Eliza~

I climb, rock after rock, not minding my knees scraping against the sharp edges, not minding that my pure and spotless white robes have long been ripped and muddled. I’m determined to get to Angel’s Peak, a large hill with the softest grass, streams, and most beautiful trees at the top of the hill where you can watch the aurora unfold. I know that the caretakers back at the monastery will be upset that one orphan is missing, but I couldn’t care less. Up here it’s up to my thoughts and my thoughts alone. This is the only place that hasn’t been taken by the Elders in fear that it might interfere with the children’s learning. But I know they are just tying to brainwash us all.

I hear the griffins soaring in the sky and singing, along with the silvendoves.

In lessons we learned that not many people explore the Heavens because they are not worthy enough. But Maddox, a boy my age at the monastery, stated that it was because of there being no record of this place. He mentioned that the air gets too thin on the trip here, so not many explorers have broken through the barrier so they can write about this realm. Maddox calls it a realm. I call it a prison.  

I want to get out of here. The Elders and all of my lesson mates are afraid of me. They think I know more, and I’m merely an outsider. But the Code states to be kind to all orphans left here, and they follow that code strictly. I don’t even know why this is called the Heavens. It’s definitely not. 

I reach the top and leap on the tree, as the aurora begins. I sigh and lean my head against the tree, finally finding peace and my own thoughts in this system of order. I will get out of here. And I have a plan. 

Corilis~

When the flame erupted from the side of the airship, I was taken back to another time. A dark time. A time when ships docked onto my tiny island. A time when my father argued with a man in silver armor. A time when he smacked my father to the ground and led a group of soldiers through the village and into the dying corn field. A time when they threw burning torches into the crops when they saw they were sickly. A time when the flames spread to the houses. 

I had ran. And, in utter disgust of myself, I was running again. At the first sight of fire I sprinted to the nearest house and ducked into an alleyway. The heat of the fire stung my face and made my eyes water. It took every ounce of courage I had to keep watching.

I peeked out from behind a barrel. Most people had scattered, and were observing the situation from far-off hiding places such as mine. Only the masters and Galligan remained. Galligan looked absoultely furious. 

"You want to play with fire? Then play with it!" Terrence yelled. He ordered another barrage of flame. Galligan quickly leapt out of the way, reminding me of his surprising agility.

"Get behind me!" the Headmaster ordered in a voice just as commanding as Terrence's. If the situation wasn't so dire I might've laughed when he handed his coffee to one of the Masters who then hurridely flew back to the Headmaster's tower. The Masters raised a meter-thick wall of ice from the ground, Galligan propelled himself on top of it, and in perfect synchronization they began firing chunks of the ice into the ignition ports. Terrence commanded another barrage, but the guns jammed, smoke seeping out of them.

"Backup cannons!" 

More flamethrowers that I had not even before revealed themselves from hidden hatches. Another burst of fire destroyed what was left of the ice wall.

"Whitlock, stop this madness!" Galligan barked. "Don't be a fool!"

"Am I the fool, Nix? Am I? Because it seems to me that the fool is the man who thinks a few parlor tricks can defeat an unstopple force of war." He ordered yet another barrage. Now even the most experienced Masters had fled. Galligan looked around, absoultely livid.  

"That's ENOUGH!"  Galligan's voice escalated to the volume of a crack of thunder. He slammed his cane down onto the pavement and a shock wave burst out of the end and radiated out in all directions, knocking anyone near him to their feet. The clouds around Spark darkened and the  wind picked up and a vortex of snow and lightinng began swirling around the city. A single bolt shot down from the Heavens and struck Galligan's cane directly on the handle. He did not waver. The amethyst embedded in the handle sparked and took on a brilliant purple glow.

Galligan pointed his cane at Terrence, handle-first, the amethyst fizzing with electricity."You can bring war machines into my city," he spoke in a primal voice, much louder and deeper than his own. "You can topple my towers." the Headmaster began to walk briskly towards Terrence, cane pointed directly at him. Terrence hastily ordered another attack. With a slight wave of Galligan's hand I saw the gunners inside the airship swept off their feet before they could do a thing. "You can shatter my bridges."

Terrence looked around frantically before drawing his gun. "Don't you dare come any closer!" his voice was all but drowned out by the din of the maestrom that was now raging around us.

"...And you can kidnap my citizens." Galligan stopped three feet in front of Terrence. "But if you think you have an iota of a chance against me..." the wind died down. The clouds brightened and the snow squall stopped. Galligan stumbled a few feet backward. He suddenly looked like an old man again. The air was deathly still as Galligan stood in front of Terrence. It seemed like time had stopped before he spoke again.

