Vescrutia: Legacy

His eyes remained trained one Alice, with a warm smile coating his Aura with a soft tone. Yet, just as he turned around to address Inariel statement..

Inariel Myotis wrote: Fri Feb 21, 2025 10:10 am "You have quite the...flare for entrances, Zeik."

The girl in question, Alice, disappeared into the distance. Chasing her would have been a simple task for either of them, but he was aware that would only worsen the girls opinion of them. He gestured for his staff, those who took off on instinct, to disengage any pursuit.

"...My entrance? Oh....thats something new ive been working on. I may have truly scared the young girl. Appearing from the thin of air and speaking into her mind...may have been over board."

He said with a slight chuckle.

Inariel Myotis wrote: Fri Feb 21, 2025 10:10 am
"I had come to discuss the Myotis's... reintegration into the Nine. When this, dustling, became hostile. She shows promise, dangerous promise."


"But that does not belong to me, what does, is the discussion about the Myotis's path to sustainability."

Zeik took in inariel words with warm embrace, he was proud to see someone as fearsome, selfish and bordering the thin line of good and evil as himself transition into such a caring person. His words were sharp and his eyes were sharper, that of him had never left;but, to care about the myotis, a powerless group of pitiful numbers and rank.

"How much you've changed."

He said the second Inariel finished speaking. It was the only thing floating through his mind. Inariel hadn't spent much time with one another, a sentence here or there. Not until together, with the help of his...daughter, defeated Antares.

"I...want to help and im honored you trust me enough to aid you. I find myself confused by your statement. reintegration into the nine?

The staff moved to pursue Alice as she fled the campus grounds. Inari had no such response having chosen to no longer concern himself with the Vesta crowns side projects. Something. Told him however, that this was not the last time her feet would touch Ars soil. Instead Inari found himself overcome with the smallest glimmer of a blush as Zeik unexpected response.

“I-i haven’t the faintest clue what you’re eluding to Vesta, I am simply fulfilling my duty as crown….”

He nervously looked off to the side breaking he and Zeiks line of sight. It was not everyday he found himself stumbling over his speech.

“Besides…”

His eyes veered towards the burning white glare of Xelphis. His thoughts tracing back to his vow to Aurelius.

“I made a vow after all.”

As a sorcerer the power of words and the bond that linked them together were sacred. Zeik being a caster of the highest renown no doubt understood this. Even the vilest of mages were known to respect the forces that bound oaths together. Zeik confusion was not surprising, Inari himself was still trying to grasp his exact definition.

“I find myself still fumbling over the speech of Humes…”

His gaze returned to meet Zeik once more as he intended to clarify his meaning as much as he could.

“Due to the …actions of the former Holgurd crown, and the hatred his prejudices created the Myotis have been long since displaced, their connection to the nine like that of a thread soon to snap. They have been separated for so long and have become physically and even more concerning spiritually weakened…their very souls suffering from malnutrition.”

His gaze sharpened.

“No doubt despite Antares demise there are still those who harbor conflicting frictions in their hearts and no doubt my people also harbor discontent seeking refuge amongst their former oppressors….there is a …mending that needs to occur. Restoration that must ensue.”

Inariel Myotis wrote: Wed Feb 26, 2025 9:58 pm “Due to the …actions of the former Holgurd crown, and the hatred his prejudices created the Myotis have been long since displaced, their connection to the nine like that of a thread soon to snap. They have been separated for so long and have become physically and even more concerning spiritually weakened…their very souls suffering from malnutrition.”

His gaze sharpened.

“No doubt despite Antares demise there are still those who harbor conflicting frictions in their hearts and no doubt my people also harbor discontent seeking refuge amongst their former oppressors….there is a …mending that needs to occur. Restoration that must ensue.”

Zeik took in the words of his growing friend with a solemn heart. Though his actions posed no ill will to the Myostis, some could have and have argued that his inactions was just as damaging. It was something that weighed on his heart. There had been something suspicious about Antares and his motives, but the political and physical might he wielded, made approaching him directly...unwise.

"Kind words from a growing heart. You know...its souls just like yourself that I forged the bond i have with this forest. I wanted to create a space for those who tread the line of order and chaos; but, i alone couldn't be a fair judge. So i sought the assistance of the forest of resonance. Its gaze is akin to the eyes of heaven, if such a metaphor has any weight to you. Not even my own daughter can subvert the boundary I've imposed on this land. Your k...our kin, would find solace, knowledge and time to grieve that they need. "

His words were soft, tinged with his guilt and a desperate need to repay what debt he felt he owed.

"Between the courts and Ars haven, we could repair both their mind and their spirit. Yet...again, I can't subvert the boundary i created. those who harbor ill will wont be able to find their way here. They'll need to take refuge in the Maalukian woods, its a safe space; but a little further from here. Its the best i can offer in this situation. Relations between the Acrix crowns is shaky, so i understand them wanted to leave...actually where have the myotis been living.

Inari’s gaze lingered a bit longer on Zeik observing the sway of his Naten. It was composed, tightly assembled with but slight fluctuations. A estimate to the stark control over his essence he wielded. It was vastly different than what he observed in the confrontation between he and Nagase. A battle that had its fate share of duress. As he stood now Inari could see the legend behind the man so clearly, but that a man who bolstered such power could speak with some a calm and intuitive tone, perhaps he was becoming more like the humans than he cared to admit. He adjusted his stance slightly to accommodate the uneasy lightness in his stomach in the face of Zeik praise. Only when he redirected his wording concerning their kinship did Inari regain his composure completely.

