My family's been helping maintain Aniralia's Lantern since it was first created. It's a story that goes back to when the country's founders were claiming the nation's land by fire and sword - that so long as flames within our hearts were never extinguished, the country would always remain prosperous... or, something like that.
I always took it to be an old myth, though my parents and grandparents and all the other people who came before take it as the cold truth. It's really just a metaphor, isn't it? I don't think we need something like the Lantern just to keep the entire country running, we have all sorts of other people for that. Or at least, we had.
I don't know if it has something to do with the fact that everyone around me pretends live in an old farming village when I know the metropolis is just a few miles away. I think it has something to do with how they believe spirits that don't exist. Or, well, magic exists, else the Lumen Arts wouldn't be a thing. But not spirits.
Still, when all these random people from who knows where started coming into Aniralia by the dozen, people got really angry. They thought that my family was supposed to do something about it, they got angry when they never did anything and sat at the table and kept arguing for days about the right and proper way to do it, "like our founders wanted." It's as ridiculous to you as it is to me.
It only gets worse and worse each day, I can't even walk out my door without worrying if there's somebody behind the corner, waiting to threaten me about something I don't already know. Life's just not going to go like this. We're at a standstill.
I've got a plan to take the Flames from the Lantern tonight, while everyone's asleep, and head out into the city. Maybe I'll be able to finally figure out what's going on, since I guess nobody else will. Why's a nobody named Amber from some countryside have to be responsible for all of Aniralia though... I guess I'll have to find that out myself.
I always took it to be an old myth, though my parents and grandparents and all the other people who came before take it as the cold truth. It's really just a metaphor, isn't it? I don't think we need something like the Lantern just to keep the entire country running, we have all sorts of other people for that. Or at least, we had.
I don't know if it has something to do with the fact that everyone around me pretends live in an old farming village when I know the metropolis is just a few miles away. I think it has something to do with how they believe spirits that don't exist. Or, well, magic exists, else the Lumen Arts wouldn't be a thing. But not spirits.
Still, when all these random people from who knows where started coming into Aniralia by the dozen, people got really angry. They thought that my family was supposed to do something about it, they got angry when they never did anything and sat at the table and kept arguing for days about the right and proper way to do it, "like our founders wanted." It's as ridiculous to you as it is to me.
It only gets worse and worse each day, I can't even walk out my door without worrying if there's somebody behind the corner, waiting to threaten me about something I don't already know. Life's just not going to go like this. We're at a standstill.
I've got a plan to take the Flames from the Lantern tonight, while everyone's asleep, and head out into the city. Maybe I'll be able to finally figure out what's going on, since I guess nobody else will. Why's a nobody named Amber from some countryside have to be responsible for all of Aniralia though... I guess I'll have to find that out myself.
The lights of the skyscrapers twinkled as artificial stars, dotting the indigo sky for the commuting workers underneath. But a tension in the air filled the usual shuffle, the occasional awkward "sorry" as shoulders bumped into one another. People who would normally be looking towards their destinations were looking upward to the stars.
A sudden shout; looks like somebody had seen the first signs of it. A sudden snapping in the windowpanes above as they shattered into thousand of glistening, ominous shards, the telltale cracks of gunfire heralding the storm. Just in front of them was a blur or bright yellow and dark blue, just barely staying ahead of the barrage as it traced the sides of the office building windows.
A young woman wrapped in a light combat suit of bandage-like cloth, armed with a heavy machine gun, gave pursuit at the blur evading her bullets, who could now be seen as a saber-wielding darkly suited man. The gunslinger, Juliet Delgor, withdrew a sniper rifle from seemingly thin air, taking aim. The swordsman, Meta, took notice and leaped off the side of the buildings, trying to evade her aim, but it was far too late, and at this distance, Juliet could keep a bead--!
But an arrow silently pounced into the corner of Juliet's vision, forcing her to leap away. A few more arrows flying erratically followed, and as Juliet was forced to retreat, she could see an elf in all-leather, an archer's bow glistening in fire raised at him. The archer, Aran, scowled a little as he suddenly turned, suspecting that with his position given away, somebody would pounce on him.