"Why, Terrence? Why must you be so driven by hate?" his voice was tired and strained. He looked sad, like a disappointed father.

Terrence said nothing. 

"Do you realize how happy Cerus would be if he knew two great threats to his power were about to destroy each other?"

"I just. Need. Help." Terrence said. "Give me the navigator and I'll leave. Your city will be safe, and you won't ever have to see me again,"

"Asking for help is one thing," the Headmaster said. "But flying gung-ho into my city,  snatching up one of my people like a weasel in a bird's nest? And to add the upmost insult to injury, you do it the day of our Festival. I know you probably remember the Festival as a night of drinking, Terrence. But if you had payed attention for a single one of your history classes you'd know that it is far more than that. It is a celebration of life. Of peace. Of freedom from the war that almost destroyed our world five hundred years ago."

"And if we don't act right now, that war will happen again." Terrence replied hoarsely.

Galligan gave a tired smile "You were never the most... diplomatic of individuals, were you?"

"Noventia won't listen to diplomacy. And they don't care about your festival. We need Corilis."

"Mr. Asterlon is a very skilled individual. I will give you that," Galligan said earnestly, clearly tired of debating. "But it seems to me that with all your experience, with all your allies and connections, with all the Windtracers swarming around Jetsam looking for work... I think it's safe to say that Mr. Asterlon is not your only solution for your little... takeover." Galligan took a few steps backward, off of the ramp. "Spark is a place of peace," he said. "We send our students away, not because there is conflict here, but because there isn't. You are asking a dove for help in a sea of falcons, and yet you still insist there is no other way to prevent devastation."

Galligan grasped the handle of his cane tightly. "I think it's best you were on your way, Mr. Whitlock," he said. "You've got another navigator to find, and like you said, time is running out. And seeing as you've already made an absolute disgrace of yourself and personally insulted the one man who saved you from meeting the same fate as your parents..."

Terrence growled in anger, but before he could rage towards the Headmaster, A hand gripped his shoulder. Azazel. He looked back at her.

"It's not worth it." she said quietly. She sounded scared. I was scared, too. I think everyone was. What I had just witnessed did not happen everyday.

"We'll manage without him. Let's just go." Terrence stared at her for a few seconds, before letting out a cry of frustration and stomping back into the ship. When he reached the hatch, he whirled around violently and pointed a finger at Galligan.

"If Spark is destroyed by this time tommorow, it will be on your hands. Not mine," he said bittlerly. He signaled for the Reavers to follow him back into the ship. They did so, some not without limping. The ship's engine sputtered, and it took off with a hum of power. They were gone.

The hiding crowd tentatively returned out into the open, and stood in silence for a few seconds, all gawking at Galligan, except for the Masters, who were looking down. I remembered that a Master had once, possible drunkenly, stated at a feast that we wouldn't like Galligan when he's angry. I brushed it off as a coversational jest at the time, but looking back on it now, it did make sense that Galligan had been so eager to change the subject. His display of power, what he was truly capable of, was apparently something that he would've rather kept a secret. 

Galligan turned around, back to his usual calm and collected state. "Well? Are you going to just stand there or are you going to resume preparations?"  

The crowd stood in disbelief for a few seconds more, before uneasily returning to the tasks they had been doing before the attack, troubled muttering clearly audible.

Galligan walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. 

"Are you alright?" he asked gently. 

"Y-yeah..." I said. "What did...?"

"Come talk to me tonight, after the Feast," Galligan squeezed my shoulder, took a few paces away, bent his knees slightly, and rocketed off the ground in a silver cloud. (side note: if you can't picture it, he's basically doing what Death Eaters do. That's how Windtracers fly.)

I watched him streak across the sky and into his Tower. I stood there for a good five minutes, still wondering what had just happened.

@Brookeira: Don't worry if you had your heart set on Corilis helping the Reavers. I have a plan to still make that work out. Just bear with me for another post or two.

Orson~

The Fornerail was made up of 20 different routes, each leading from the different regions of Noventia to one place- King's Landing. The center and summit of Noventia, the capital of the sky.

The system spread out over the city like a spider's web. Each route consisted of a set of two cables, one going to the Landing, and one for going back again. Each of the cables was several meters thick, made of a strong but flexible metal alloy. The carts, of course, were what carried the passengers. Each cart attached to the cable with 4 solid metal arms, complete with a set of gears at the top that hauled the cart up and down the routes. The name "cart" is probably an understatement, though.