"Kind words from a growing heart. You know...its souls just like yourself that I forged the bond i have with this forest. I wanted to create a space for those who tread the line of order and chaos; but, i alone couldn't be a fair judge. So i sought the assistance of the forest of resonance. Its gaze is akin to the eyes of heaven, if such a metaphor has any weight to you. Not even my own daughter can subvert the boundary I've imposed on this land. Your k...our kin, would find solace, knowledge and time to grieve that they need. "

“You decorative speech is not lost on me ancient one.”

Inari said as his mind drifted briefly to the visage of the burning glare that once stained his soul. The recollection was swift however, for he was now free of its menace and sought now its utter destruction.

“I know something of eyes…and what lay beyond their glares.”

A slight smirk, an even briefer chuckle.

“After the battle an encampment was erected just outside the boundary of the city, the Holgurds work, if you can believe that. A small token of their guilt having learned of the leaders actions. A small one, but a token nonetheless.”

It was a start, a meager one but an attempt at kindness where there was once only contempt. Inari was initially weary of such an offer, unsure if it was just some plot to finish the rest of them off. However, after a bit of…assurance from the crimson crown he was sure his family would be safe in his absence, or he would make good on his word to bestow upon them a fate worse than death. Yet true to their word and their empathy, they kept the Myotis fed, and restful respite.

“Of course such an arrangement was only so that I could attend to a matter that required such an extreme risk. One, in fact, that involved the woods….its funny”

He said as his wings showed his chest, a crimson pendant upon it.

“Those woods were the first place I awoke under the dogma of the Scarlet Moon, its sanguine authority condemning me to bare the flesh of an innocent beneath my claws, a sin not so different than that of my people, even before me even knowing of them. Blissfully unaware of the depth of my ties to that land… and the horrible wound I left marred on it.”

He cupped the pendant, the only keepsake of his mother.

“Yet, through the courts I was able to reconnect with my inner being, facing the darkness that roared back at me…and accept what had been…so that I can finally see what could be.”

His eyes met those of Zeik once more.

“There was a time Zeik, many moons ago, where I was stood as a guardian in those very woods. That fate would see me returned there…this time with my kin in tow. Well, even I can’t appreciate the poetic nuance that it may very well be the place that could heal them…as it has helped mend what was…broken within me.”

Inari released his hold of the pendant. There was something else he needed to inform him.

“Deep within those woods…in a place known as the Black Forest, there exists a vestige…a seed, something akin to a heart that pumps an oasis known as the Moonflow. I am…irrevocably tethered to it…and must see to its protection…”

There was a threat lingering above them, one that his and the destiny of all those influenced by the moon were ensnared in mortal combat with. He didn’t know how much of this he should divulge to Zeik, how much of it he needed to know.

“Those who cannot enter Haven shall come with me, I will personally oversee their…development. We shall take up the mantle of Guardians of the Lunar Veil once more. The others, shall become students of Ars, where I am sure they can expect the intentional cultivation they deserve. “

The Hand Of the Fel Sovereign were a virus infecting the realms, spreading their could madness like a plague, a smoldering miasma of chaos and treachery. Inari had decreed himself to be the force that stands in opposition to them. But loathe him to admit…there was much about these villains he did not know, even the demon itself that haunted him vastly remained a mystery. Perhaps it would be irresponsible of him not to inform Zeik, then again, the forest was the one place Inari was sure the Fel One could not permeate. So perhaps his worries were unfounded.

Zeik stood in the open courtyard of Ars Haven, the academy of mystic studies, the scent of damp stone and old parchment lingering in the air. The sky above was an ever-shifting canvas of twilight hues, neither day nor night, as if the world itself hesitated to settle. Inariel’s words still echoed in his mind, each revelation sinking deeper, unsettling his sense of certainty.

The Holgurds were moving swiftly—too swiftly. For a people known for their patient deliberation, their sudden decision to atone for their fallen Crown’s sins was uncharacteristic. It should have taken them much longer to settle on a course of action, and yet here they were, ready to repair the wounds they had inflicted upon the Myotis. Why now?

But that was only the beginning. Inariel’s mention of dormant seeds, the potential they carried, and his own role as a guardian of the forest—how old was this man? Zeik had always suspected there was more to him, but now he wondered about the nature of his very soul. His wife had called Inariel a mongrel, a slur used for those who carried multiple souls within them. If that was true, then who—or what—had once shared Inariel’s body?

His thoughts were constantly disrupted by the murmuring of scholars, the rustling of robes, and the insistent demands of his kin and staff. They lingered at the edges of the courtyard, ever-watchful, waiting for his response, his orders, his leadership. The weight of it all pressed against him, but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in the implications of Inariel’s words.

A black forest?

Zeik exhaled slowly and turned to Inariel, his expression unreadable. His voice, however, was firm.

"We should discuss this more… in private."

(Time skip into an office of ars Haven. Dont change threads. Continue talk about black forest and sanguine moon.)

Zeik's curiosity warranted further deliberation, so be it. Inari had wished for time to surmise the many happenings occurring around him properly. Each one is yet another silken thread in the weave of not just his fate, but an omen of much more harrowing time to soon visit the Astral, Muu, and the planet as a whole. Inari had his reservations about the Holgurd's sudden wish to bury the hatchet, however seeing as how no other family offered sanctuary for his displaced Kin they decided to place what little trust was had in the devils they knew.

What was to come of this or what underlying motives they could possess though crosses his mind did not linger for he had resolved his course of action should they decide to misuse the sliver of “trust” he bequeathed to them. A gluttonous retribution. Yet, the less bloody course of action was to relieve them of this responsibility as soon as possible by bringing the Myotis here to Ars where their safety, and cultivation would be ensured.

