungere from your level. Even when we were merely little fifth year students, we adored Sygma and Aoma.” Pin spoke cheerfully. “You were good friends with them, were you not?”

“I suppose.” Erif shrugged unsure if the title of good friends still stuck on to one of them right now.

“Have you kept in touch with Kabeka?”

“No, I have not.” She shook her head. “Who is your favorite?” she smiled mischievously.

“Ah, it would not matter anyway. I am far too young for them.” Pin laughed. “I would take Sygma though, would you not?” Erif froze for a moment, ceasing her tossing of orangas into the wagon. The last one tossed when the name ‘Sygma’ echoed missed and fell onto the ground still as intact as ever. “Lady Eri—”

“Hush.” The priestess snapped. The two fell silent in the still chambers.

“Did they start already?” Pin asked. “We did not even get to our second task...” Erif looked towards her with a confused, mystic feel in her eyes. “You...the...what is...?”

“Something...the Elder.” Erif quickly tried to tie a conclusion together. The screaming silence of tension was so powerful that the bang of the heavy, two-door concrete entrance shook the two back into reality.

“What is...?” Pin trembled. Racing for a priority, Erif decided it was only best to help the living.

“Come on!” she grabbed her hand as the two dashed away as far as they could from the doors or from sight. A second knock into the wall caused the doors to fall echoing a giant, loud, deafening clatter onto the ground. Pin stood several feet behind Erif waiting for what could be the worst.

There was no exit from the chamber. Only one entrance and one exit which have been preoccupied by two standing figures in the brewing dust.

“Do you have blood heritage?” Erif whispered.

“Umm I am of a Tamer and Lancer class.” She answered quickly. “I do not have a blood heritage.”

“Call it up then.” The older snapped. As if to her own command, a creature of large muscles, red skin, and giving off flickers of fire growled from behind the Tamer.

The two priestesses waited in a nervous anxiety threatening to ruin them both. Erif could hear her heart beating against the walls of her temples as she stared at the two approaching figures. One had black hair with a darker shade of skin as the slightly shorter one had brown hair but both were equally of respective heights.

“Two priestesses in here? That is all that is left?” the brown haired man spoke. He held a sword in his hand as the other held a scythe.

“Our rules were made to be rules for a reason.” The taller sighed. “Do you recant your sinful nature?” he snapped. “Your other priest friends refused.” He tilted his scythe to reflect the splatters of blood that was painted on the tip of his scythe. Pin was the first to gasp and look away.

“Ah, Rewne, you are so scary, that only the little girl is frightened. Tough man?” Niomiel smirked folding his arms letting the sword hang in the air. “What is your answer?” his focus returned to the two priestesses.

Erif brought one of her arms up as blue lines spun around her arm traveling to her fingertips. They collected at a single source. The moment Erif lowered her arm pointing towards them, the spell was released. Pin winced and the beast raised its arm around her for protection. The blasts shook the dungeon area and dust filled the chambers.

She rushed towards the fire attempting to conjure another spell. Looking through the eye of the helm, it located the two immediately. She sent two more spells in both directions and reached towards the stairs of the dungeon. Pin, however, had not followed her.

“Pin!” She yelled. The beast lunged and attempted to strike the swordsman only to be cut down by Rewne, the taller of the two. Erif tried to make it back down where the beast had fallen only to find standing on top of it, Niomiel holding Pin through his sword.

“Changed your mind yet?” The swordsman tossed the body onto the ground as it clumsily tumbled and the sound of a bone snapped as it came in contact with the floor. “You still have the chance.”

“Do you honestly...believe I would want to worship a religion...that does...this?” Erif trembled pointing to the body of the priestess. “Animals.” She glared and conjured another spell to cast. This time, white diamonds floated around her hand before she pointed directly and shot. Her helm eye immediately caught the swift movements of the two and her energy focused on the summon for a protective spell.

Both attacks of sword and scythe landed with a pounding force against the shell that caused it shatter but rebounded their attacks the same. The movement came so synonymously, so fast that Erif nearly lost balance on how to respond to such power. Both wasted no time to fight back. A scythe and a sword.

Her feet were able to kick Rewne’s scythe away from hitting her, breaking the formal posture of the Ciel priestess and attempted to knock away the other man’s but too late as it came hard against her shoulder crunching deeply into her bone. The force of the blow sent a wave throughout her immediately ending her consciousness.

The last thing she saw was her fading reflection on the marble floor.