Each cart was two storied, With hardwood and metal beams conjoining the huge glass viewing windows that made up most of the walls. The carts were massive, and could hold hundreds of people when full. A true marvel of Noventian progress. But this was hardly the time for drooling over the Fornerail, I've ridden it countless times before.

I sit hunched over in the cart, as it slowly climbs its way to King's Landing. For the first time in my life, I feel pretty awkward weaing my armor. Not that it was hot or uncomforable or anything, it was probably just nerves. I remember Cadia's last words before we left, "You look- pretty cool. You'd look even cooler if you kept your helmet on for once. Wait, you might scare some kids or something if you keep that on too long.. Then again, when have you ever been scary?"

I sigh. Cadia's words were far from comforting, even though I knew she meant well. What is this, I'm supposed to be happy, right? A meeting with the Emperor is one of the greatest honors somebody my age could achieve. Then why do I feel like something awful is about to happen?

I glance over at my helmet, sitting on the bench to my left. It gleams in the midday sun, my family crest printed on the back in green paint. I guess it did look pretty cool. Wait, I don't look scary? Was that a good or a bad thing? 

"Sit up straight, son," my father hisses, jabbing me in the side with his elbow. "Good posture makes an excellent role model." I jump at the sudden voice, then hastily straighten my back. I move my helmet to my lap and sneak a glance at my father. He's trying hard to force his usual rough attitude, but I can tell he's really excited about this.

Before I know it, the cart has climbed to a halt. We've arrived at our destination. The doors open, and a crowd starts to funnel out of the exit. My father stands, putting his helmet on in a palmy fashion. I follow his lead and do the same.

As we push out onto the docking platform, the swarm of people opens into the center of Noventia: King's Landing. The Landing was essentially a huge marketplace, the 20 Fornerail stations fed into a spacious, elevated circle of buildings. Some were permanent, some were simply just lean-tos or tents. The shops ringed around the center of the circle, leaving only small alleyways to traverse from ring to ring. The only substantial gap in the complex was the pristine marble bridge leading to the palace- of course, our final destination.

As we make our way across, the barterers and panhandlers step aside to let us through. No hassle, no anything. This wasn't unheard of, of course, but it put me on edge anyways. My father notices my discomfort, and tries to start conversation.

"Say, Orson. You haven't asked many questions this whole time. Are you doing alright?" he asks, keeping his eyes pointed straight ahead.

"Yeah I guess so," I reply. "I'm just thinking.

"I know I was pretty cryptic about this whole thing," he explains, "But I promise, this will be good for you. This is a big day in your career." My career? I grimace as I remember my suspicions about a plan to dedicate my life to the Garrison. No, I need to focus. Whatever this was, I need to keep my resolve. Losing it in front of the Emperor is the last thing I want to do.

I take a deep breath and nod at my father, wearing a new face of determination. I mirror him, staring dead ahead as we march towards the marble bridge. 

@Brookeira and J.B.E, could Evelyn also go with them? I don't know how else she'll get to Noventia, where her sister is.

(LilyCat said her second word! Rode!)

Ugh, just realized that destroying a whole freaking important library might be a tad bit overpowered. JBE, if you have any huge problems that, you can tell me.

I think what I'm going to write next would be longer if it weren't for the fact that Iesha is brutally to the point. Deception isn't really her style, and she hates to make things go on for longer. I realized this makes this scene a lot less cool.

By the way, I was thinking that Iesha learned a way of teleporting from her father. She can't actually fly, but instead teleport from place to place that she's been to. However, most of the times she needs to recite an incantation. most of the times. *wink wonk*

* * *

a few days later 

Iesha cautiously stood up, looking around the grimy alley. God does she hate teleporting. Crowds moved about on the sidewalks in front of her, creating a murmur of buzzing from all the talking. There seemed to be even more trash around her than usual, which, she supposed, gave the creaky door behind her more secrecy. Sighing, Iesha stepped toward the door and knocked on it lightly. A slot on the door slid open, and two eyes looked at Iesha with nervous surprise before letting her in.

Iesha strode confidently through the hallway, ignoring the pitiful questions of the door guard. As she continued into the main executive room, she noticed the half-baked decor strewn across the walls. Iesha remembered the decor looking nicer the last time she was here. Was it that long ago?

"Iesha! So glad to have you back," Iesha turned around swiftly to see the Collins, the leader of the Mafia operation in Spark. Iesha glanced at him, her expression emotionless.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to be, Collins," Iesha walked over to the large map sitting on the table, glancing it over sternly. "You've been giving information to The Reavers without my permission and I will have to kill you because of that." Iesha then quickly threw her knife at Collins' neck.

