*Broken Dreams XIII* ~The Season Of Eternal Bloom; Kingdom Of Sacrifice~

[MoMoMix]

The thirteenth entry in the overall series and third in a special mini-trilogy, with the other one that's floating around being the intro. Any/all comments are weclome and appreciated as long as they are thought out and respecful. Thanks for your time.

*Broken Dreams*
~The Season Of Eternal Bloom; Kingdom Of Sacrifice ~

Ruination...

Renewal...

We are given that which we cherish only long enough to realize the loss is inevitable.

So does time march onward, regardless of whomever pleads another moment before the future becomes the present.

~Rituals Of Blood; Remnants Of The Heart ~

Blood slowly gushed downward in a morbid rhythm, droplets splashing against the soil and corrupting the ground as life slowly dwindled into complete nothingness. Spitting up more fluid the soldier lurched backward, his sword and shield dropping in unison, conventional weapons made obsolete in comparison to his enemies' capabilities. That moistness drenched itself against his hands, a sickening sensation slowly overwhelming his mind, the unbearable pain subsiding to grotesque realization. Armor meant nothing, protection meaningless without the proper conviction and spiritual prowess only veterans of war could actually experience, falling to his knees as his own body recoiled from the blow. The very instruments symbolizing his pride and status became tarnished memorials of previous glory, now burdening his form with an unbearable weight. Gazing upward, he attempted his best to stifle any remaining fear or weakness of emotion, sputtering out an incoherent phrase, undecipherable but containing the innate weakness of the inability to accept his destiny and spite toward those still blessed with life. No matter the distance or objects separating himself from his assailant, nothing could actually mask the raw terror consuming his gaze and fleeting conscious. His vision failing and distorting into nothing but a single blur, in the last moments of life he saw nothing but a monster beyond comprehension. Or perhaps... An angel...?

Smiling at the display of utter shame from his newest victim, Civvris stretched a single arm upward, showing nothing but an unmatched arrogance as if mocking the heavens themselves. The very air became distinctly different, a feeling without any comparison but carrying an unmistakable dread. Slowly sparks began emanating from pale fingertips, barely noticeable at first but quickly becoming more apparent. That grin of satisfaction became a disturbing smirk of anticipation, his breathing slowly increasing in time with the growing heat radiating from his hand. Unable to piece together the display before him a cry of anguish and surprise was carried with the last breaths of the doomed. A single fluent motion of admirable grace and an arc of flaming magic followed, the perfect combination of elegance and hostility casting another soul into the abyss. Seconds passed without motion interrupting, the world itself remaining in stasis, not daring to continue onward should the worst follow. Yet time remained an omnipotent authority and unmerciful element of existence, the wave of fire extinguishing in concert with the young man's life, a sick explanation following as the soldier's head became cleanly cleaved across the neck.

"Wh.. What are you?!?"

The confidence and flaunted arrogance dissipated in only seconds, the frontlines halting their advance upon witnessing the brutal death of their comrade. Banners and swords alike fell silent, no longer carrying the rallying cries of dominance and desire for victory, a fable stolen from the virgin glory seekers and ridiculed by those tainted in battle. Shields were raised out of horror despite their usage being trivial, anything creating some sense of a barrier enough comfort for those overwhelmed by the presence of death. Despite superior numbers none dared to trespass any further, the ground ahead despoiled and yet sacred, covered in blood and yet graced by something unfamiliar and greater in purpose then their fleeting lives. Standing before them was the harbinger of this sentiment, a shocking mixture of human appearance with arcane abilities. Adorned in garments of unmatched quality he had a questionable choice of wardrobe for the battlefield, opting for a simplistic ebony vest and pants with any sense of protection or armor completely absent. Brushing aside a lock of scarlet, inhuman eyes gazed toward the newest sacrifices in this false crusade, an infinite amount of color flooding his piercing stare. Taking another step forward, he stifled laughter underneath his breath, his hand still fully outstretched and shadowed by a faded stream of ashen darkness.