“….”

Inari didn’t say much as they traversed the halls of Ars. They were aligned with history both new and old etchings of tales from legends immortalized in art. They reminded him of the caves of the Acrix. Eventually, they made it to Zeik’s office. After Zeik made himself comfortable Inari would begin.

“I have felt the scrying of your scrutinous wondering Zeik. And unfortunately even after I speak my next words….I fear they will only lead to more questions than adequate answers ... .nonetheless. I feel compelled ... .wanting to share the pieces of these truths I have suffered to gain with someone, other than my familiar.”

Inari walked towards a window. Staring up at the moon who could be seen vaguely behind the luminance of the suns.

“I will start from what I have uncovered about the Sanguine Moon, and the Scarlet night it imposes upon the planet.”

Inari took a breath. It was a slow drag of air as he grounded himself to reopen these wounds only recently closed.

“We believed it to be a comet possessing a peculiar wavelength that when intertwined with the twin moon liner alignment produced a light that …rouses those sensitive to the moon, particularly the Myotis. But according to even the most ancient text concerning this, its influence has never been powerful enough to sway the clan to wanton murder.”

He looked over his shoulder.

“This is because the original advent of the Blood Moon had been comprised. The present advent is no mere celestial body, but the husk of an ancient cosmic entity. One that has existed very well since the First Astral year, quite possibly before even. The Red Eye. I…have not been able to ascertain its origin but I have witnessed and suffered firsthand at its evil machinations. As well as those who worship it. What I do know is that it is an incomparable evil known as a Grand Desire, a type of Demon if you will. Malefic fae born from twisted concepts and feelings. It had been dormant its lulling song of chaos only passively and subtly influencing the planet. Until a certain event a thousand years ago.”

He folded his arm before turning to totally face Zeik his back leaning against the window pane.

“….my birth.”

He drew another breath, this one sharper as he gripped his arms tightly

“There is a…uniqueness to my CORE the dark one desires, covets desperately. The Seed Of Creation…it called it, a soul…from another plane. The soul of whom sealed the devil away. It…connived against my father sensing the seed being reborn in the myotis bloodline. It…struck me with an illness. Induced my parents with fear and anxiety and then…offered them a pact….”

Inari's eyes closed as the events of his first encounter with the Red Eye when he witnessed the demon plot and the dark deal it spotted with his father.

“It would…stall my illness, giving my parents a single century to share with me. After which the Eye would return and claim me for its own…my father, desperate as he was agreed to this pact and spent the last century trying to find a way to cure my affliction and break his oath to the dark one….he exhausted every option that’s…when he sought the counsel of Antares.”

His eyes slowly opened locking with Zeik, the angst of his blood boiling at the thought of that wretched fool's betrayal. Hewanted terribly for the Holgurd to give him a reason to pay them back triple-fold.

“You heard straight from the kin-slayer mouth how that ended. My father died, and the blood pact was broken. My…mother tried to flee, but the Eye never let her out of its sight. It embellished the scarlet night forcing the myotis to a frenzy slaughtering their kin, petty penitence for my parent's betrayal. It cast a heinous hex upon my soul, one that would see me practically immortal, an eternal cycle of madness of gluttony….this curse is what gave me the blood ritual that allows me to consume, and assimilate the mind, body, and soul of others.

His wings spread lightly revealing his mother’s pendent. His only memorabilia of her. And the love of her sacrifice.

“Each time…I die, I am reborn, ignorant of my life previous. I search, I find something I lack, I covet, and by the next scarlet moon the eye comes for me, I kill, its maddening call swaying me to destruction…and then I die again, killed by the very thing I sought to obtain. For the last thousand years this cycle has gone on, a myriad of lives I have lived and for these past eons I have carried the cumulative chaos of all their trauma, regrets, and sins. What changed this time was that the Orc I devoured, Bora was a warrior with a heart like that of a blossoming sun….his essence allowed my senses to become my own once more, he gave me, a semblance of morality again. It was this that started me on the path of discovery, that which led me to join the crown jewel.”

“I allowed Aurelius to feed from me, I’m sure I need not explain him to you. We discovered in our union the existence of a realm there’s to the Myotis past present and future. After he…fell. I resolved to end this curse…but to do so I needed to know about the sins of my past, for so long as their weight sat upon my soul I would only continue to be reborn in depravity. So…I used that realm to venture into the past of my own blood, and what I found….”

“Was a harrowing series of events. My last life was that of a Motion sorcerer by the name of Allen Momoto. He had been hunted by agents of the Eye and fled to the Maluuki Wood just on the edges of a village known as Moonfang deep in the Black Forest. A brush deemed so for the ebon bark of the tree that grew there….within this forest however dwelled the existence of two very powerful faes, revered as Twin goddesses born from the twin moons influence on the planet. Can you imagine the irony? That a myotis should wind up in such a place?”

“Their names were Minratha, born from Kirin's influence, goddess of the Moonflow, an Oasis nestled deep within the forest that served as a sort of safe place for the spirits of the dearly departed. A haven for those near death to gently pass on. A place of extreme spiritual presence that she protected. Her sister, Sophia, was born of Bako, mistress of night and Keeper of secrets. Within her Night Sacrarium, she guards the secrets of those whose memories depart into the moonflow, this creates a plant known as Gloom Blossoms. I….Allen was saved by a Venkage who had been taken into the village himself as a child. A man by the name of Hyomyn. He beseeched Sophia on Allen's behalf and she showed them the way to Mintatha. Should her sister deem him worthy, he would be saved. But what occurred was something that schooled both the goddesses. Allen Soul, the Seed within him resonated with the lunar influence of the moonflow, he and it became bonded.”