...But it didn't make its mark. Collins stood, rather lazily, holding the knife. "Always to the point, Iesha. I always hoped we would have time to exchange witty remarks before this." Collins then dropped the knife onto the floor with a clatter.

"N-no one can catch a knife I throw," Iesha's eyes darted around, realizing that she was most definitely surrounded. Everyone in this room was a traitor. "What have you done?!"

"Oh come on Iesha, quit it with the surprise. This sort of double agent thing could only be accomplished if everyone in this room was in on it," Collins backed Iesha into a corner, smiling jovially. "What did surprise me, however, is how stupidly loyal some of these people were. They had to be threatened! After I offered them money!"

Collins pulled out his own knife and pressed it against Iesha's neck. "You know, you aren't even that smart. Just good at ordering people around. I mean seriously, you can't even lie! How you've gotten this far, I have no clue," Collins stared intimidatingly into her eyes, while the others in the room kept their guns and magic readied at Iesha.

"Hah, what am I doing monologuing?" The knife inched closer, drawing a drop of blood from her skin. "The Reavers send their regards."

With a sudden jolt of anger, Iesha sent Collins flying back. Just as quickly Iesha felt herself spinning and teleporting who knows where. She heard Collin swear at Iesha, and then a horrible pain in her stomach.

Iesha finds herself in a new place, surrounded by crowds and crowds of people. They backed away quickly from her, and Iesha finally noticed what was causing her pain. A knife was lodged in her stomach. As she lapsed into unconsciousness, she silently cursed for letting herself get hit by a knife.

* * *

So! To bring all the crew together, I decided to make Iesha teleport herself to Spark. Where in Spark she teleported herself to, I dunno. Just a place where we might be able to get her to meet someone else in the RP?  

Terrence-

“I have the girl.”

”What?” Terrence called. Cain, one of his best officers, was knocking on his door.

”She’s in holding. Aloise Cerus.”

”Perfect. And the decoy ship?”

”Sailing away. I framed it. By the time the Noventian search party catches up to it, they’ll be lost and far away.”

Terrence nodded and shut off the shower water, running a towel through his hair. “Good work, Cain. I’ll go see her right as soon as I-“

Someone banged on the door. Cain let out a yelp from behind it.

”Morningstar! I need you in engineering, quick!” shouted a female voice. It was Dante, the head engineer. Terrence raised an eyebrow. Dante was always calm, collected. Not like this.

Terrence wrinkled his lip. Everything had been wrong. First he’d pushed F-Galligan too far, and now Dante was banging down his door. He hurriedly pulled on some pants and ripped the door open, glaring.

”Lord-oh, I didn’t realize-“ Dante’s mask was off, and her dark face flushed. Bee-Bub stood behind, face grim. Bee-Bun was always smiling.

”Well? Take me to the hub.” Morningstar said, striding down the hall. He realized that he’d forgotten his shirt. He didn’t care.

”S-Sure.” Dante led the way down the hatch and into the airship pits. The smell of hydrogen hung in the air like the scent of distant almonds.

“We found a new feature.” Dante pressed a button and pulled up a small screen, grainy and blurred by wind. Cameras. Fascinating things. Terrence watched, impressed, as thousands of tiny mirrors coated the airship, reflecting the clouds as they flew through open sky.

”Fascinating. Any other observations? If the ships sneak up on the Sparkies, Galligan will just use lightning. Sure, half his people will die before he can kill each ship, but he’ll just recruit more!”

Terrence couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. Dante cringed back.

”Sir, there’s something else. I’ve been studying this material. Do we have a spark gun?”

Terrence nodded, pulling a taser from the wall. Dante held up a fist-sized piece of the reflective metal.

”Now grab that alarm clock.”

Terrence raised an eyebrow. Dante set the piece of metal down.

”Shoot it.”

Terrence shrugged and complied, backing up to avoid shrapnel when it shattered. He fired.

The metal didn’t shatter on impact. Terrence’s chestnut face blanched as electricity pulse through it.

”Now... set the alarm clock on top.”

Terrence did. Its alarm began going off ceaselessly as the metal hummed.

”They’re all batteries.” Terrence said.

Dante’s hands were shaking. “You know that massive gun we didn’t know how to operate? Mounted to the very top of this ship?”

”Nix is going to fire his lightning.” Terrence said, “He’s going to think the reflectors are glass. He’s going to power up these guns, and he’s going to destroy his own city.”

Dante was breathing fast.

Terrence stood, trying to control his breathing.