"Fallen."

It was a prelude to the slaughter, the moment the word left his lips so did their possession of life no longer be their own. Dashing forward he slipped between the ranks of troops, an ashen fireball amongst a glittering storm of weaponry and fleeing cowards, amplified further in the pathetic cries for salvation and safety. Metal and flesh alike bowed in humble amazement toward flame and magic, his movements erratic with only movement and aggression molding it into a somewhat recognizable rhythm. "You were wrong to consider us unarmed..." A disturbing chant followed his little lecture as he moved within the crumbling assault lines, moving in a graceful and macabre waltz as he grappled the nearest opponent, scorching the unfortunate fool, barely straining to remain conscious as he was immolated alive. Another sudden flicker of scarlet erupted, this time remaining constant as it started detailing itself within his grasp. A dreadful laugh followed as the flames became a mockery of the swords they so cherished, a sapphire glow soon following, bringing great pleasure to Civvris as he firmly grabbed a similar weapon constructed entirely of ice. That display of heretic ritual, combined with his continually unstable bloodlust, managed to overwhelm the facade of bravado and bravery as their formation fell into utter entropy. Fear became their only companion and remaining armament. Gazing toward his twin acquisitions, he only watched silently as the soldiers scattered randomly into the distance.

"We have no need for such conventional artifacts. While without sword or shield, we wield the two strongest weapons ever forged in existence." Plunging the cerulean blade into the cracked earth, waves of ice flowed in pursuit, ebbing and flowing like the tides of war itself. "Power in our left hand..." Without hesitation, he continued that graceful dance, slicing the air in a horizontal arc with the edge of embers, causing a torrent of fire to run rampant across the scorched lands. "Knowledge in our right hand..." Behind him gathered a force legendary across the land and feared without equal, exaggerated into a congregation of devils and demons rather then those gifted with the mortal coil. Monsters? Angels? Nothing more then explanations used to reassure a panicked mind incapable of realizing such foreign realities. Graceful envoys of the heavens themselves, yet also dynamos of malevolent desecration, it was the reason those labeled as Fallen were feared. It was this reason why man determined extermination as the only feasible option, and thus declared war on a race buried in memories and remnants of the heart. Always existing to torment and define us however, the path we have walked can never be forgotten. And sometimes... Sometimes it catches up.

"Make them bleed."

---

Calling themselves Crusaders, a shaky alliance was formed to ensure extinction of those heralding from the skies above. Through hubris recklessness and astonishing capabilities, it was those imbued with the very essence of the skies that forced the lands into perpetual war. Still caught in civil strife and obsessively attempting to best each other, the power we used against each other allowed the numerous armies of the general people to overcome each kingdom reached. Survivors were a rarity and usually migrated onward in a feeble attempt to cease the numerous struggles across the land, others attempting to secure a haven to allow the extension of their bloodline and arcana. This unlimited power started as a mere control over the elements of the heavens themselves, but eventually progressed to even challenge the natural laws and boundaries of existence. As more rulers and kingdoms found ruination, it was our obligation to renew this era and surpass the harsh decree of time itself. This being the last kingdom of the Fallen, it was our father's wish to remain in this moment of splendor and rapture forever. As if taunting us the sky offered a single fortune to our fate, signaling the arrival of either damnation or salvation in the image of the horizon...

---

~The Season Of Eternal Bloom; Ballad Of Warriors ~

... Filled with the noxious vapors of constructs equally unnatural, the answer and equivalent to the blood flowing through their veins. The retreat of the Crusaders' army became a rejuvenation of ferocity as their champions arrived, metallic behemoths that brought devastation wherever they tread. In an ironic and unfortunate twist, it was the ranks of the Fallen that now held disadvantage, the mages trying in vain to ward off the approaching machines. Their attacks nullified and rendered useless, the metallic warriors marched onward, determined to reach the colossal wall surrounding Iromis. Bewilderment turned into desperation as both sides continued their onslaughts, each consecutive moment favoring the invaders as the city became vulnerable to siege. A thunderous quake rattled throughout the kingdom as the first machination reached their last defense, triumph in their grasp as it readied the crucial assault. The era of the Fallen was lost...