“This union allowed him to resist the curse within him for many centuries where he and human both served as guardian of twilight. Being empowered by the goddess to protect them as they slept, a mandated hibernation where one sister slept to regain her strength. For a time Allen thought himself safe, protected by the moonflow the demon could not impress its dogma through its lunar manipulation. But the Eye was far more cunning than any of them realized. For it had lamented a seed of its own. The agent that nearly killed Allen, had been consumed by him. Within that sacrifice was a concentration of madness. Slowly but surely it fed on Allen's hidden desires….he…had come to love Hyomyn you see. But Hyomyn and Sophia had come to adore each other.”


“To protect the family he had gained, to honor their bond he stuffed his own emotion deep down, but this repression only fed the curse more until finally…he snapped. In a deplorable fit of insanity, he attempted to slay Sophia, but unable to do he instead sealed her in the Nether, otherwise known as Lo’Kaleer. He…assumed her guise and attempted to live her life for himself…but she and Hyomyn had conceived a child. Icaris, a prodigal spawn with eyes that naturally removed falsehoods. He saw right through Inari's guise. Refusing to love him sent Allen into a blind rage and he mortally wounded the boy.”

“His father returned home, consumed with grief of the loss of his child, his friendship tarnished and his wife lost Hyomyns fury and anguish called out to the eye. And it answered, morphing him into a Greater desire, an arch-demon that now served as his right hand. Reborn as Grixas. “


“The battle between Allen and Grixas...had terrible consequences. It was...violent and sinister, with both bringing forth the use of old evil magic, their anguish saturated the earth, the...destruction of the Moonflow...Allen used it as a font of power while Montana slept, scarring the land in the tormented anguish of the great beyond. Their lament petrified the essence, corrupting the mana of the Oasis and turning it into necrotic energy. For which Allen unleashed an arbiter so great, so terrible it left a festering wound upon Vescrutia.. It was for this reason that…I could not access the planet Naten as seamlessly as others. The planet had barred me from her, so long as that wound existed I would have to force might from her. Their battle threatened to destroy the entire woods, but….with the last of his life the child, It was his essence that.. altered my curse. Instead of being reborn into another lost life...it returned me to my original self. The first link in the cursed chain. Before we killed each other, that boy's soul created incredible magic, One that spits Grixas into three, sealing one in the nether...perhaps hoping he could find and free his mother. “

“After discovering this I…returned to the Black Forest, now called Grannis, a place inhabited by the decadents of Moonfang, those who survived. Yet I found it under siege by a legion of Desires. However, when I tried to conjure my Familar I found myself unable. The ebb from the Moonscar is so pervasive it inhibited my connection to my core. In addition to this, the land hated me, so my blood could not cultivate it. I was forced to rely on the wrenching of my blood and only that skill. But a spark of good karma revealed itself. The elder tree, a large arbor known as E’vanorus, that held mystical power had been shielding them from the Moonscar's influence as well as preventing the desire from harming them.”

“It was the last surviving Lunarwood, a tree species that Allen during his time as guardian created by mixing the moonflow into the black forest creating a tree that absorbed moonlight propagating and permeating the spiritual presence of the Moonflow through the forest protecting them. Those who fled managed to take a fledgling with them avoiding the demonic energy of Allen’s corruption. Part of the moon flow, of Minratha’s untainted spirit remained, sensing me, its creator near it…infused me with that power reigniting, albeit temporarily the power I possessed as a guardian. With it, my birth rune, Lunesta, burned brightly from my eyes and I defeated them.”

“His victory was short-lived, as then…She came. Xora, the oppressor. The demon who had made the Moonscar her home and domain of rule. It was her Red Law, a spiritual dogma impressed upon the world around her that made it nearly impossible to connect to my CORE freely. What’s more… I discovered that this harbinger of the Eye was Minratha, corrupted now into an Eldritch Lord in service to the Eye. She…kidnapped the chief's daughter, seeking to replace the sister that…I had stolen from her. A challenge of mortal combat, of which I agreed. “

“Despite the odds being stacked against me, my power cut more than half I journeyed to the Moonscar. The hatred of the land, and the howls of the departed clawed at my mind. It…was the single most difficult thing I ever had to endure. But endure it I did. I reached the top of the Crimson Vale, formerly Sophia Night sacrum. It was there I finally learned the truth behind the eye's existence. And how deep the well of its machination ran”

“Atop the castle, a group of cultist awaited me, a nexus of blood sacrifices tethered together in a web of their sinews. They called themselves the Hand of the Fell sovereign. That is the eye's true name, its goal is the subjugation of all realms under its fiery constraints. Its overseers are known as the Red Oracles it is they who have had a literal hand in all the heinous events that have tortured countless souls upon the planet and through the cosmos. Minratha’s hatred towards me was her offering to be me Xora. We waged a fierce battle her power overwhelming. But even then I began to gain the upper hand, then she offered herself to the Fel one and became an avatar of his essence. Face to face now with the demon in the flesh.”

“He said to me, with his hand on my chest, searching for my core. Countless plans, countless ages. Though it’s name changes, and shifts to accommodate the modern ages, it’s dogma remains unchained. It has given rise to untold dynasties who once sang homage to its wake and prayed for destruction from the very hand that crafted them. That this universe is dying, corroding. And only through blood shall it be restored, rekindled. But first, it must be extinguished..."