”Send out word to all Reaver ships. We need to mingle with the people in the Spark festival. Protect them. Send a warning to Galligan.”

Ba’al had appeared out of the shadows. He nodded and pulled out paper to send messenger hawks.

”We’ll protect those Sparkies,” Terrence said, “we’ll keep ‘em safe.”

”Sir, you aren’t wearing a shirt,” remarked Ba’al.

”That doesn’t affect my ability to protect Spark, Ba’al.” 

@Aspen I'm okay with shipping as long as there isn't any over-the-top romantic stuff.

Corillis~

The worst part about that ordeal was how helpless I had felt. I had spent years building up a persona that was only partially true- Corilis Asterlon, the master navigator. Who had only left the ground once.

I had never wanted to feel that way again. Like a bargaining chip, as Galligan and Terrence argued relentlessly over what to do with me. The same way I'd felt when the man in silver armor pressed a burning torch directly against my skin, and a second airship showed up and a man wearing a bandolier and brass knuckles, his face obscured by scarves, had come and punched my assailant square and the jaw, and the two fought over me while my face seared in pain and I screamed so loud I couldn't hear myself.

I wanted to feel in control of my own life, for once. To be more than just a leaf in the wind of more important people's decisions. 

And that's why I changed my mind.

The preparations for the Festival continued throughout the morning, despite what had happened. Apparently, the villagers on nearby islands had watched Galligan's little demonstration from afar and needed convincing from half a dozen Masters before they decided it was safe to cross the reconstructed ice bridges. But once they were there, things did feel more normal. Just a little. There was something comforting about the city square being bustling again, filled with villagers searching for souvenirs before the Feast started.

At noon, I went up to the Headmaster's tower to tell him that I had decided to comply with Terrence's demands. Imagine my surprise when I was halfway up the hill and heard the sound of airship engines behind me.

I whirled around. They were back. But this time, there were more ships. Many more. And they seemed to be swarming in a formation around the entire city. Just five seconds after spotting them, Galligan apparently did too, because a silver streak shot out of the tower I had been heading to, zipped over my head in a gust of wind, and landed gracefully in the city square in the form of a 65 year old man. For the second time that day, I jogged hastily back down to the docks.

The villagers had panicked, clearly expecting another elemental brawl, and had congregated in the backs of various shops, to the annoyance of their keepers. Galligan stood where he had been standing before, his eyes narrowed. I walked up behind him.

"You've got some nerve coming back here," Galligan said when Terrence once again stepped out of his airship.

Terrence raised his arms in defense. "Alright. I know things got a little out of hand. But hear me out, alright? We're here to save your skins."

Galligan raised an eyebrow.

"It seems we underestimated Noventia. They've been working on some game-changing tech." Terrence called over a few of his subordinates and performed a demonstration with a silvery chunk of metal and an electric gun. Galligan looked concerned for a split second, before his face returned to neutral.

"So we've decided to save our invasion for later. What matters now is protecting Spark from these ships, and hopefully putting a dent in Noventia's fleet while we're at it. Once they back off, we can go on the offensive and capture their city. All we need is your consent." 

Terrence stretched out his hand. Galligan didn't move. 

"Come on Nix. We can only do this if we work together. For old time's sake." 

"You're... occupying my city."

"Well, it sounds bad when you say it that way."

Galligan looked back and forth from the hand to its masked owner. Finally, he sighed and outstretched his own hand. "Fine. I'll humor your little plan. For Spark's sake. But if you try and start something, I swear to God..."

"You have my word. The only thing we'll be destroying today are dirty, rotten Noventians." I thought I could see the slightest shadow of a grin under Terrence's face.

Terrence looked over the Headmaster's shoulder when he saw me. "Hey, Co-ri-lis."

"Hi." I said flatly. 

I sighed. So they didn't need my help. I guess today wasn't my day after all. Oh well. I decided to just enjoy the Festival, and try to ignore any potential sounds of war in the background.

When it came time for the Feast, the students, villagers, and other citizens of Spark all trekked to Goldwarren Hall halfway to the summit of Mount Serena. It had grown dark by then, and although the stars weren't out yet, lanterns lining the trail had flickered on. The Reavers stayed in their ships, although a few had expressed interest in joining the festivities. I think it was best that they didn't.

Iniside the Hall, which was also used for performances, tables were set up on three floors facing a large stage. The first floor was for the students. Most of them were in their late teens, as that was the most common age of recrutiment. Their were certainly exceptions, of course. Spark had no real rules about the ages of its students, as long as they completeled a minimum of five years of training.

