In the long corridor, my footsteps echo loudly. My apprehensive breathing is the only sound as I hastily walk to my destination. A lump forms in my throat. I don't want to be here, nor do I want to do my current task. The tails of my silky white dress flip with my quick movements. My bare feet slap against the cold marble floor of the castle. I avoid looking at myself in the countless mirrors on either side of the brightly lit hallway. I'm just one of many of the Earl's servants, a sisterhood by oath and by blood. We have many mothers but share the same father. Many of us hold the belief that the Earl is our father. I have my doubts. It would be a cruel fate for anyone. I have long, silky white hair and crystal-clear golden eyes, unlike any of my sisters. For one, he is male. A curse our father suffers. He birthed hundreds of daughters in his madness but not a single son. I am the eldest, having just turned nineteen on the last full moon.
My breasts jiggle as I walk faster to reach my destination. Though my legs are long and toned, they are thick. Thoughts of angering the Earl dance in my mind. I have the unfortunate curse of having the Earl's favor. He admires my "intriguing body." It's terrifying to know such a thing. The massive chamber doors come into view, guarded by his most elite soldiers. A mindless bunch of Godly, strong beings. Whether they are human or something else is a mystery.
The towering guardians eye me as I approach. Almost all the elite receive a special gift as a reward for their loyalty in the form of our mothers. As the Earl puts it, "Only the best for his most trusted to lay their seed in." And that is what they do. I am aware of my many smaller siblings from these men. It keeps them loyal. Considering their strength, I suppose they fear the Earl as much as I do. Both stare at me for several moments before opening the chamber doors.
Inside, there is an office and a bedroom. The Earl sits at his desk with his back turned. This is the highest point in the castle. I can see the glaciers the castle overlooks. A deep chasm surrounds the castle, making any attack impossible. I rarely see the Earl. None of my other sisters have really seen him.
"Cilona Shadowsoul... how good of you to join me tonight," the Earl says.
He slightly turns, looking at me. Behind his shiny round glasses, his eyes are hidden. That weird top hat he always wears helps conceal his face. It has a red cloth around it, giving the impression of blood. His smile is ever-present, showing his clean white teeth that sometimes remind me of a monster. He stands, revealing his heavyset yet tall frame. His clothes differ from what I know of the world. He wears a black suit with a white shirt and a black ribbon around his neck. He carries a weird-looking cane with a disturbing head. His hands are gloved in white cloth. He bows as he turns toward me.
"I... I'm here to inform you that the Fates have arrived here in Yura," I say weakly.
"Awe, here in our little old continent. Which set are we talking about here?" he says cheerfully, sounding like an old man as he chuckles.
"I don't understand what you mean," I say.
"My dear Cilona, there are, in fact, three sets of Fates that have appeared here in this world of Elona. The games are about to start," the Earl says.
The unnatural laughter from his mouth sends chills down my spine. He dances like it's the beginning of some festival.
---
Our journey requires us to travel a great distance. Centuries have passed since The Crescent Moon called our devoted order to arms. Our Order, the August Rose, has shared a loose alliance with them since before the First Virgin Trinity. Another time forgotten by our elders, who now hold power within their ranks. Our Lady and Light of the August Rose has sent my sister, me, and Lady Lelandria to fulfill our destinies. Though her mission lies elsewhere, our Lady and Light commanded us to determine how many of our sisters have faithful devotion to whatever our ally requests. Her orders are explicit.
"Lady Nephiliana and Lady Kaia, if this call to arms is not what it seems, I authorize you to terminate talks at once. Give them only the minimum amount of the blood of our sisters to appease their needs. I do not wish to be drawn into a pointless crusade," the Red Knight remarked.
Our mission is to serve the Virgin Trinity with undying commitment if and when they return, as the prophecy predicts. Sources reveal this is the current consensus. Why the Crescent Moon would mobilize now is fascinating. Though they have no allegiance to Sidra, they are a noble organization, taking up arms for those who cannot. My sister rides next to me, silent in her conviction as ever. My intuition implies she is less than delighted about our current mission. Still, we are both Knight Captains. We must carry out our Red Knights' orders. She is our Lady and Light, after all.
We should reach the Burg of Chesterberry soon. This is where we will meet the First Paladin. Unfortunately, the Red Knight provided little information on who this man was. All I know is she despises him. Under his leadership, the Crescent Moon has strayed tremendously from their oath.