“ That this was my purpose…or rather the purpose of what is within me. One of three keys that will aid in the kindling, the restart of all life… the Seed of Creation, harbors the coding of life itself… crystallized sinew of a myriad dead, given their lives to create that single crystal…I… do not know the other keys, nor the plane we hail from.”

“Just when the demon was about to achieve its goal the unprecedented happened. From within the realm of Myotis, the echos of Allen reached out. Through his knowledge, we were able to have my family find the Vestige that guarded the Moonflow origin point. It was corrupted by the Fel Sovereign's malice. However.Allen recreated the spell of the child that defeated him using Amrit as a tether to the material world and with it restored balance purifying the Heart, the moonflow. And sowing shut the Moonscar. He…ended my curse, a chaos that had its grip on my soul for millennia gone. With the Sovereign influence gone, my body took the form it should have as a Thousand-year-old Myotis crown….and now here I stand before you…whole.”

“But though I managed to foil the Demon's plans this time, if it has proven to be nothing else it is a dangerous combination of patience and persistence. It will never stop, that is why I cannot afford to have the Myotis close to me. It would use each of them against me…I cannot stomach having to slaughter another loved one.”

“It’s acquisition of my core aside, the Fel one can only enter this plane through very specific prerequisites. It is for this reason the Hand exists.

“ Seven Pillars Rise… Seven Chains Broken… Seven Doors Opened…only one Reign. It is their prayer that speaks to the Three laws that must be observed for the Fel to enter the material world. “

“ The Law of Calling is their... recruitment strategy, a diabolical trap baited with false salvation. The Eye, a malevolent consciousness, sought out souls stewing in their bitterness, drowning in despair. It would orchestrate their torments, twist their vulnerabilities, and then, when they were at their breaking point, it would offer a "solution" – a pact sealed in blood and shadowed by demonic power. These "solutions" were not true salvation, but a transformation into something else entirely – a Greater Desire, a grotesque parody of their former selves, fueled by their deepest, darkest desires.

Among those chosen were seven, known as the Chosen Seven Chains. Each marked by the Eye, each given a taste of power, each forever changed. They were the keys, the links in the grotesque shackles that the Fel Sovereign forged.”

“ Then came the Law of Crimson, a horrific game the Eye plays with its new toys. The blood ritual was their weapon and their curse. They could devour the very essence of their victims, their flesh, their soul, their memories, all of it consumed for power. But the darkest truth was that they were not meant to feast on the innocent forever. The scarlet moon, a symbol of the Fel Sovereign, was their master. When it bled across the night sky, they were driven to seek each other out, compelled by a primal urge to consume. The Law of Crimson dictated that they must face off, one by one, until only one remained. The Eye, in its cruel wisdom, turned its children against each other, using their new-found powers and twisted desires as weapons.

They were not fighting for survival, they were fighting to be the last link in the chain of the Fel Sovereign. The last sacrifice. Each victory brought them closer to their destiny, to the final, chilling purpose of the cult. The last standing Greater Desire, Arch Demon, would not merely be alive, but would serve as a vessel.”

He paused feeling relief that he was coming to the end of this regurgitation of information.

“ Finally, there’s the Law of the Land. The Fel Sovereign, trapped in the nether, needed a foothold in the material world, an anchor that would allow it to escape its prison. This required more than just a single vessel, it called for a domain that could withstand its cosmic presence. It needed a place saturated in its energy, and that required blood, copious amounts of it. The land had to be soaked in the lifeblood of sacrifices, turning the very earth into a conduit for its return”

Inari finally made his way to the seat in front of Zeik where he rested his weary form.

“I suspect the Hand will return to Muu soon if they aren’t already here. They will seek the desperate, the ambitious. They will present them with a power that cannot be ignored and they will twist them. Are there any places of dark power of note upon the continent? Forgive me, I know this must be a lot to take in…”

Time was short, and Inari had vowed to be the claw that removed the Hand from Vescrutia and beyond if need be. But he knew now, that he could not achieve this goal alone. Truth be told, he had only gotten this far because of others.

The halls of Ars Haven whispered with history, their walls adorned with an unbroken tapestry of paintings, carvings, and sketches left behind by the countless students who had passed through its doors. Zeik and Inariel walked side by side, their expressions mirroring the same quiet reverence as they absorbed the art. The Ace of Hearts and the Principal, figures rarely seen together, now moved through the academy. To the students in hallways they were like phantoms or rumors made flesh.

Zeik’s voice cut through the hushed murmurs of the students. "This art, no matter how old it appears or how well designed it is… it's the work of chaos."

His words lingered, weaving into the whispers that filled the space around them. It was not every day that the students saw their Principal—many had never seen him at all. For some, he had been little more than a name uttered in cautionary tales, a being of mystery and fear who rarely emerged from the deeper halls of the academy. But now, here he was, standing beside the towering Elv, whose overwhelming presence was impossible to ignore.

Inariel moved with deliberate grace, yet his sheer size made the students shrink back against the walls, their eyes wide with awe and trepidation. He was a being out of legend—a monstrous bat, his wings folded tightly against his body, his clawed hands resting lightly at his sides. His fur, dark as a storm-choked sky, seemed to drink in the light, and when his crimson eyes swept over the gathered students, they flinched as if caught in the gaze of a predator.

A group of younger students clung to each other, whispering hurriedly.
"Is that really him?" one breathed.

"He's real," another answered, voice barely above a whisper. "The Principal of Ars Haven…"

Some older students stood frozen, their eyes darting between Zeik and Inariel, as if struggling to reconcile the familiar presence of their Principal with the nightmare of the Ace. A few brave souls tilted their heads in curiosity, trying to see beyond the fearsome exterior, wondering if the stories about him had been exaggerated.