The second floor was for the visiting villagers, and the third floor was for the permanent residents of Spark. The Masters, the nonmagical folks, some refugees, some who had moved here for peace and quiet. And me. 

Galligan walked out onto the stage and gave a speech, apologizing for the events of earlier, assuring everyone that there was nothing to worry about, that he and the Reavers had everything under control. He then went through his usual annual routine of congratulating the Academy's top students, and discussed the success of my new atlas. The Master sitting next to me slapped me on the back. After that, we ate. There was understandibly an air of uneasiness in the Hall, but it went away with food and drink. Well, for everyone else it did.

After the feast, I found Galligan outside.

"Did you still want to talk?" I asked.

"They'll be setting off the fireworks soon," he mused.

We walked over the ridge, following the treeline of Mount Serena. It was a brisk night, the kind of night I loved. Snow fell gently in the air, almost ominous but not quite. I looked down at the twinkling lights in the square. It was beautiful, even surrounded by Reaver ships. I wondered for a little bit why anyone would even think of attacking a place like this. Galligan went on about something, how he was proud of me, but when we were out of earshot, he suddenley grabbed my shoulder.

"Corillis, whatever happens tonight, just know that... this should be yours." he raised his cane.

"Your cane." I said bluntly, wondering if this was a metaphor for something. Galligan liked metaphors.

"Yes."

"Mine, as in right now, or...?"

"You know what I mean," Galligan said. "When I'm... gone, whenever that may be, hopefully not for a good while," he took a deep breath. "This must be yours. You must be the one to have it."

"But..." I was ridiculously confused. Was old Nix losing it? "I can't even... you know. I can't do what you do. Ever. I'm not even a student." 

Galligan sighed. "There are things in this world that you are not ready to know. That the world is not ready to know. Answers will come in time, but for now I just need your conformation that you will do everything in your power to make sure this cane ends up in your possesssion."

Flustered, I began to answer "Well, I..."

Before I could finish my sentence, I was interruped by the sudden sound of commotion in the square. Galligan's head darted in that direction. "Come with me," he said urgently, taking my hand. He glided quickly down to the square, dragging me behind him (not the best plan after a big meal). But when we got there, I was surprised to see that, the screams had had nothing to do with airships or Noventia or anything like that at all.

A girl lay on the ground, a knife in her abdomen, blood spilling out onto the cobblestone.

Orson~

The Palace was a pretty drastic contast to Guardian's Landing. The jumble of shops and restaurants made for a very chaotic atmosphere. Not to mention the sound of sizzling food, traders arguing, and the grinding of the Fornerail made it pretty hard to hear anything. But that would probably be what you'd expect from any city hub, wouldn't it? 

The marble bridge was almost all that was separating the Palace and the royalty from the merchants and commoners, but don't let that make you think it was easy to pass through. 3 stone towers lined each side of the bridge, the banner of Noventia flying from the tops. Intimidating black iron gates stood at the border of Guardian's Landing and the bridge, daring anyone to try to cross them. 

Guards were stationed at every position imaginable, creating a pretty formidable display. They didn't see much action, however, it was a while since some rouge tried to circumvent the bridge. The mobs of people gradually petered out going towards it, which would most likely explain why all the vendors backed off of us once they saw where we were going. Who knows? Maybe everybody's feeling uneasy today.

As we approach the bridge, we are halted by one of the guards at the gates, which was expected. Their armor was rose gold, the sign of the Emperor's Guard. As he walks towards us, my father removes his helmet, moving it so that the guard could see the crest on the back. I quickly do the same. The guard unrolls a scroll of parchment, and moves his gaze from the scroll, to our helmets, and back again several times. I figured that he was comparing our crest to some list he had.

Finally, the guard rolls the parchment back up, motioning the several others behind him to let us in. A husky looking guard pulls a large, bronze lever mounted on the tower left of the gate. Almost instantly, chains on either side of the gate pull taught, forcing it to slide out of the way. The first guard, parchment still in hand, motioned us towards the now open marble pathway. My father gives him a quick nod, and starts briskly across the bridge.

I hardly have enough time to take in the beautiful view from the bridge. The rest of Noventia was spread out below us like a quilt, and although it wasn't all pretty, was a sight to behold nonetheless. As we march across the bridge, another set of guards promptly open the huge set of doors leading into the palace. I gaze up to see the first emporer, spear in hand, looking out over the city from atop his dome. I wonder if this bridge was built while he was still around..

