Chapter 2 - Veiled Illusions

The news spread swiftly. In every corner of the kingdom, one phrase was whispered and shouted alike: "Uanamangura has been born." The dominions buzzed like a hive of bees at the shock of it, darting in all directions to carry the message on parchment and scrolls.

"Uanamangura has been born! Uanamangura has been born!" cried one dominion, scattering letters across the cobbled streets of the Tamasi kingdom.

"I thought it was nothing more than a legend."

"So did I. Never imagined such a day would come," murmured two women to each other, clutching leaflets that bore the painted image of the newborn, its chest marked with the blood-stained sigil.

All the while, as the commotion unfolded, a shadowy figure shrouded head to toe in white oilskin lingered behind the monastery's pillars, straining to conceal his presence.

"Who could have believed this day would prove stranger than any of us expected?" remarked one of the red-cloaked soldiers standing guard at the monastery gates, a spear in hand.

"The general has been doubly blessed today, first with a son, and then with a hero," the other replied.

"With Uanamangura above all," the first concluded.

The figure shrouded in the white cloak widened his eyes, unable to believe what he had just heard.

"Uanamangura... has been born!?" he muttered aloud in shock.

"Hm!? Who's there?" called one of the soldiers, having caught the sound of the intruder's voice beyond the monastery pillars.

"Damn! (This is urgent. I must inform Tarnael at once!)," the stranger thought, his gaze darting anxiously across the unfolding scene.

Gripped by fear, he unfurled his wings and launched into the air, desperate to escape the soldiers' sight, or anyone else's. His takeoff was so swift, so precise, that the guards could not discern who the figure had been. Not a single detail about him had been noticed.

"Hey, wait!" the guards shouted, but it was useless, the intruder had already vanished from their reach.

"What happened?" came a commanding voice from beyond the monastery pillars.

"Officer Gavles," the soldiers said, straightening as they turned to see him, cloaked in red, his mantle interwoven with chestnut leaves, the ceremonial adornment worn by high-ranking officers on such occasions.

"Officer, a highly suspicious figure was here, but we couldn't catch him. He flew away too quickly," reported one of the soldiers.

"Did you manage to capture, or even notice, any detail of his identity?" the officer asked.

"No, sir. He was far too fast for our eyes," replied the other.

"Very well then. I will alert the other police and military outposts across the kingdom so they can track this individual. There is no way he can escape our sight. He cannot cross the Zangh'Untres barrier without being registered by its navigational core," said the officer firmly.

"Yes, sir," both soldiers answered in unison.

"Good. Don't just stand around, begin searching for other suspicious individuals. One never knows who might be drawn to events such as these," the officer ordered as he spread his wings and rose into the air.

Above the brown and russet rooftops of the kingdom, another figure was already flying in haste, a young man with curly chestnut hair, clad in a red cloak that billowed behind him.

"Of all days, today had to be the one I'm late for the ceremony. Damn it! And of course, they only told me after the fact that my brother's son has been born. A little earlier would've been nice. I despise this job more than anything," he muttered as he flew recklessly, urgency driving every beat of his wings.

Suddenly, the cloaked stranger swept past him, no more than a few dozen centimeters away. In a fraction of a moment, perhaps no more than the hundredth of a second, the two locked eyes. The green gaze of Igorus' brother met the piercing blue of the mysterious figure. And then, in an instant, the stranger vanished entirely from his sight.

"Why such haste? How could he fly so fast—"

But then Igorus' brother noticed a feather drifting down into his hands. A feather from the suspicious figure. His eyes widened when he saw it was white.

"A white feather? He was an angel. But how did he manage to infiltrate this place? Could it be that he, too, learned of the general's son's birth? If he escaped the watch of the guards, then he must be an angel of high rank. More precisely... a Visionary. But in doing so, he has dug his own grave. There is no chance he'll escape our claws," he thought to himself as he resumed his flight toward the monastery.

It should be noted that the nations of the dominions, angels, and demons lived together on an isolated island, apart from the rest of the world, a land called Ladnoria. The dominions inhabited the north, the angels the south, and the demons the southeast of Ladnoria, as it was known across the world.