Zeik continued walking, seemingly unfazed by their reactions. "The students here come from all over Muu, most with nothing to return to. Some stay for weeks… others never leave. Yet…" He let out a quiet chuckle. "I’ve heard from Shino that just about every student has added something to these walls. It started as an accident—a scribble here, a vision there, a photo of a lost one. Random acts of creation."

He paused for a moment, taking in the artwork once more before speaking again. His voice now deep and resonant. "And now… it is a rite of passage."

The weight of his words rippled through the students. Few had ever heard him speak. His voice, soft yet commanding, rolled like distant thunder, carrying a gravity that made the floor beneath them pulse with naten.

He gestured to the walls. "Their unplanned, unscripted efforts have turned the work of strangers into tradition, culture, and connection."

A hush fell over the hallway as the students absorbed his words, their gazes shifting from the paintings to Inariel himself. Some who had once been afraid now looked at him with newfound understanding—not just as a towering, frightful creature, but as a guardian of this place, a witness to the same traditions they had unknowingly built.

Then, the silence broke. A single, hesitant movement—a young student, barely past their first year, stepped forward, clutching a small piece of charcoal. Heart pounding, they turned toward the wall, and with slow, deliberate strokes, added their own mark to the endless tapestry.

Zeik reached the door to his office, pulling it open and gesturing for Inariel to enter first. Before stepping inside, he turned back toward the students, offering a warm smile.

–
He leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the glowing screens before him. A dozen different feeds flickered in and out—reports for Ars Haven, student progress logs, security footage, incoming messages. Each one demanded attention, but his mind was split, lingering on the images of his children. A brief flicker of emotion crossed his face before he exhaled and refocused.

Inariel remained by the window, silent, watching. His crimson eyes held no impatience, only an unshaken composure. Zeik processed information like a storm—chaotic at first glance, yet moving with an unseen rhythm only he could truly decipher.

Inariel Myotis wrote: Thu Mar 13, 2025 12:44 pm “I have felt the scrying of your scrutinous wondering Zeik. And unfortunately even after I speak my next words….I fear they will only lead to more questions than adequate answers … None the less. I feel compelled ... .wanting to share the pieces of these truths I have suffered to gain with someone, other than my familiar.”

-
He sat in his chair, eyes locked onto the shifting glow of his screens, fingers poised and ready. Every motion was precise—taking notes, analyzing clues, deciphering patterns. His screens, unlike traditional monitors, remained invisible until his fingers caressed the keys, illuminating their sleek, glass-like surfaces with cascading data. It was an unusual technology, even by Vescrutia’s standards—an enigma of engineering made possible only through the Sanctus Crystal he had discovered.

A smirk curled at the edge of his lips. "Try me…" he muttered, his tone laced with challenge.

The words had barely left his mouth when his guest, Inariel, seized the moment. His voice, rich with experience, carried an unsettling weight. He spoke of cults, of arcane phenomena that defied logic—even for an elder caster. There was conviction in his tone, a certainty that made it impossible to dismiss outright. Yet, the claims themselves were staggering, bordering on the unfathomable.

Without hesitation, his fingers moved across the keys, summoning screens around him like a great digital cocoon. Pulsing blue appendages—ethereal extensions of his will—manned the auxiliary monitors, transcribing, analyzing, watching. His awareness seemed divided, yet no detail escaped him.

One screen, positioned within Inariel’s line of sight, displayed a real-time transcript of every word spoken. Every movement, every nuance of body language, was captured and cataloged with an eerie precision. And yet, despite this intricate multitasking, his focus sharpened the moment he inariel said :

“That this was my purpose… or rather, the purpose of what is within me. One of three keys that will aid in the kindling—the restart of all life…”

His fingers stilled, mid-keystroke. His piercing gaze locked onto Inariel, the weight of the revelation settling between them like an unspoken force.

“…The Seed of Creation harbors the coding of life itself… crystallized sinew of a myriad dead, given their lives to create that single crystal… I… do not know the other keys, nor the plane we hail from.”

He held his breath, A moment stretched taut. The screens hummed softly in the silence, their glow casting shifting shadows across his face. His mind raced, sifting through endless streams of knowledge, searching for a thread—any thread—that could unravel the mystery now laid before him. The flickering screens casting shifting shadows across his face.

The Seed of Creation. A key to rebirth. The code of all life, past, present and future remnants of countless lives. How could something like that exist? The words echoed in his mind, a revelation too vast to process in mere moments.

His fingers danced across the keys, then stilled. Interdimensional demons, death cult fanatics, and a litany of other details—each more sinister than the last—stacked atop one another like an encroaching tide. It would take weeks to unravel even a fraction of what had just been laid before him.

A long breath. A subtle shift in posture. When he spoke, his voice was soft, tinged with something distant—concern? Sadness? A whisper of betrayal hanging thick in the air.

"It'll take me some time to devise an appropriate countermeasure for The Hand and the Fell One."

His eyes drifted from the screen, summoning the Hands three laws before them. The words glowed, inscribed in golden light, their authority undeniable.

"This doctrine reads like a spell to me, it must hold great significance to the beast within our domain. I don’t imagine it’s energetically easy to maintain itself," he murmured, absently toying with a tiny wooden arrow between his fingers. "Eradicating The Hand would sever its grip, weakening the beast’s hold over us, no? Otherwise…" His gaze flicked toward Inariel, his expression unreadable. "You being a key of creation poses a great security risk."

The arrow rolled between his fingers before he flicked it into the air, twisting it like a coin. The silence between them grew heavier, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down like a vice.

