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EASTERN DISTRICT, MEZTHALUEN ー Weeks after the rings of fire appeared above Bloodstone, strange phenomena continues to plague the city. Early this morning, a cloud of metal appeared above the Eastern District. Witnesses described the sight as a cloud of “liquid metal" to be thirty feet high. The cloud dissipated after a few minutes, raining a silver substance on Kysar alley. 

Local alchemists identified the liquid as a previously-unknown alloy of mercury. Fortunately, nobody was harmed by the “metalfall”, as some residents have taken to call it.

Arcana scholar Tornai Vesuvios reported such a display of magic was "unprecedented" for its lack of arcane source.

"No magical signature, no residual arcana, no traces of psionic activity. Nothing. Normally something of that magnitude should've drawn from one of the planes [of existence]. But, nothing."




Edited by OBELUS

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2.3: Blind Sight

They fall onto a cold marble floor: the girl and the boy. The sound of waves reach their ears. They register the scent of the sea. They lie there, stunned, as they register their surroundings.

[She] is the first to glance around. It is a wary motion that turns to wonder as she stares; they are on a grand pavilion surrounded by an unending sea. Her jaw drops as her eyes rise to the sleek columns that curve gracefully into a domed ceiling. Staircases spiral down from the heights. Steps hang suspended in midair.

[He] is less impressed by the splendor. Once the shock wears off, his critical gaze sweeps the pavilion. It is a well-furnished place. A chaise draped with silks. A flower vase on a low table. An ornately-patterned rug. Foreign designs.

[She] is the first to notice the sisters.

Twins. Mirror images of each other. Fair skin. Fair hair. Barely over a dozen years old. One sits in a wicker chair. Her posture is slumped. She regards the boy with a stern gaze. The other stands behind the first. Milky eyes. Clouded. Blind. Nonetheless, her unseeing gaze is fixed on the boy and the girl.

[She] speaks first. "Who are you?"

The girl in the chair replies.

"Stargate. My sister is Seer. We are the ones who have the answers you seek." 

Footsteps echo from above. The sisters crane their heads up. [They] follow their gaze.

A man descends from one of the staircases. He is dressed simply, but the perfect fit and finery of the cloth doesn't escape the boy's sharp eyes.

The man walks down the stairs at a leisurely place.

"Hello," he says. "Please, take a seat."

[They] sit.

“I am Sovereign,” says the man. “Like you two, I am a Davant.”

“Finally, a bloody explanation.” [He] slams his hands on the table. “T-this place? Our powers? I expect you-” he stabs an accusing finger at the man, “-to clear all this up.”

[She] asks: “Where are we?”

“We are somewhere north of Mezthaluen, within the Great Lake. Excuse the suddenness of all this. You’ve made quite a spectacle back there.”

Sovereign gestures to the girl in the chair. 

“I asked Stargate here to extract you from the situation as quickly as possible. Your identities are of utmost importance; I wouldn’t want you to put yourselves at risk.”

[Their] mouths gape. He raises a hand to silence them, speaking placidly.

“I’m sure you have questions, you wonder where your powers came from. You wonder why you see a misty metropolis when you sleep. I will answer all these, and more, in time. In the meantime, make yourselves comfortable. Tea?”

A feast appears at the table. [She] recoils, pressing back in her chair. But she is hungry. [Their] long morning has tired her.

[She] helps herself to a roll and some fruit. All the while, she keeps her eyes trained on Sovereign.

[He] keeps his hands on his knees, fists clutching the fabric of his trousers.

Sovereign waits until they are settled. He picks up a glass of amber liquid, sips.

“The Davants are the descendants of Davant Spiros. One extraordinary individual who wielded immense powers. Such as ourselves.”

Once again, Sovereign gestures to the sisters. “Stargate, for instance, can create portals anywhere within her sight. Seer, on the other hand, can see through the eyes of any individual of Davant descent.”

[He] shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he realizes the implication.

Sovereign notices. “Yes. She’s been watching you two for a while now. Or rather, watching through you two.” He smiles. “She can lend her sight to others as well. This unique clairvoyance, coupled with Stargate’s power, allowed them to transport you two here.”

[She] interrupts. “But where is here?”

“An extension of my mind,” Sovereign replies calmly. “You see, I am what you would call a reality bender.”

They fall silent at that.

Sovereign takes the chance to continue his explanation. He sets the wine glass down.