"Feh..."

A single arrow flew through the air, cascading downward before burrowing itself into the outside shell of the intruder. At best, it seemed a worthless but admirable act of defiance, but its owner, standing alone against the zenith of the great wall, seemed more then confident of her action. Staring downward, she lowered her bow, satisfied at her marksmanship. A lurid light began to pour downward, distorting itself as it leapt from her bow, blinding everything it encountered. Finally touching the feathered decorations on the tip of the arrow, she snapped her fingers in response, a resounding explosion following as the newest champion found the extent of its power. Unable to control Civvris' ambition and impulse, she had her own methods of restraining her brother's barbaric agenda. Her calm composure slowly eroded as she became annoyed by her allies cowardice, unimpressed that the enemies had such a predictable sort of reinforcements.

"You need not fear such contraptions! We are invincible without equal. Zeal and pride are our armor, unbreakable and immovable." Noticing movement out of the corner of her eye, it was gratifying as the defenses of Iromis became reanimated, drawing their bows in unison as they proudly displayed the true depiction of a warrior. Steady fingers brushed aside the emerald cloak flowing against her form, grasping another arrow and holding it skyward. Her eyes flickered a myriad of colors, as bloodline and pride became her conviction and determination, contradicting that usually stoic demeanor. Focusing her devotion and spirit to that singular point, the steel point shimmered a light beyond the reflection of light, representing the true perception of war and life in one moment. "Cast aside your fears... Your doubts... Your faults... These arrows are the messengers of our souls and hearts!" Aiming her weapon with an expertise unusual for her age, those alongside her followed in tandem, enraptured by her speech and restored in their beliefs. "Release yourself from these imperfections..." Casually she released the projectile, watching as it arced into the skies, falling back downward in its violent waltz. Hundreds followed its path, the people of Iromis throwing aside the pain and regret, completely committed to that singular action.

"... And give them something to truly fear."

A chain of explosions followed, the machines below being swallowed in a maelstrom of elemental magic. A chorus of triumph followed, voices melding together into a harmony of beautiful form and savage distinction. Amused at the complete turnabout, Kurimi could only watch the temporary celebration of her people, abandoning the mindset of a conqueror as her bow lowered to her side. Moments before sorrow and hopelessness plagued the hearts of her city, only another step in the eventual and inevitable outcome of death, but a moment necessary for balance. Despite the heritage of conflict and upbringing more military then the standardized compassion, it was times like this that uplifted her soul and promised her at least a fleeting sense of peace. Like the ravages of war and the unfolding battlefield before them, what the future held was unpredictable and unresponsive in dealing out destinies both fortunate and unfortunate. Therefore, cherishing the here and now and preserving it forever into memory was crucial, the definition of a person itself and something often avoided or under exaggerated. Even amongst the carnage and brutality that eras of strife offered, it was moments like these that reminded us of our identities and resurrected our hopes and dreams. It was a time of calmness and tranquility, if only for even a few mere seconds... In the dirge of war, this was a ballad of warriors.

To her dismay, it passed onward as time renewed its only purpose in existence.

"Only a ripple in an ocean of hatred..." The horizon became blanketed in darkness and turmoil, legions of soldiers and more innovations of despondency connecting the earth with the skies as they marched onward. Those festive shouts became dispelled as the moment left them, that sense of fear and worthlessness cast aside replaced almost immediately. Her grasp of the lightly decorated wooden shaft of the bow became an outlet of rage as she tightened that hold, her expression transforming into a melancholy resentment as she bit her lower lip. Herself and Civvris could only accomplish so much with so little military practice, yet it was both the soldiers of Iromis and its citizens that awaited her father's return. Since the declaration and campaign of the Crusaders, he had experienced an obsession to preserve his empire, even had it meant defying time itself. Kingdoms were meant to fall and eventually return, something those in power must eventually realize and surrender to. It was a truth that slowly destroyed her father's sanity, the only sentiment the people could offer was to delay their defeat into obscurity for as long as possible. They needed a miracle...

