Amelia tumbled into a void so white, it could blind a polar bear with sunglasses. When the swirling settled, she found herself nose-to-nose with her own reflection, looking like Cindy after a particularly fabulous fairy godmother intervention. Gone was the maid's uniform, replaced by a gown so blue it'd make Smurfs faint, shimmering like moonlight dripped onto liquid diamonds. Leaning against a tea table that defied gravity was Eydis, looking regal enough to dethrone Marie Antoinette without spilling a drop of her perfectly manicured tea. Her smirk held the smugness of a cat who'd just swallowed the canary, with a side of knowing amusement.
“Summoning me now, really?” Amelia quipped, raising an eyebrow at her doppelganger. "Though, that smirk? It's starting to wear thin, like last season's fashion."
"Well, well, hello to you too," Eydis purred, her voice laced with smugness. "First day back, and you've already charmed her enough for several standing ovations. Consider me impressed, or, frankly, just deafened."
Amelia sank onto the ethereal chair opposite, a scowl etching lines on her usually nonchalant face. "Who said you could watch, nevermind listen? Did you know this 'true love's kiss' charade would be…so extra?"
Eydis grinned, mischief glinting in her eyes as she swept aside her bangs revealing an unsettling familiarity. "Side effects of sharing the same body, darling. A small price to pay for accessing my millennia of... let's call it wisdom." Her smile softened, a hint of something deeper flickering in her eyes. "Besides, I had a hunch it wasn't her body that needed healing, but her heart. And divinity isn’t the only essence needed to…wake her.”
Amelia scoffed, a blush flitting across her cheeks. "Couldn't have given me a heads-up? My back still aches from her dreamland passion."
Eydis rolled her eyes, a movement that mirrored Amelia's own with uncanny precision. "Don't play coy, my favourite hacker," Eydis purred, amusement dancing in her golden eyes. "You enjoyed it. Astra was trapped in her own dream, fearing waking to find you... gone. Her joy at your 'resurrection' was, shall we say, earth-shatteringly and deafeningly enthusiastic."
Amelia traced the delicate swirls of the cup, her gaze softening like melted honey. "Her emotions," she breathed, "a tidal wave crashing against my very soul.”
Eydis leaned closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Intoxicating, wouldn't you say? They touched my ancient heart too, you know. Every kiss, every touch... we both felt them."
Amelia raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning like a boomerang. "Don't think this is an invitation for a permanent takeover, especially during..."
A melancholic smile played on Eydis's lips. "Bound to your will, Amelia. Your energy is... consuming, even in your weakened state."
"Then next time," Amelia warned, her voice low and playful, "ditch the damsel routine. We both know riddles are our playground, but maybe tone down the theatrics."
Eydis chuckled, the sound tinged with self-deprecation. "Oh, you wound me, mon amie," she said, attempting a playful wink that resulted in a comical double-blink. “We both know we can't resist a good puzzle,” she said, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. “After all, we share the same blood. Perhaps even a weakness for forbidden fruit."
Amelia's smile vanished, replaced by a sharp glint. "Another question, Eydis. This 'God,' just what can he do?"
Eydis's usual flippant demeanour evaporated. A heavy silence descended between them, punctuated only by the clinking of cooled teacups. "Mostly what Indigo hinted at," she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. "God controls the Imperial family, especially the Emperor. Think of him as... the conduit, the interface, if you'll allow me to borrow some of your 'nerd jargon.'"
"And the other nobles?" Amelia pressed, her impatience thinly veiled.
Eydis sighed, taking a slow sip. "This...well, it requires a bit more explaining."
Amelia rolled her eyes. "No time for a ten-chapter flashback, Eydis. I need facts."
The ‘noble’ woman smirked, amusement flickering in her golden eyes. "Rude, but fair," she conceded. "Long story short, he has... leverage. Over everyone with even a whisper of magic in their veins. He exploits our weaknesses, manipulates us through illusions and whispers, bending us to his will. Not puppets, no, but not truly free either."
Amelia leaned back, crossing her arms. "So this war isn't just against 'God,' is it? It's against the entire noble system."
A humourless smile played on Eydis's lips, her gaze hardening like steel. "You're aligning yourself with the losing side, dear hacker. The side destined to crumble. God has an army of mages at his beck and call, while you scramble with a ragtag four, yourself included."
"And neutrality served you well?" Amelia countered, her voice sharp. "Centuries of knowledge, hidden behind a mask of boredom and suicidal whims, flitting through palaces like a ghost. Was that truly wisdom, or was it just fear?"