And he was right. A reptilian girl, dressed in full protective combat gear, glided down towards him from an unknown vantage point, lashing out with claws. Aran jumped away as the dragon, Rebecca Drake, drew a pistol and fired, but not before Aran let yet another nocked arrow loose, this one exploding into flame.
Rebecca only had moments to react, holding her arms up to take the hit, but a sudden frame of shadow seemed to manifest in front of her, and the arrow sizzled away before even coming in contact. The shadow parted to reveal a woman in a casual black outfit, carefully balancing a sword in her hand. The traveler, Aria, pushed Rebecca back and began to give chase herself, only for a laser to ring true from a separate rooftop, stopping her as light collided with dark in a dazzling explosion.
Aria turned to see a pale mage dressed in all white, carrying a tome that was turning its pages on its own. The mage, Alex Carëluntë, quickly followed up with a swarm of light missiles as Aria began to run, leaping off the rooftop and into a neglected alleyway. She rushed through a door just as Alex caught up to her in pursuit, flinging several magic spells through the doorway, but failing to hit anything.
Alex followed inside to see where Aria had gone... but as he held a globe of light to illuminate his surroundings, all he saw was a series of neatly lined bookshelves to the brim. Just as he was about to turn around, he suddenly felt a foreboding aura, turning around to see an tightly dressed man wielding a conductor's baton that seemed to shine even in this pitch-dark place.
Alex tried to strike back, but the conductor, Sam, deflected each of the spells one by one before deftly swinging. It took all of the mage's effort to block the hit and avoid injury, but he was still sent careening into the bookshelves, destroying them and scattering the books as the deflected missiles of light singed some of the library's tomes. But Sam remained alert as he became aware of an eccentric but furious man carrying a tome of his own, having mysteriously arrived just outside the library's entrance.
Sam tried to run, but the record keeper, the Eighth Poet, suddenly let loose a huge wave of elemental magic, threatening to wash the conductor's life away... if not for the magic suddenly being blocked by what seemed to be a crackling invisible wall. The illusion faded to reveal a stalwart barrier of plasma blocking the entirety of the building's side, and a man in powered armor standing next to it. The renegade, Drake Stanton, now stood between Sam and Eight, preventing one from harming the other.
Or he would have, if a flaming sledgehammer hadn't suddenly been thrown Drake's way. He only got a breath's worth of relief before a rugged man in baggy, laid-back gear ran up to him, fists raised, throwing fire here and there. He eventually got away before the rapper, Diego Harte, could land any secure hits, erecting another plasma barrier to stop Diego's assault as well.
Then Drake's eyes widened as she saw a finely, but heavily dressed woman carrying a razor-lined whip approach the barrier from Diego's side, and walk through it like it was thin air. The cult's mistress, Muriel Elward, flashed a sinister smirk before experimentally swinging with the whip, threatening to cleave Drake then and there.
Only for a motorcycle to phase into the space right in front of her, threatening to mow her down! Muriel barely had time to duck to her side as the motorcycle missed by centimeters and began a sharp turn to skid to a stop just outside the alleyway's entrance. She could tell just from looking at it; this motorcycle was being possessed by a phantom. The phantom, Kurt, almost seemed to be taunting him now, especially with the passenger riding on top of it.
The older man riding the bike methodically disembarked and slowly adjusted his synthetic hand, weighing the mace in his right. The saboteur, Collin Tentufor, grimaced as he winded his arm back and tossed the mass, its flight seemingly being guided by his mental willpower alone!
But instead of hitting a target, it would hit a shield. A wolf in humanoid form, dressed in heavy plate armor and bearing a shield, beared his fangs as light radiated from his open palm. The warpriest, Thanos Silverclaw, beckoned Muriel, Diego and Eight to stay back as he would face Collin on his own.