Within this island stood three barriers. The first, which we have just encountered in the tale, was the Zangh'Untres, protecting the dominions' nation. The second, Zangh'Detres, enclosed the land of the angels. The third, Zangh'Trighis, encompassed the whole of Ladnoria itself. This last barrier was unlike the other two.

First, unlike the others, it did not weaken over time. Both Zangh'Untres and Zangh'Detres suffered a drastic collapse in power once every 138 years, but Zangh'Trighis endured unbroken. Second, Zangh'Trighis sealed Ladnoria into its own dimension, imperceptible to the outside world, or more precisely, to mortals. To them, the island appeared only as an unknown, desolate place, overgrown with grass and isolated trees.

Entry into or escape from Ladnoria could only be achieved through an incantation rich in words of power, spells that will be revealed later in this story. And whatever took place within this hidden dimension, this isolated island, had little to no effect upon the rest of the world.

The ceremony had come to an end. The priests, bishops, and monastery staff returned to their usual posts and duties. Aristocratic dominions withdrew to their respective kingdoms. Soldiers returned to their military garrisons. And the common dominions of Tamasi went on with their lives, back to their families, their work, their ordinary routines. In short, life resumed its familiar rhythm.

King Kasama and Queen Kaliga withdrew to their royal chamber. A crimson carpet stretched through the center, flanked by small golden columns. Alongside the walls and the carpet hung iconographic paintings depicting the wars the dominions had endured over twelve to thirteen thousand years. Ancient urns, painted red and etched with dark patterns, stood like sentinels, while statues in Roman style adorned the room.

"We managed to stabilize the situation here," said King Kasama with a troubled voice as he settled into his throne beside his queen, seated on his left. "But what of the other peoples, the angels, the demons? What policies will they pursue if word of this reaches them? Will they declare war on us over this child, or will they show indifference? This thought weighs heavily on me."

"Whatever the case, we hold the advantage," Queen Kaliga replied calmly. "Do not forget. We possess the greatest military might, the richest resources, and above all, the gods' greatest terror now lies on our side."

"Our population, compared to the angels, is far smaller," Kasama countered. "Even if we are stronger individually, their sheer numbers place us at a disadvantage. And should they strike before Uanamangura matures into both a warrior and a dominion, the balance may yet tip against us."

"That lies in the hands of General Friola. We must turn our thoughts to the new life growing here," said the queen, resting her hand upon her belly, which had begun to show a slight swelling.

"A girl, perhaps?" Kasama asked.

"Our people need both a warrior and a worthy princess," Kaliga replied, caressing her stomach while clasping her husband's hand in a gesture of love.

Meanwhile, along the outer walls of the Tamasi kingdom, the guards, clad in chestnut-colored armor with gray cloaks, patrolled, stood watch, or spoke idly with one another as part of their daily routine.

"Where did you say I should buy the necklaces?" one guard asked another in casual conversation.

"At Aristis. The Aristis shop in the kingdom of Gerthrade. They sell genuine silver necklaces. I bought one for my wife's fortieth. She loved it," the other guard replied.

"She reminded me about our anniversary. I had completely forgotten. But what else could I buy besides a necklace? Earrings? A bracelet?" the first guard wondered aloud.

"You could try to be more original, Eduartes," suggested a third guard, who had been listening to their exchange. "Perhaps ask for leave, step beyond the barrier, and find a rare flower. A gift that unique might please your wife far more."

"Hmmm... well, I still have a few days to think about it. I'll see what I'll do," said Eduartes.

Just then, another guard happened to notice a figure racing toward the barrier at an unimaginable speed.

"What in the hell!? HEY! Someone unknown is flying this way!" the guard shouted.

"Have we received any notice about this?" Eduartes asked quickly.

"Not as far as I know," another guard replied.

The suspect flew faster and faster, his speed growing more astonishing by the second, leaving the guards dumbfounded.