"In fact… if anyone heard the story you just told me—"

He let the arrow fall still in his palm, his voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial, each word laced with warning.

"You'd become the number one target in every hitman's book. The enemy of the state. The apple of their eye. They will hunt you. Not individuals. Not just The Hand. Cities. Kings. Nations.”

The glow of the monitors pulsed, casting an eerie rhythm against his skin. The air itself felt thick, as though the room had become a cage of whispered dangers and unseen threats.

The room hummed with energy, the walls dissolving into a breathtaking panorama of glowing screens. Azure and cerulean light pulsed, bathing Inari in an otherworldly glow. He watched the symbols dance and shift, an alien and familiar language, a testament to the Zeik's prowess and inscrutable methods. He still didn't fully grasp the intricacies of the technology, or perhaps it wasn't technology at all. Maybe it was something else, something woven from the very fabric of magic, mimicking the form of the mundane. Regardless, Zeik's notetaking was a boon. He no longer needed to sink his fangs into flesh to imprint his thoughts, to convey the nuanced tapestry of his being. To speak, to articulate through sound, was a novelty still, yet it was becoming increasingly vital, especially now.

Zeik's voice, amplified and flattened by his typing, echoed in the spacious chamber, the words stark and chilling.

"You'd become the number one target in every hitman's book. The enemy of the state. The apple of their eye. They will hunt you. Not individuals. Not just The Hand. Cities. Kings. Nations.”

Inari pushed off the wall, landing lightly on the polished floor. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, tinged with a familiar irony.

"Heh, yes, well, I've grown accustomed to being perceived as prey…"

It was a truth woven into his very existence, a phantom pain echoing from centuries past. He walked toward the wall again, not in retreat but in restless contemplation. He began to ascend it, his movements fluid and almost feline, the cool surface a welcome contrast to the warmth radiating from the screens. His chin settled onto his thumb; his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the azure light, a flicker of contemplation in his golden eyes. The air had thickened, the playful energy of the screens now muted by the gravity of Zeik's pronouncements. He could feel the weight, the potential storm brewing, the invisible threads of concern tightening around not just himself but perhaps this kingdom, around Muu itself.

Reaching a comfortable hold, he paused, looking down at Zeik.

"If you are concerned about the welfare of your kingdom,"

Inari spoke, his voice measured, betraying none of the inner turmoil that rippled beneath his calm exterior.

"I have shared my plans… I will not be staying." His purpose was not to entangle Muu in his own war, his own ancient vendetta.

He continued his upward climb, finally reaching the ceiling and hanging there, his world inverted. Zeik's voice echoed in his mind, a thoughtful murmur laced with a hint of arcane curiosity.

"This doctrine reads like a spell to me, it must hold great significance to the beast within our domain. I don’t imagine it’s energetically easy to maintain itself,"


Zeik was right; the attack on The Hand's ritual had been a significant blow, a painful disruption in their meticulously woven tapestry of influence. Rituals of such magnitude required immense focus, vast resources, and, most importantly, time. They were wounded, certainly, but Inari knew better than to believe them defeated. The demon, the architect behind The Hand, was nothing if not patient, resourceful, and utterly relentless. They would regroup, replan, and sow new seeds of discord and darkness. But Inari was not deterred. He had taken the first step on a long and arduous path, which he had long avoided but now embraced. He knew what he needed to become. From prey to predator. From hunted to hunter. But first, he had to understand Zeik's mindset. Inari shifted slightly, his gaze sharpening. Zeik saw more than most; that much was clear. The "doctrine," as he called it, wasn’t merely words. It was a promise, a declaration, a force of will made manifest. He spoke, his voice resonating with a quiet certainty,

"The Guardian Of the Lunar Veil will hunt and devour the hands… and any fingers that serve to extend their reach."

He straightened his upside-down posture, his gaze now fixed intently on Zeik, whose face was aglow with the blue lux screen.

" Or," Inari drawled, a hint of playful accusation coloring his tone.

"Is it you, seer, who now have your eye on the prize?" He watched the screens flicker, hoping to glimpse Zeik's reaction, though the seer was always careful and controlled.

"Now that you have heard this… what do you intend to do with me? Keep me here… tied and shackled?"

He knew it was unlikely; physically binding him was a fool's errand, albeit not impossible for one as potent as the Vesta Crown. But the question held a deeper layer, a probe into Zeik's motivations. Zeik had spoken of the danger Inari's truth posed to fox kin, to Muu. True enough. But Inari also understood his immeasurable potential, which resonated with the very core of existence. The power to mend shattered worlds, to breathe life into barren landscapes, to reignite the embers of hope in hearts extinguished by despair. A power that, by all natural laws, shouldn't exist, yet did, within him. There was a challenge in his words, yes, but more than that, a genuine, burning curiosity.

Knowing what he now knew, witnessing the raw potential laid bare, what did Zeik, with his ancient wisdom and far-seeing gaze, speculate it could mean for the future of Muu and, more importantly, for his own future, enmeshed as it was with the fate of this kingdom? The azure light from the screens pulsed, bathing them both in its enigmatic glow, the silence stretching, pregnant with unspoken questions and uncertain futures.

Inariel’s words hung in the air like a blade waiting to fall.

"Now that you have heard this… what do you intend to do with me? Keep me here… tied and shackled?"

Zeik remained silent. Too silent. The pause stretched, a fraction too long—long enough for Inariel to seize the moment, to break free, to strike. But he didn’t. And when he finally spoke, his voice was softer than expected, tinged with an unease that clung to the edges of his words.

“…Yes.”