"Lady Kurimi! Lady Kurimi!" Her attention was scattered, still lost in that trance and barely hearing her name, almost wishing that she wouldn't have to return to the harsh reality. Raising an eyebrow and sighing slightly underneath her breath, she turned toward the source of the voice, confused as she noticed a scout scrambling amongst the ranks of men. Nearly falling upon arriving, he kneeled in respect to her presence, breathing rapidly in both exhaustion and genuine excitement. In his hands was a document, ornate in appearance and carrying the official stamp of the kingdom. It was... Something from their father? Panting still, he attempted to regain the ability to speak coherently, managing to sputter out a few words that meant the world to everyone that could hear it. "Official.. Instructions from the Lord of Iromis..." Taking the scroll, she unraveled it without a second thought, eyes glancing over the misshapen writing in anticipation and hope. Her father indeed managed to come up with something to combat the invading forces, yet with each line understood her hopes diminished further. Dropping the scroll, she had an expression of inhumane shock, grabbing her bow as she tried to stabilize herself. "Issue a full retreat for our forces! Open the main gate!" She barked those orders without any sense of emotion, nothing but a disturbing urgency carrying those words to her people. Leaping over the castle wall, she looked downward toward what seemed to appear like Hell itself. Behind her, the instructions drifted with the wind, finally resting against the stone of the wall.

- I have finally done it....

I know how to make my kingdom last forever....

All that is needed is to cast aside that which isn't needed...

The Season Of Eternal Bloom begins today. -

~Kingdom Of Sacrifice; Ten Thousand Confessions~

What would you throw away, if it meant having that one moment forever...?

Degnasa reluctantly mulled over that question, knowing the suffering of his people and the endeavor his children were facing; all the while he was forced to restrain himself from offering any kind of assistance or sympathy. Despite his leaving, he was embraced with cries of relief and joyous tidings, leaving his own corridors, which had served as a dungeon and center of meditation for several months. It was there he conducted this pursuit of knowledge, throwing everything else aside in desperation to find an answer to bestow salvation to his loving populace. At least, that was the excuse he constantly told himself, attempting to avoid his own selfish desires in maintaining a rule that wouldn't know the boundaries of time itself. He wished to live his dream for the rest of eternity, the costs and outcomes irrelevant. Passing the inner wall and leaving a garrison to prevent anyone from following, he ordered the main gate to be opened. An agonizing mechanical wailing followed, the age and wear of his territory showing in every aspect, something favorable however compared to the atrocity he was about to witness outside.

A lurid scarlet flowed into his domain, nearly overwhelming the elderly leader, sullen eyes attempting to both adapt to the chaotic display and hide the shame that burdened his conscious and soul. Tattered sapphire robes flowed in the rumbling gales, foreign, as it swept past musty clothing and flesh alike. Several arch mages stepped in front to shield him from the worst, yet they couldn't spare him the shock of the battlefield lying just outside his lands. Remains of bodies littered the ashen plains, strewed against shards of machinery and weaponry, a morbid garden of war that bloomed in his absence and neglect. Straining to see whether any of his subjects remained within the carnage, a shudder followed upon seeing the forms of two generals running toward the portal. Bleeding but still intact, Kurimi attempted to bring her brother with, both somewhat surprised and pleased seeing their father waiting for their return. It wasn't a triumph, but a reunion long overdue between bloodlines. Barely managing a smile, she started moving with more haste, still careful to avoid opening Civvris' wounds further. At last...