“Davant Spiros was one of four siblings— Nomalis, Ingsol, Malark. In their youth, the four Spiros were… let’s say… gifted by a being named Obelus. Political expertise. Supernatural powers. Superior intellect. Arcane proficiency. This was centuries ago. Since then, the descendants of the four have spread across Valucre. Collectively, we call ourselves the Obeli.”

Sovereign folds his hands. “Now, the Lachalom.”

The world shifts around them. [She] is startled to feel a hand grip her wrist; [he] has grown pale, and is breathing hard.

They are sitting in an endless expanse of fog. Around them, fading in and out of sight, are the silhouettes of buildings.

“Don’t worry, this is merely an illusion.” Sovereign says. “We are all awake.

“All Obeli are connected by the Lachalom. It is… let’s say… a plane of existence shared by all of Obeli descent. It’s a reflection of a physical world, with each building representing an Obeli mind. Or soul, depending on what you believe.” Sovereign smiled. “Our mind palaces often reflect our mental states as well. The manifestation of a psyche in a mind palace differs with each person, but for the more lucid, they can shape the contents of these… soul boxes.”

“Not all Obeli can visit the Lachalom. Some never dream of it at all. Some believe that it is our link to Obelus. Each Obeli branch has a different relationship with the Lachalom as well.”

“For us Davants, our connection with the Lachalom is first forged when we elucidate— that is, when we acquire our powers.” Sovereign steeples his fingers. “Elucidations are… a sensitive subject. It is a traumatic event — whether physical or mental — that triggers the awakening of Davants’ powers, often even shaping the nature of the powers themselves.”

[She] reaches a hand up to her face, then stops. [His] grip on her tightens.

“Some of our powers also stem from the Lachalom. Take Seer, for example—” Sovereign inclines his head in her direction.

The girl’s structure in the Lachalom is a shimmering glass tower. At the pinnacle, her sitting figure is silhouetted against the realm’s sourceless glow. As they watch, the girl turns her head toward [him].

“Seer’s power allows her to traverse the Lachalom, leaving her mortal structure. Her consciousness can then enter any Obeli’s mind, seeing what they see, hearing what they hear.”

The scene around them fades. Once again, they are sitting in a grand pavilion, serenaded by the lull of the waves.

“My power,” says Sovereign, “allows me to manifest my constructs in the Lachalom into the physical realm.”

He snaps his fingers, and the feast on the table vanishes.

“But wait,” [he] says, voice quivering. “How many of us Davants are there? You said— you said centuries ago. The first Davant lived centuries ago.”

For the briefest moment, Sovereign hesitated. “Tens of thousands.”

[He] sputters. “Then- wh- why don’t-” [he] flails his hands, “Why don’t we know? You have the answers.”

Sovereign’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Our origins must never be made public. The only ones who retained the knowledge of the Davants and of Obelus were the Sancturion. It was a secret guilt formed by the Progenitor’s children, after he settled in Elendaron.”

His voice trembled. With an exhale, he regained his composure. “The Sancturion... sought to protect the secret of the Davants. For centuries, they took every Davant in Elendaron into their fold. They led them. Trained them to use their powers for good, as the Progenitor did. Those who allied themselves with the Sancturion dedicated themselves to protecting the continent from threats. They were known as the Sanctum.

His gaze grows distant. “It was glorious, back in the old days. But that arrangement was not without its faults. The Sancturion never extended its reach beyond Elendaron. Davants in the other continents were ignorant of their powers. Of their ancestry.”

Stargate’s voice rings loud behind him. “But we’re changing that now.”

“Yes.” Sovereign sighs. “Elendaron is gone. We were the only ones from the Sancturion who managed to escape the continent’s death.”

He fixes his gaze on [them]. “Under the leadership of us three, we intend to rebuild the Sanctum in Genesaris. Beginning with you two, if you agree.”

[They] look at each other.

“We would be helping people?” [she] asked, hesitant. “Using our powers to fight evil?”

Sovereign nods. “Chaos reigns everywhere. We’ll train you. You’ll be assisting us in locating more Davants so we can give them the help they need. I can provide for you with my powers— food, clothing, finances.”

[His] eyes widened. “That is- that’s a good deal.” [He] squints, still suspicious. “I’ll take it.”

“A chance to use my powers for good… yes, I’ll join you,” [she] says.

Sovereign smiles. He pulls his chair forward, nearer to the table.

“Now. Let me tell you about your first task.”

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