The night is quiet as my sister and I approach the front entrance. Her armor barely makes a noise as she coaches her steed forward. Her golden dress is scarcely noticeable beneath her predominantly white chest armor. Like me, she stands out among others within our order. Our blood-red hair flows around her body, mingling with her blood-red cloak. Her olive-brown skin reflects off the moonlight, showing me the exotic mixture of the most tantalizing breed of genetics our House embraces. As is our family's custom, our lush and thick hair is never to be cut unless in battle. House DaMoors follows the strict tradition of absolute adherence to the code of the August Rose. The order engraved the blood-red eyes of our heritage into it so many thousands of years ago. None among us can quickly identify the members of House DaMoors. Our long, solid, slender cheekbones and crescent-red eyebrows add to our unique exoticness.
Legend states the DaMoors' family heritage at some point intertwined with the first Virgin's Fate. A blessing that has long benefited our hereditary features. Destiny only interprets the merger of two prominent bloodlines as destiny. Therefore, our males and females are among the most attractive. Not to mention, our pronounced voluptuous yet distinguishable slender figures harmonize every curve of our bodies together like a picturesque statue to form the perfect feminine physique. Our males are the epitome of a warrior god, lean and chiseled. An example of what being born for war entails.
Even the Berserker Legions of the Byzantia Imperial Army fear the males of our House. Yet the supernatural, handsome completions match their fierceness. At first glance, one would assume them to be nothing more than man toys for the prestigious noble ladies of Sidra. That is until one includes their genetic traits. Rumored to rival the most exquisite of all the families in Yura, perhaps even the world. Our House's magic comes from the combination of our beauty and our warrior heritage.
With the help of our founding houses, we established an order that has endured the test of time. In that way, our family is among a handful that maintains our order. As per tradition, we wear red cloaks with a golden rose, signifying our order.
My horse neighs, sending a shiver of discomfort over my body. I catch the ominous scent my horse has caught. As we approach closer, I notice the lack of guards at the front entrance. This is a walled town on the smaller side, but they still have a town guard. Add the strength of the Crescent Moon, and this picture is all wrong. A town this small would welcome a knight order or even a mercenary company if they couldn't attract a merchant guild. The warm glow expected above a village of this size reveals nothing but a night sky. Combined with the lack of smoke from the many torches needed to illuminate the town, the night sky does not glow. Nor do I detect the smell of cooking food in the air. Not even the scent of liquor from the expected drunk patrons.
With the acute senses of a wolverine, my sister and I should have detected some signs of life. Instead, our perceptions seem dulled. There is something uncomfortable about that for me. Something is amiss, my intuition says. Kaia is already on guard. It soon becomes clear why the air surrounding us is good for the senses we have trained for decades to hone. They cannot completely cover the stench lingering in the atmosphere. What we do perceive is the smell of death and burnt flesh. The stench of dead bodies becomes stronger the more our senses keen in. 'Why had we not detected this earlier?' The stench would have lingered for miles beyond the township. 'What magic could cover such rot to evade the senses of my sister and me?'
With extreme caution, we dismount our steeds. Kaia swiftly draws her blade, and I quickly follow suit. We brandish our blades and focus on every sound of the night. The massive town gates lie ajar, hinting at the ominous aura within. As a soldier, I have witnessed many battles and razed cities. However, this is something else entirely. We move with the precision of seasoned veterans, careful not to alert any lurking dangers of our presence. Where guards should be, there are only bloodstains or nothing. A raider would simply leave the slain where they fell. Once inside, we find more of a mystery than answers. The main road of the town is devoid of bodies of any kind. There must be well over a hundred townspeople living here at any time. Yet, there isn't even a hint of horses in the nearby stables. The town is devoid of life altogether. Nothing more than a ghost town. Disturbed but not disheartened by the town's state, we continue our investigation, glancing at one another every so often. The air is still and dead silent, making us even more aware of our movements. Not even insects dare make their presence known.
There are obvious signs of a struggle everywhere. My senses are filled with the smell of stale, spilled blood. A battle occurred here just days before. I can tell by the long-dead embers of the many outside fire pits. Chesterberry is a remote hunting Burg, yet it receives a lot of trade, not to mention the headquarters of the Crescent Moon. No less than a hundred Knights call this their home. I can see the Keep on the far north side of town, atop a hill within the town's walls. Not a single lantern shines in the night. Their banner is nowhere to be seen. Another clear sign of a recent battle.
We make our way deeper into the town, toward the town square, hoping to find someone or some evidence of what happened here. The stench only worsens the further we go. Coupled with the deafening silence, my nerves are on end. The rapid beating of my heart and the proximity of my sister are audible to me. She gives me a glance as if she thinks we need to retreat until daylight. I share her sentiment when I hear a loud crunch. A bone-chilling cracking of what can only be bones.