Eydis's smile faltered, her eyes narrowing into a dangerous glint. "It takes one to know one," she muttered, the playful mask momentarily slipping. "You'd do the same, given my power. Don't let affection blind you to truth. You're not a hero, just another player in this game. Take your precious Astra and flee. Let the world burn, for what difference does it make?"
Ignoring the jab, Amelia pressed on, her voice urgent. "Then how do they break free? Can Astra and I…ignite a spark within them? Awaken them from this mental slumber?"
Eydis shook her head, a flicker of despair crossing her face. "Individual mind leaps?" she scoffed. "Do you have any idea the strain it would put on you, on her? His grasp is insidious, Amelia. They're on their own now, adrift in a sea of whispers. The only question is, are they strong enough to hear their own voices above his?"
**
The wind whipped snowflakes against Elias's face, each bite a stark reminder of the sun-drenched meadows of Terravale. He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing the laughter echoing through his adolescent home, a warmth that felt a million miles away.
A crunch of footsteps made him turn. Adam, his sapphire eyes sparkling with playful mischief, threw a snowball at Elias. The icy projectile caught him off guard, eliciting a surprised laugh.
"Enjoying Silverkeep's hospitality, Elias?" Adam asked, a grin tugging at his lips.
Elias swatted the snow off his cloak, a playful smile lingering on his face. "More 'tolerating' than 'enjoying,' I'd say. Not exactly Terravale sunbeams, are they?"
Adam's gaze softened. "Missing the academy already?"
Elias shook his head, but a wistful sigh escaped his lips. "No, but even challenges have their charm, right? Like this..." He gestured to the swirling snow around them.
Adam's grin faded slightly, a flicker of something deeper crossing his eyes. "Always one to take things in stride," he murmured, his voice losing its playful edge. "Even when it comes to... throwing a match."
Elias tensed, surprised. "Just tired," he quickly muttered, gaze dropping.
Adam frowned. “We both know that’s not true. You’re only here for me, aren’t you?” Adam murmured, his hand—warm and unexpected—closing against Elias’s.
The world narrowed, the snowy landscape fading. His vision tunnelled down to Adam's warm hand enclosing his, a lifeline in the swirling white. His own feelings, a tightly guarded secret, threatened to spill out. He knew Adam didn't feel the same.
His voice came out a hoarse whisper, lost in the wind. "Just looking out for a friend," he muttered, the desperation barely veiled. He wouldn't burden Adam with his unrequited love. Friendship was enough, as long as Adam was safe.
Adam sighed, his gaze locking onto Elias's with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. "And I know you held back your true potential... for me. But I'm different now. I believe in myself."
"I always believe in you, Adam," Elias whispered, blinking away unshed tears.
Adam's grip tightened. "I know how you feel, Elias. For a long time, I was lost, consumed by my own demons. But you never gave up on me. You saw the light I couldn't see myself. There's more to life than magic, isn't there?" His voice cracked, the words tinged with pain.
Elias couldn't meet his eyes. "Are you..." his voice cracked, laden with insecurity, "appalled by it?"
A melancholy chuckle escaped Adam's lips, laced with a hint of something deeper. "Remember? All the brightest stars shine differently." His gaze held Elias's captive, searching for understanding. "It was an honor to receive your feelings, Elias. Even if I don't fully understand them or..." he trailed off, a pained vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "But know this, Elias," he continued, his voice firm yet tender, "your feelings matter. You matter.”
Elias felt his soul ache with a kaleidoscope of emotions: relief, hope, and a deep, gnawing disappointment. He finally lifted his eyes, meeting Adam's gaze with a bittersweet smile. "You don't have to reciprocate," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "It's enough for me." (Except it wasn't.) The thought echoed silently in his mind, a counterpoint to his words.
Yet, Elias would accept anything from Adam, even a sliver of affection. As if sensing his struggle, Adam shook his head, a pained smile gracing his features. "It was me who should be ashamed. Blinded by my own misery, I didn't see you. It was me who didn't deserve you. So Elias, could you..."
He swallowed, the unspoken plea hanging heavy on his tongue. Wait for me. That was what Adam yearned to say, but before the words could form, a flash of golden light erupted around Elias, engulfing him in its blinding glow.
Adam's head throbbed, his vision fading to black. The last thing he registered was the unspoken promise lost in the relentless snowfall. Silverkeep's twilight swallowed them whole, leaving only the echo of their words and the chilling mystery of their disappearance.
Building an army are we?
Their army of four seemed to hold on well so far