"What in the world!? That's not natural speed!" one of the guards exclaimed in panic.

"He must be an intruder. Take flight!" another guard barked, and at once they all unfurled their broad, chestnut-colored wings and soared toward the suspicious figure.

"Damn it! Faster... please..." the fugitive muttered to himself.

The guards were closing in on the fugitive, their swords drawn and ready to strike. But suddenly, a white portal rimmed with golden lines materialized before them.

"What is this?" the guards muttered to one another, bewildered by the sudden appearance of the gateway.

The intruder hurled himself into the portal with furious speed, and in the blink of an eye it vanished from the soldiers' sight.

"You don't see something like that every day," one of the guards remarked.

"Most likely he slipped inside through that same portal. We must report what we've witnessed," another answered with vigilant resolve.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Eduartes muttered as he turned his gaze back beyond the defensive walls, toward the forest that bound together all three divine nations: the Guhojre Forest.

The ancient trees of Guhojre, their trunks dark and their leaves glowing red, yellow, and blue as they drifted to the earth, gave the forest an otherworldly, surreal beauty. It was the beating heart of the sacred island.

Above those trees, the white-and-golden portal opened once more, and from it emerged the mysterious figure. Pulling back his hood, he revealed himself to be an angel: short blonde hair, eyes as dark and deep as the ocean. He was Prince Oriel, the third child of the angelic royal family, one hundred and thirty-two years of age.

"I knew something was wrong with the Dominions, but I never expected this. The birth of Uanamangura? This is a disaster. Even though I'm confident in my speed, I can't risk myself in the heart of enemy territory. I must warn the angels, my father, my brothers, and my sister, before it's too late," Oriel thought, urgency and duty weighing heavily on him.

But just before he took flight, Oriel noticed the trees beneath his wings beginning to glow, an otherworldly light that seemed to rise, not from the earth, but from the sky itself.

"Hm? What is happening?" he muttered, turning his gaze upward. There, above him, a massive sphere of crimson electricity burned like a miniature star, ready to strike the forest.

"Oh, damn!" Oriel exclaimed as the crackling orb plummeted down, slamming into the woodland with violent force. Dozens of trees were instantly scorched, reduced to shadows by the merciless voltage it carried.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" Oriel demanded with authority, hovering above a patch of forest that had miraculously escaped the devastation.

"I did not expect to find one of the princes of angels here," a voice was heard. A lone figure stood before the sun's rays, his identity obscured by the blinding light behind him.

"You... you must be a high-ranking soldier," Oriel said, as the stranger's appearance grew clearer to his eyes.

The man wore a cloak of white and brown, with two straps decorated with golden military insignias. A small leather cap rested on his head, crossed by a black band at its center. He was tall, about six foot three, with short chestnut hair, piercing green eyes, and, strangely enough, he was eating a mandarin as if this were nothing more than a casual encounter. The voice was unmistakable: it belonged to the Marshal of the Dominion army, Ilfar Mildura.

"How did you find me so quickly?" Oriel asked, stunned.

"How? For the soldiers and guards, perhaps it would have been difficult. But for me, it was child's play. My premonition turned out to be correct," the Marshal replied, biting into another segment of the mandarin as he finished his sentence.

"What premonition?" Oriel demanded, confusion written across his face.

"That one of you wretched angels would show up at the ceremony!" Mildura sneered, his words dripping with contempt.

In that instant, a colossal mass of crimson electricity formed in his hand. Its presence alone was so immense, so terrifying, that the very clouds around it evaporated into nothingness. Just as he prepared to hurl the electrified sphere, a portal, similar to the one seen before, suddenly opened to the left side of the prince.

"Ah, my chance! Tarnael!" Oriel exclaimed as he darted swiftly toward the portal.

"I won't let you—!" Mildura shouted, but it was already too late. The prince slipped through the gateway, which vanished from sight the moment he entered.

The Marshal dissipated the devastating attack he had been preparing, the searing light fading into nothing, swallowed by the dark hues of the forest trunks.