My father smacks my head back into reality, and I quickly pick up the pace, determined to not embarass him again. It was a little difficult though, I was being hit with a million new things right now. As we pass through the doors, we are greeted by a suprisingly homey-feeling hall. Torches crackled in their holders, and scarlet banners swayed on the draft from the open door. I look up to see a rather inviting mosaic, depicting the luxuries of Noventia, our military success, our technological advances, things like that.

We are finally met by our fabled "elite team", all dressed in the same silver colored armor as my father and I. My father strolled over to them, greeting some of them by name, and the few he didn't know he introduced himself to. I overhear my name in the introductions, and I swiftly jog over to introduce myself. After inelegantly greeting all of them, my father turns away to catch up with some of his buddies. I count heads, and there's about... 14 of us? That seems about right.

"Hello, Orson." Scratch that, 15. I jump, turning to see a peculiar looking, tall, pale-haired man behind me. "Are you looking at the mosaics?"

"Er-yeah, I was," I admit, kind of weirded-out. I'll confess, the man looked like a pretty obvious elephant in the room compared to the rest of us. I don't think it's fair to judge him yet, though.

"Ah, the first time in here is always interesting," He replies. He seems to be high ranked, but his helmet is under his arm, and his rank symbol out of view. "I suppose I should introduce myself before we start fighting together. My name is-"

The man is cut short by the opening of another set of doors, opposite those to the bridge. The chatter of the other soldiers fades to silence, as a slender figure steps into view. Her steps echo through the hall, and her white silk robe flows elegantly behind her as she advances toward us. Her midnight black hair is tied in a neat bun, her arms outstretched to greet us.

"Good day, everyone!" The last thing I'd expect was the Emperor's daughter to escort us. "My father will see you all now!" I glance at the girl. Maria Cerus, in person. Who would've thought I'd ever see her? She notices me staring, and responds with a warm smile. I quickly look away, joining my father to enter the throne room.

It wasn't massive, but it was sure big for a throne room. Our footsteps echo around the polished marble and granite walls, and streaks of sun stream in through the lofty windows. It almost reminded me of a church, only the pulpit had been replaced by an extravagant rose gold throne.

Emperor Cerus reminded you more of a teacher than a father or grandfather. His charcoal gray hair was on the shorter side, a little unorthodox amoung Noventian elders, but the Emperor wasn't one to shy away from breaking tradition. His beard, on the other hand, was at medium length, but still managed to keep every hair in it's place. He wore a knowing look, but there was something in his emerald green eyes that made his stare turn your limbs stiff. As he stood, his crimson-black robe unfurled to full length, displaying his intricate embroidery to his new audience.

"Soldiers, heroes, honorable men and women," he boomed as as stepped towards the group. "I welcome you to my palace, and I ask you now to heed my words." My eyes dart nervously to my right; the tall man from before was standing straight, all his concentration on the Emperor. My father, to my right, wears his normal face of solemnity.

"We have reached a pivotal point in our great Noventian history, for in the past weeks I have come to a realization," Cerus continued, in a powerful tone. "A realization that our current relation with the rest of The Sky can continue no further. Too long have we tolerated the rebellion, disrespect, and utter irrationality of our neighbours. Too long have we let ourselves be diminshed by these renegades, and too long has the progress Noventia been halted by the meddlings of the outliers in our once great kingdom. The time has come for us to cease this chaotic precense. The time has come for us to reunite the Sky under Noventian rule! And so I ask you, I ask all of Noventia to lend me their swords and guns. I ask you to aid me in our first step to true glory, and I ask for your loyalty to the Noventian kindom. For if all efforts succeed," Cerus takes a dramatic pause to breathe, "We well take Spark by midnight tonight!"

The soldiers erupt in cheers, as the Emperor steps back, admiring his own words. My stomach sinks. I knew it. I knew it all along that this "plan" wouldn't turn out well. I was fine with joining the Garrison. I was fine with defending my city from raiders and attackers. But going from that, to capturing the enire island of Spark? After we remained without conflict for this long? No. I wasn't going to do it. Conquesting against the Windtracers, against the innocent people living in Spark? Was he insane?    

~Ian Crowsflight, Spark.

"READY THE CANNONS!!!" the Headmaster yelled "PREPARE FOR BATTLE!!! TO YOUR STATIONS!!!"