(Cont in next post...)

[MoMoMix]

She had suddenly stopped her advance, startling the remaining awareness of her brother, as he looked upward, blood flowing from the wound across his forehead. Their father refrained from gazing back, not offering a gesture of welcome or even concern. It was the absence of courage, to their eventual realization even the disappointment of knowing his children survived the slaughter outside. Or perhaps... Degnasa would have preferred to not have them witness his last effort, knowing the amount of pain it would bring. Bleeding as well Kurimi held on to her brother, forced into a hobble as she pleaded for entrance and the acceptance of their father. She tried to shout his name, her voice faltering and losing itself within the ruined landscape as she continued to abandon hope. It was our moment... Degnasa finally gave them a fleeting glance, nothing but emptiness and a silent begging for forgiveness shown in an expression she couldn't recognize any further. Sighing, he turned away, signaling toward his escort.

"I'm sorry... Close the gates..."

Somehow finding the strength to raise his hand toward the sky, the arch mages around him followed suit, closing their eyes in concentration and beginning a chant that instilled a sense of dread even to its casters. Despite showing no emotion for the entire duration of their return, tears began falling from eyes filled with sadness, remembering those they forgot and had fallen for this moment. The portal closed with a resounding explosion, sealing off the outside and giving a sense of sanity as the turmoil became less prevalent. Around the city wall, arcane symbols became engraved into the stone, giving off an eerie radiance of infinite colors as they neared completion of the ritual. Outside he could barely hear the muffled pleas of the dying, then something that nearly broke his heart. "Father!! Please..!! Open the door!!! Please!!!" Kurimi was banging against the steel gate, furthering the blood loss as she drove herself deeper and deeper into panic and her own personal breakdown. At the risk of disrupting the spell they were casting, he managed to whisper out a single word as he completed the final verse, losing the will to continue as he fell to his knees. His kingdom was bathed in a glorious display of light and magic, a saddening silence following as the congregation joined it, honoring the dead and attempting to cope with their own losses.

".... Sorry...."

And only after everything was done, did he realize what he lost in order to forever have this moment and this kingdom.

---

The people of Iromis were liberated of the invaders, the spell cast being something that Degnasa had for so long searched for. Staying within the promised utopia, the people remained within a moment that was their own, protected by the wishes of their leader and the scarlet flashes beyond the expanse of the walls. No more change. No more hurt. No more pain. It seemed perfect at first. Not knowing of what truly happened, they attempted to continue on in a reign of tranquility that he ensured would last until the ends of time itself. Unable to move onward however, the people continued to wait and grieve, wishing to see those they had lost that day. Mothers, fathers, children, friends... They were given the safety they so wanted, but cruelly robbed of those they wished to be alongside. The arch mage guard and Degnasa returned to isolation, rumored to be because of the tragic loss of Civvris and Kurimi, two generals revered as saviors to their own realm. And without knowing the truth, they heralded Lord Degnasa as a God himself, despite the heartache and emptiness that filled their hearts.

In their honor it was said that ten thousand flowers were planted outside the city grounds, each representing a life lost in the final moments of that dreadful war. Known as the beautiful Emeriste, they were blooms carrying the myth of lasting forever, but having to sacrifice beauty to attain immortality. Rumors circulated about what truly happened outside those city walls, of the spell their Lord had cast and the fates of those that selflessly fought for their existence. Sometimes, when the scarlet glows are brightest at dusk, its been said that if you listen carefully you'll hear voices of those silenced. Some familiar, some foreign, they were memories of tragedy repeatedly told amongst the expanse of blossoms.

Ten thousand lives.

Ten thousand dreams.

Ten thousand confessions.

The Season Of Eternal Bloom begins...

~~~
*Broken Dreams XIII*
~The Season Of Eternal Bloom; Kingdom Of Sacrifice~
~~~

Again, thank you for your time.

[dynaemilse]

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