"Tch!. I didn't expect this. Well... I suppose I have no choice but to wait until they come to me next time," Mildura muttered with cool confidence. He unfurled his broad, chestnut-colored wings and soared back toward Dominion territory. Below, the discarded peel of the mandarin he had been eating tumbled into the forest, landing atop the fallen leaves, its bright orange skin a vivid contrast of life, fertility, and death.

"I made it out. I don't know if I could have faced such an opponent just yet, but I'm glad Tarnael opened the portal in time," Oriel thought to himself, finding his bearings in a vast, empty expanse of pure white, devoid of any furnishings or features.

Tarnael was the eldest son of King Augustel, in other words, the first prince. His gift was the creation of portals, manipulating the very concept of space and place itself. Anyone who entered one would find themselves drawn into a dimension that enabled near-instantaneous travel, as though time itself scarcely existed in between.

Oriel thought he had arrived within the corridors of the royal palace of the angels. But no. A crimson mist began to take shape before his blue eyes. There was no sound, no voice, only the prince's solitude, accompanied by the weight of his ragged breathing. It was a kind of silence that screamed a single word: murder. A loud silence.

A chilling sensation swept over Oriel, one he could not explain with words, yet one his senses grasped all too clearly.

Suddenly, the mist vanished, revealing a wooden table, aged, scratched, and worn, surrounded by three chairs, each missing a leg. On one of them sat a figure clad in a servant's uniform, black and white. His hair was a cascade of black curls, his skin pale and lifeless, as though he had brushed against death itself. His eyes, a sickly yellow tinged with green, fixed upon the prince with unsettling detail and curiosity.

"Hey! Why so quiet, prince? " the man in the chair asked.

"What are you? Where am I? Where is Tarnael?" Oriel shouted, his voice cracking with fear and confusion in the face of this alien, dreadful scene.

"Me? What am I? Hahahahahahahahah!"

The laughter echoed from every direction, bouncing endlessly in the void. Yet all of Oriel's focus was locked upon the stranger's eyes, eyes that screamed hatred, terror, and above all... fear.

"I asked you questions, monster. Answer me now!" Oriel demanded desperately.

"Hmm... close. But I'm not exactly a monster."

The stranger rose slowly from the chair and spoke:

"My name is Aldes. I am merely an exiled demon. I apologize for the circumstances in which you find yourself, but let's just say I saved you from that Marshal. What you see here is nothing but an illusion born of my magic. No angelic palace, no brother of yours. You have only me."

"What are you trying to say? That portal belonged to my brother. It's impossible," Oriel protested.

"As I said, this is all part of my illusion, one you stumbled into, like a fly caught in a spider's web," Aldes replied.

"An illusion? Magic? Wait... You're a demon. Why are you using magic? Isn't that something only mortals wield? " Oriel asked, conflicted and bewildered.

"Though it is said demons do not wield magic, I am the sole exception. And for that, I was never accepted. They called me a traitor, a manipulator, a liar. But in the end, I didn't care much. Above all, I gained the right to do as I please," Aldes said, brushing his dark curls back from his forehead, his eyes fixed on Oriel with a devilish grin.

As you may have noticed, Oriel was astonished by the fact that Aldes, despite being a demon, could wield magic. Let me shed some light on this.

In this world, there exist five types of power. The first is Magic, used by humans, hybrids, elves, and vampires. The second is Lapis, the power of angels, golden in hue. The third is Lagus, the power of demons, dark as night. The fourth is Fernia, the power wielded by the Dominions, crimson in color. And the fifth is Draken, the power of dragons. Draken is believed to have vanished from the world, for the dragons no longer exist.

These five powers... Hm? Oh yes, there are only five powers in total. These five forces stand in opposition to one another. Magic is effective only against magic. Lapis holds advantage over Lagus. Lagus has the upper hand against Fernia. Fernia, in turn, is stronger against Lapis. As for Draken, it was said to be the supreme energy, able to overcome all others, while no force could truly oppose it.

But the question that arises now in this tale is this: How is it possible that Aldes, being a demon, is capable of using Magic...?