But this would not be the one-on-one Thanos had imagined. Spirits, familiars, suddenly emerged from the ground around him, their limbs restraining and pinning him. From his position, pressed to the ground, he could see two figures: a silently laughing Collin, and a sharply dressed elderly, weary man in green, nodding in approval. This mastermind, Theodulus, waved his hand so as to tell the familiars to carry Thanos away.
But they wouldn't, as a torrent of water rushed forward to sweep them aside, far and away from Thanos. A trident-carrying magician in royal robes arrived on the scene, with a warning stare of disapproval at Theo and Collin. The magician, Impromptu Sorida, raised the trident as it brimmed with holy light, ready to stop the two villains here and now.
But Impromptu paused, feeling a sudden disturbance in Theodulus's spirit. A demon revealed himself to the mage's perception, adjusting his suit with an all-knowing smirk. The demon, Cedrik, raised his hand and flung upon Impromptu a bomb of hellfire, the mage only barely able to raise a barrier of crystal as the fire surged and blasted the surroundings into a soul-scraping inferno.
And gazing into that inferno, from a small distance away, was a young girl, dressed in light brown coat and dirtied jeans, a ceremonial silk scarf of white and red wrapped tied to her right arm. She sighed, knowing that someday, this destruction had to end, and someone had to bring a stop to all of this, and that for some reason or another, she was the one who had to do it.
She withdrew a white-hot blade from a holster on her hip, its blade engraved with the ancient words of the land she stood on, before leaping towards the inferno, flaring crimson wings of flame parting the firestorm below her. As Amber Lumen flew forward, she swiveled around to swing the blade in her hands, ready to stop this fight and find the end to this crisis her world was trapped in.
A sudden shout; looks like somebody had seen the first signs of it. A sudden snapping in the windowpanes above as they shattered into thousand of glistening, ominous shards, the telltale cracks of gunfire heralding the storm. Just in front of them was a blur or bright yellow and dark blue, just barely staying ahead of the barrage as it traced the sides of the office building windows.
A young woman wrapped in a light combat suit of bandage-like cloth, armed with a heavy machine gun, gave pursuit at the blur evading her bullets, who could now be seen as a saber-wielding darkly suited man. The gunslinger, Juliet Delgor, withdrew a sniper rifle from seemingly thin air, taking aim. The swordsman, Meta, took notice and leaped off the side of the buildings, trying to evade her aim, but it was far too late, and at this distance, Juliet could keep a bead--!
But an arrow silently pounced into the corner of Juliet's vision, forcing her to leap away. A few more arrows flying erratically followed, and as Juliet was forced to retreat, she could see an elf in all-leather, an archer's bow glistening in fire raised at him. The archer, Aran, scowled a little as he suddenly turned, suspecting that with his position given away, somebody would pounce on him.
And he was right. A reptilian girl, dressed in full protective combat gear, glided down towards him from an unknown vantage point, lashing out with claws. Aran jumped away as the dragon, Rebecca Drake, drew a pistol and fired, but not before Aran let yet another nocked arrow loose, this one exploding into flame.
Rebecca only had moments to react, holding her arms up to take the hit, but a sudden frame of shadow seemed to manifest in front of her, and the arrow sizzled away before even coming in contact. The shadow parted to reveal a woman in a casual black outfit, carefully balancing a sword in her hand. The traveler, Aria, pushed Rebecca back and began to give chase herself, only for a laser to ring true from a separate rooftop, stopping her as light collided with dark in a dazzling explosion.
Aria turned to see a pale mage dressed in all white, carrying a tome that was turning its pages on its own. The mage, Alex Carëluntë, quickly followed up with a swarm of light missiles as Aria began to run, leaping off the rooftop and into a neglected alleyway. She rushed through a door just as Alex caught up to her in pursuit, flinging several magic spells through the doorway, but failing to hit anything.
Alex followed inside to see where Aria had gone... but as he held a globe of light to illuminate his surroundings, all he saw was a series of neatly lined bookshelves to the brim. Just as he was about to turn around, he suddenly felt a foreboding aura, turning around to see an tightly dressed man wielding a conductor's baton that seemed to shine even in this pitch-dark place.