His answer was reluctant, almost brittle. He exhaled, gaze dropping for a moment before meeting hers again. “Yes… I considered such. Longer than you’d be comfortable with me admitting.” His fingers curled slightly at his sides, betraying the war waged within him. “And yet—I won’t. Freedom… is everyone’s right.” His voice steadied. “I’ve resisted great temptations in my eons, Inariel.” He assured. "Though none were as fruitful as Gods codex."

The weight behind those words was unmistakable. His eyes flickered, drifting from Inariel’s face to the students lingering at the door, their curious glances betraying their poorly concealed eavesdropping. He sighed.

“You shared something with me—something close to your heart. A vulnerability.” His tone shifted, losing its edge, settling into something more reflective. “I will offer the same courtesy.”

His posture changed, shoulders loosening, an old, weary kind of ease slipping into his stance. For a moment, it seemed as though the heaviness in him had always been there.

“There’s always something,” he mused, almost to himself. “Always someone trying to end us. A loose cannon in a small town. An old sorcerer gone mad. Corruption. An asteroid. Some manner of storm, always brewing on the horizon.” His voice, at first tinged with wry amusement, darkened with something heavier. “I chase these storms. I’m… obsessed with them.”

His expression clouded, regret flickering in his eyes. “In my youth… in an hour when children should have been sleeping, I followed such a storm.”

A screen materialized between them, its glow casting cold light on their faces. The image it displayed was stark—inariel and Zeik locked in combat with Antares. But the focus was on Zeik,lost in the depths of his cursed flame transformation. His body writhed with the untamed fire, his eyes consumed by something feral.

"I find it ironic…you being a seed of creation. While ive become--" His voice trailed off as if he were unsure whether to continue. He clenched his jaw, shaking the thought away before shifting the screen.

The battlefield was replaced by a view of an encampment—the place the Myosti would soon call home.

“They’ll need to learn how to defend themselves,” he said, pragmatic once more. “Those who can enter the city should study at Ars. The rest… they’ll need a teacher as well.” His gaze darkened. “As far as manpower goes, we’re stretched thin.”

The weight of responsibility settled between them like a specter, unspoken yet undeniable.

Inari did not mind the stretching silence. Where once such a elongated pause would have given rise to his ocean of anxieties now produced little more than freshly drawn droplets of anticipation. Had it been anyone else, perhaps he would have been more incline to man his defenses. But...he had Zeik shared a...unique experience. As the screens manifested giving light to the battle he, Zeik, Nagase and...Aurelius waged against the former Holgurd crown Inariel could sense Zeiks expression shift in an note almost akin to disgust. It was a look of rejection, dismissal, one that Inari had saw upon his own face many times.

"I am not the seed of creation..."

He said after letting Zeik get his various thoughts out.

"And you are not whatever storm has followed you. I am Inariel Myotis Hellgate."

Inari reflected to Zeik expression of the dastardly storms he once chased. Now it seems one of those storms rampaged ever more in his heart still.

"And yet...the seed was still apart of me when I came before the courts nothing more on my mind than satiating the incorrigible thirst for the blood of the betrayer. When I was part of the Crown Jewel, it was part of me then. I have always been the seed and yet, I have always been Inariel firstly."

He held his clawed hand out before him Zeik face resting just in the center of it in his line of sight.

"You are disgusted with the flame within you. It sears not only your flesh, it is a wound to your ego as well. Though are blazes burn differently Vesta, I know that feeling of...rejection."

Inari tightened his claw slightly, not enough to cause harm, but enough to draw Zeik's attention. He drew back the memories of the soul beat, the chaotic symphony of their combined energies, the forced intimacy that had peeled back layers of pretense. A technique that had allowed them, against their wills, to witness the raw, untamed power of the first kings, to glimpse the archetypes that pulsed beneath the surface of their world.

"And yet, when we...peered into each others souls. The fiery storm was not present, within either of us. Instead it was a monsoon of something that proved more integral, a true reflection of who and what we are."

He began to step forward, his pale flesh becoming more engorged with the ambient blue light washing off Zeik’s screens. He moved slowly, deliberately, closing the distance between them.

"Deifier's of fate, breakers of destiny. When painted one picture we do not shift the colors to suit what we wish to see. We take the brush. Do not shy away from the darkness Zeik. Anger...it is just as real, just as just as happiness...or sadness. You'd need not be married to either of them. But what you...become. Be true to it. To you....all of you."

He paused, letting his words sink in, the silence returning, but now laden with a different weight – the weight of consideration, perhaps even grudging understanding. Then, he shifted the focus, grounding the philosophical in the practical.

"The Guardians will have an instructor."

He said it with an air of quiet certainty, a statement of fact rather than a question. As he spoke, his mana began to manifest, swirling around him, not in the crackling, dark tendrils, but in a veil of Primordial Red. A bloody spiritual essence that intermingled with the cool blues of Zeik’s screens, creating an unsettling yet strangely harmonious visual dissonance.

"Me... For I now possess not only an Anima, but Amrit, has now evolved into an Animus."

Inari consciously allowed his mana to recede, the palpable intensity of the Primordial Red lessening before it became overwhelming. He did not wish to frighten the onlookers he knew were stationed beyond the door, their presence a silent pressure in the room. The Primordial Red, in its untamed state, was an… agitating presence to be engulfed in, too raw, too vital.

"Though admittedly I have only recently awakened my animus, it will take time to master. But the how's and why's are something within my experience to give to those who cannot enter Ars. Those are the Myotis I plan to take with me into the fight against the hand."

His wings expanded, the ruby medallion upon his chest gleaming slightly.

"Is this to your...satisfaction?"

He mused, a minor jab at his would be captor.