"nervous?" asked Aron (Ian's bestie) "heck yeah!" said Ian "but i try not to show it." Ian's hands were sweating as he gripped his Lightning Blaster. the day before a spy had tipped off the Windtracers that the Noventian Government were about to attack. the Headmaster had had to scramble the Windtracers to Spark to defend against Noventia that night. now Ian was holding a blaster on the front line and scared as all heck. "HERE THEY COME!!!" yelled the headmaster as about 15 Noventians walk out of the darkness "I NOTICED!!!" yelled Ian "I THINK WE ALL DID!!!" Aron smirked. several people chuckled. "NOW IS NOT THE TIME, IAN!!" yelled the headmaster "START FIRING!!" Ian started shooting and narrowly missed two people before hitting one "THEY EXPECTED US SOMEHOW!" he heard a enemy shout the replie was "YEAH, BUT WE'RE HIGHLY TRAINED SOLDiERS, WE CAN TAKE EM'-AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaagh..." those were his last words. already there were several dead on both sides. Ian noticed that there was a perfect line of soldiers, took careful aim, and CRACKLE-CRACKLE-BAZAAT  fired. the lightning bolt kiled the first soldier and knock the other three over, him and Aron wasted no time at finishing them off. "good job!" said Aron "they were sitting du-" Aron gasped and didn't continue "what's wrong?" asked Ian but then saw the bloodspot blooming on the back of Aron's shirt."Aron NO!!!" he yelled "no. NO NO NO NO! GRAHHHHHHHH!" Ian whirled around, spotted the killer and shot. 23 times. nobody could ever survive that. ever. the killer was forced back 23 feet and burned so badly nobody would ever recognize her. Ian was shot once in the shoulder, once in the leg, and once in the chest before the enemy retreated. he woke up that day and cryed. then he finished crying wiped his eyes and said with resolve "those Noventian have no idea who they're messing with. i am Ian Crowsflight. i am going to Subtropos, and learning magic that was lost in the realms of the Sky cenuries ago."

Bob says agpi. Agricultural pi? what? 

Iesha's vision faded in and out, barely able to see the blurry shapes around her. There was a ringing in her left ear, probably from the exhausting teleport. How did she do that again? And where in the Sky did it take her? Iesha instinctively tried to get up despite her state, but then she heard a voice telling her, "Please, stay still. It'll make this process easier for the both of us."

Finally, she made out two figures right above her. An old man, with steely gray eyes, wearing a rather large overcoat. And a pale young man, who seemed fairly nervous about the situation. The former was healing her with some sort of magic, while the other muttered something about The Reavers. Oh right. The ones who ruined her life just a little while ago.

"I have to go," She pushed herself up with the little strength she had, glaring. The old man--who Iesha realized with a jolt was Galligan, the Headmaster-- raised an eyebrow, almost amused. 

"You suddenly appear from nothing with a knife in your gut and you expect us to let you get off that easily?" Galligan mused, tapping the tip of his cane rhythmically. Iesha narrowed her eyes and stood herself up. Her legs felt like jelly, and she was pretty sure the wound wasn't healed completely, but she was not in the mood for some wisely old man.

"I'm going." Before the two could say anything, Iesha started to recite her teleportation incantation under her breath. 

"I'm afraid I can't let that happen," Galligan smiled and then grabbed Iesha and the other man by the arms. Almost immediately, Iesha feels a gust of wind propelling them and they're soaring. In the air. Iesha resisted the urge to puke. 

The ground below her was far, farther then she felt should have been possible. She felt the water in the air, practically tasting the clouds. Then, just like that, the trip was over. She's flung into an office that resided in a massive tower, and she landed rather unprofessionally on the expensive carpet lining the floor. 

"That was the worst experience I have ever had in my entire life," Iesha said, flatly. "I'm still leaving."

"I don't know many people who still use incantation magic," Galligan sternly gave Iesha the look only a disobedient child would get. "And I can only name one person who only used incantation magic. You look a lot like your father, Iesha Merl."

Iesha paled, then quickly recovered into her calm."I could care less about my father. What do you want?"

"You're just as blunt, too," Galligan laughed. "Oh, how rude of me to not introduce myself. I'm--"

"You're Galligan. Who's the other one?" Iesha jerked her head to the other man, who was watching the exchange with interest.

"Corilis," Ah, the man of maps. Iesha turned back to Galligan and returned his steely gaze.

"Great. Now, what do you want?" Iesha repeated.  

"Well first off, it would be nice if you told me why you had a knife in your stomach," Galligan said. "Second, I think I might need your help."

* * *

Woah! Cliffhanger! Because I don't have any more ideas left. Sorry JBE! 

Terrence X Corilis FTW. 

I guess we'll have to battle to the death! Corilis is popular!

(Also, JBE, the only reason I'm suggesting Terry/Cori is that I'm working on practicing slower character development & such, and this could be a good development. AlsobecauseIwantmyboiterrencetobeHAPPYandloved but shh)