Main Residence
Bane Dukedom, Bloodhaven
North Gregoria
September 21st
Year 2060
The Bane estate stood untouched.
Not untouched by time, but untouched by chaos.
While the outer districts of Bloodhaven flickered between order and collapse, the Dukedom grounds remained eerily stable. The lights burned steadily. The barriers hummed faintly beneath the surface, invisible but present.
Like the land itself refused to break.
———————
Within the main residence, was a room.
The room was vast.
Not unnecessarily extravagant, but deliberate.
High ceilings arched overhead, supported by carved obsidian pillars veined faintly with gold lines that pulsed almost imperceptibly, like a sleeping heartbeat. The walls were white, broken only by intricate engravings, old crests, ancient scripts, symbols of a lineage that had existed long before the city surrounding it.
A massive window stretched across one side of the chamber, framed in dark metal. Beyond it, the Dukedom grounds spread in perfect symmetry, gardens untouched, pathways unbroken, guards stationed like statues.
Everything outside was chaos.
Everything here was controlled.
At the center of the room sat a low table of polished oak. A tea set rested atop it, untouched, the steam long since faded. Nearby, a wide bed draped in deep blue fabrics remained perfectly made….unused.
No sign of rest, No sign of peace.
A beautiful girl paced.
Back and forth.
Again.
And again.
Her heels clicked sharply against the polished marble floor, the sound echoing cleanly through the chamber.
She carried herself with a natural grace that never quite left her, even in agitation. Tall, poised, with a figure that leaned more toward elegance than softness. Her long hair previously blonde now a luminous white flowed freely down her back, smooth and luminous under the chamber's light, occasionally swaying with each sharp turn she made.
Her eyes, clear, emerald green, were narrowed in frustration, but beneath that was something harder to hide.
Worry.
Real worry.
She wore a fitted dark navy dress, simple in design but clearly crafted from fine material, the fabric hugging her frame without excess ornament. A thin gold trim lined the edges, subtle but deliberate, matching the faint insignia of the Bane family. A Behemoth. Resting near her collar. Over it, a light outer coat hung loosely from her shoulders, half-worn, as though she hadn't decided whether she was staying…or leaving.
"…This is bad."
She stopped.
Then resumed pacing.
"…This is really bad."
Standing a few steps behind her was a beautiful young woman dressed in a pristine black-and-white uniform. She had long black hair tied in a bun and piercing blue eyes. Composed. Still. Unshaken.
Her personal maid.
"Lady Aurelia," the maid spoke calmly, "you've said that seven times in the last two minutes."
Aurelia shot her a glare.
"And I'll say it eight if this keeps getting worse, Mira."
Mira bowed her head slightly.
"As you wish."
Aurelia exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, fingers catching briefly in the white strands before pulling away.
"I can't reach him anymore. No signal. No trace. Nothing." Her voice dropped slightly. "And this is him we're talking about."
Mira's expression didn't change.
"Master Ishmael has always been….difficult."
"That's not the point," Aurelia snapped, before pausing.
Her shoulders eased slightly.
"…He's out there. Alone. During an Ascension Event."
Silence settled for a moment.
Then….
"He'll survive."
Aurelia glanced back at Mira, her blue eyes narrowing slightly.
"…You sound very sure."
"I am."
A beat.
"But survival," Mira added calmly, "and remaining unchanged are not the same thing."
Aurelia froze.
Her expression tightened, the worry she had been holding back surfacing just slightly.
"…Don't say things like that." She added coldly.
Mira lowered her gaze.
"My apologies."
Aurelia turned away again, walking toward the massive window. Her reflection faintly followed her in the glass, composed, noble… but restless.
From here, she could see the faint shimmer of the Dukedom's outer barrier—a thin distortion in the air that separated order from collapse.
"…The gates….Ascension zones are opening," she muttered. "The Dukedom, the whole of Gregoria is unstable… and father still hasn't made a public move."
Mira stepped forward slightly.
"His Grace has already begun…..preparations."
Aurelia's eyes narrowed.
"…Of course he has."
A pause.
Then she turned sharply, the coat on her shoulders shifting slightly with the motion.
"Take me to him."
Mira didn't move immediately.
"…His Grace is currently in the lower sanctum."
"I know where he is."
"Then you also know," Mira replied calmly, "that access is restricted during his preparations."
Aurelia's expression darkened.
"I'm not asking for permission, Mira."
A brief silence.
Then—
Mira bowed.
"…Understood."
——————
Bane Dukedom — Lower Sanctum Entrance
——————
The transition was immediate.
Warmth vanished.
The polished elegance of the upper estate gave way to something older.
Colder.
The corridor leading to the sanctum was carved from dark stone, the walls lined with faintly glowing inscriptions that pulsed slowly, like they were alive. The air grew heavier with each step, pressing gently against the lungs.
Ancient.
Not decorative.
Functional.
Power rested here.
Aurelia stopped just before the sealed doors.
Massive.
Black.
Covered in layered engravings that shifted faintly when not directly observed. Symbols overlapping symbols, as if rewritten across generations.
The light beneath them pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Like a heartbeat.
She clenched her fist slightly.
"…He started it already."
Mira remained behind her.
Silent.
Respectful.
Aurelia took a step forward then stopped. Something pressed against her senses, stopping her in her tracks.
Not physical.
Not visible.
Just… presence.
An ancient suffocating presence that seemed boundless.
Her expression tightened, her posture straightening instinctively, nobility replacing unease.
"…So it's true."
A faint voice echoed from beyond the doors.
Calm.
Measured.
Absolute.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to come down here."
Aurelia's eyes hardened. 'He knew'
"…Father." She muttered as she bowed.
Silence.
Then,
"The world has begun its…..correction," the voice continued. "You should not be here."
Aurelia stepped closer to the door, her reflection faintly visible against the dark surface.
"Mael is still out there."
A pause.
A long one.
"…Yes," came the reply.
That was it.
No concern.
No urgency.
Just acknowledgment.
Aurelia's jaw tightened.
"You knew this would happen."
Another pause.
Then—
"I knew something would."
Her hands clenched at her sides.
"That's not good enough."
Silence.
Then the faint glow on the door pulsed once.
Stronger.
"…Return to your quarters, Aurelia. "
Her eyes sharpened.
"…No."
The pressure behind the door increased slightly.
Not threatening.
Just… final.
"Ishmael made his choice," her father said calmly.
Aurelia's expression darkened.
"…He's still your son."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"That is precisely why he will survive…Now go…"
Silence.
Heavy.
Unmoving.
Aurelia stood there for a moment longer, her expression unreadable now.
Then turned.
"…We're leaving."
Mira followed without question.
——————-
Outer Heliodor
The city was louder now.
More chaotic.
More alive.
Ishmael moved through it calmly, stealthily
Step by step.
Katana strapped lightly to his waist.
His eyes scanned everything.
Shadows.
Movement.
Energy.
"…The whole world's gone to shit huh, huh."
A faint pulse ran through his chest again.
Steady.
Responsive.
Unfamiliar.
But his.
"…Guess I'll see what's left of it."
And without hesitation
He kept walking.