Alex tried to strike back, but the conductor, Sam, deflected each of the spells one by one before deftly swinging. It took all of the mage's effort to block the hit and avoid injury, but he was still sent careening into the bookshelves, destroying them and scattering the books as the deflected missiles of light singed some of the library's tomes. But Sam remained alert as he became aware of an eccentric but furious man carrying a tome of his own, having mysteriously arrived just outside the library's entrance.
Sam tried to run, but the record keeper, the Eighth Poet, suddenly let loose a huge wave of elemental magic, threatening to wash the conductor's life away... if not for the magic suddenly being blocked by what seemed to be a crackling invisible wall. The illusion faded to reveal a stalwart barrier of plasma blocking the entirety of the building's side, and a man in powered armor standing next to it. The renegade, Drake Stanton, now stood between Sam and Eight, preventing one from harming the other.
Or he would have, if a flaming sledgehammer hadn't suddenly been thrown Drake's way. He only got a breath's worth of relief before a rugged man in baggy, laid-back gear ran up to him, fists raised, throwing fire here and there. He eventually got away before the rapper, Diego Harte, could land any secure hits, erecting another plasma barrier to stop Diego's assault as well.
Then Drake's eyes widened as she saw a finely, but heavily dressed woman carrying a razor-lined whip approach the barrier from Diego's side, and walk through it like it was thin air. The cult's mistress, Muriel Elward, flashed a sinister smirk before experimentally swinging with the whip, threatening to cleave Drake then and there.
Only for a motorcycle to phase into the space right in front of her, threatening to mow her down! Muriel barely had time to duck to her side as the motorcycle missed by centimeters and began a sharp turn to skid to a stop just outside the alleyway's entrance. She could tell just from looking at it; this motorcycle was being possessed by a phantom. The phantom, Kurt, almost seemed to be taunting him now, especially with the passenger riding on top of it.
The older man riding the bike methodically disembarked and slowly adjusted his synthetic hand, weighing the mace in his right. The saboteur, Collin Tentufor, grimaced as he winded his arm back and tossed the mass, its flight seemingly being guided by his mental willpower alone!
But instead of hitting a target, it would hit a shield. A wolf in humanoid form, dressed in heavy plate armor and bearing a shield, beared his fangs as light radiated from his open palm. The warpriest, Thanos Silverclaw, beckoned Muriel, Diego and Eight to stay back as he would face Collin on his own.
But this would not be the one-on-one Thanos had imagined. Spirits, familiars, suddenly emerged from the ground around him, their limbs restraining and pinning him. From his position, pressed to the ground, he could see two figures: a silently laughing Collin, and a sharply dressed elderly, weary man in green, nodding in approval. This mastermind, Theodulus, waved his hand so as to tell the familiars to carry Thanos away.
But they wouldn't, as a torrent of water rushed forward to sweep them aside, far and away from Thanos. A trident-carrying magician in royal robes arrived on the scene, with a warning stare of disapproval at Theo and Collin. The magician, Impromptu Sorida, raised the trident as it brimmed with holy light, ready to stop the two villains here and now.
But Impromptu paused, feeling a sudden disturbance in Theodulus's spirit. A demon revealed himself to the mage's perception, adjusting his suit with an all-knowing smirk. The demon, Cedrik, raised his hand and flung upon Impromptu a bomb of hellfire, the mage only barely able to raise a barrier of crystal as the fire surged and blasted the surroundings into a soul-scraping inferno.
And gazing into that inferno, from a small distance away, was a young girl, dressed in light brown coat and dirtied jeans, a ceremonial silk scarf of white and red wrapped tied to her right arm. She sighed, knowing that someday, this destruction had to end, and someone had to bring a stop to all of this, and that for some reason or another, she was the one who had to do it.
She withdrew a white-hot blade from a holster on her hip, its blade engraved with the ancient words of the land she stood on, before leaping towards the inferno, flaring crimson wings of flame parting the firestorm below her. As Amber Lumen flew forward, she swiveled around to swing the blade in her hands, ready to stop this fight and find the end to this crisis her world was trapped in.