Commencement One: Harbinger

Idian Wars 1002-1028*, 1043-1064

Spring 1064

Inggison

Lumiel watched from afar as the last remaining legions of daevas fled from Balaurea.

The teleports stopped working, she had heard. The aetheric field was too unstable. The earth was shaking, and the obelisks were crumbling. The Griffoen was not ready yet; they needed more time.

He was down there.

She crouched in the shadows, watching Inggison from the clifftop in a manner more suitable for a lady of Death than a lady of Wisdom. The Asmodians needed to know how many Elyos were survivors, she told herself, if the Seraphim Lord was in fighting condition or not. She was surveillance, not action. The gathering of knowledge came first. Something in her heart throbbed- she would not interfere.

Drakan wings beat heavily in the aetherless sky as the injured daevas struggled to ready the airship. Two of the Dragon Lords, Meslamtaeda and Ahserion, slammed their enormous bodies into the rippling, dome-like shield encasing the fortress. Only one Aether generator was left; those that had been erected outside the fortress walls had been reduced to splinters.

From her vantage point, she could clearly see the small clusters of daevas sprinting in a hopeless charge for safety across what had been the Wild and Calmheart Groves. Without their illusions, the lush and sparkling gardens had reverted to a dry, barren wasteland, devoid of cover for the doomed Elyos and leaving them easy pickings for the Balaur. Her heart hardened, quashing any pangs of sorrow as she watched two battered guardians vaporized mere inches from safety.

They were at war. There was no place for sympathy on the battlefield.

Through the haze, she could just make out the shape of Kaisinel's enormous wings heaving in time with the Balaurs'. Both of his hands were extended ,powering and constantly repairing the force field as it strained under the Dragon Lords' relentless assault. Behind him, the Griffoen creaked at it moorings while the ant-like daevas frantically readied the airship for flight. From a single glance, Lumiel could tell that they were too slow. The Lord of Illusion was still weakened from the Upheaval. He had barely enough energy to maintain his combat form, let alone a protective spell of such caliber. His shield wouldn't hold for much longer. The Balaur struck the barrier again.

Despite the burning hatred that churned at the thought of the traitorous Lord, intrigue and bewilderment pressed at Lumiel's mind with growing insistence. Something was off. This behavior- it wasn't like him; head-to-head defensive magic was never his specialty. She had enough experience fighting both alongside and against him to recognize his fighting style. Even when cornered, he was a mage and a creative one at that. No matter how weak he was, if there was no third option, he found a way to make one.

"What do you think you're doing…" she murmured almost silently, her eyes flitting across the scene as she tried to piece together the situation. He had to know it wouldn't work. Kaisinel was a fool, but he was an intelligent fool. It didn't make sense.

The dragons moved a few paces back and hung in the air, the cadenced wingbeats silent. Time itself seemed to slow to a crawl.

Then Ahserion lifted his great sapphire head, threw his jaw back, and screamed.

The unrelenting, high-pitched shriek sliced the thin air to ribbons. Lumiel jammed her hands over her ears and gasped as an explosion of white-hot pain cut through her head like a flaming maul driven through her skull. The taste of hot iron filled her mouth, dribbling down her chin and onto her chest, spotting the dust with red. Those nearest to the dragon lord collapsed in violent spasms, their thick red lifeblood pouring from their shattered eyes and ears before dissolving into aetherdust.

Dark haze pressed at the edge of her vision as her passive magic began to fail under the sonic lashing. Her claws flew to her throbbing head. The intense pressure of the balic wail suffocated all other thought, thrashing her mind without mercy. Lumiel inhaled sharply, eyes clenched shut against the grating scream. If she wanted to escape intact, she had to stop the attack-even if it meant using her powers and giving away her position. With trembling fingers, she reached for her spellbook.

As if Aion himself had answered her prayers, the massive dragon snapped his jaws shut with a click, swallowing the ghastly sound as quickly as it had began. Suddenly, the battlefield was deathly, eerily silent. Even the draconic underlings dared not move.

After several tense seconds, she lifted her head. The land was dotted with the corpses of fallen daevas, and in the center of it all were the Dragon Lords, glinting with arrogant malice. Inside the aether dome, Kaisinel's weak, erratic wingbeats were now barely able to keep him aloft. The ignorant fool turned his head subtly towards her hiding place. Blue eyes locked with molten gold.

In that single moment, two thousand years that he had spend shrouded in bitterness and hatred fell away, revealing beneath time and tragedy a man that Lumiel had tried for so long to forget. For the first time since the split in their peoples, the Shedim Lady glimpsed in him the shy young mage she had spent countless hours alongside in the libraries of Aion, before their world shattered and his blind, selfish yearning for peace drove them apart. A lump rose in Lumiel's throat; she swallowed it quickly and lifted her head in proud defiance. He, Yustiel, Ariel- her old friends were but cowardly reminders of all the things that had been stolen from her and her people. Her loyalty was resolute. She would not interfere.

Meslamtaeda and Ahserion raised their wings, charging their final attack.

This is the price of your naïveté, Kaisinel.

The corners of the Seraphim's lips twitched in a broken smile, nothing less than a perfect picture of surrender. Yet somehow in the tilt of his head and the steadiness of his gaze, Lumiel could sense an unmistakable note of triumph.

Her eyes narrowed. It was his end. The Lord of Illusions would fall in Inggison, and they both knew it.

Lumiel's eyes widened. She had made a mistake in coming here. Against her better judgement, she took a step towards the edge of the cliff, leaning forward enough to feel the edges of the dragon lords' massive energy vortex whipping across her cheeks.

Her lips moved nearly of their own accord, speaking the words they both knew. "Reveal my presence," she mouthed silently, "and you get your vengeance."

Then the surroundings melted away and the distance closed between them, leaving nothing but herself and the fool, staring into each other's soul. Like a giant wave, the past crashed over her. Overpowering emotions she had thought long dead rose to the surface, burdening her with feelings she had sworn to never touch again. Parchment and feathers soared through her memories, dozens upon thousands of scenes filled with equal parts warmth and pain, laced with recollections of that force that drew them so inexplicably together, and ultimately the tragedies that kept them apart. Their precious, final seconds stretched into minutes as if by Siel's intervention.

The Balic Lords raised their necks, revealing twin orbs of fire pulsing in their throats. Suddenly, Lumiel realized she wasn't ready to say goodbye.

With the snap of breaking glass, Kaisinel's shield shattered and crumbled into nothingness. As if in mockery of her sudden revelation, the Seraphim Lord dropped slowly from the sky, a lone speck of blue burning against the dragons' inferno. Meslamtaeda's piercing croon of victory arched overhead. Lumiel's eyes, stinging from the massive waves of force still rolling off the battlefield, were frozen wide.

It was over.

Her quavering knees crumpled beneath her and a dry, humorless laugh forced its way from her throat.

So many years, so many losses, so many betrayals and broken promises...and it was all over.

Just when she didn't want it to be.

You bloody idiot. Her vision blurred. You promised.

The balaur converged like starved karnifs, slamming the fallen lord with an onslaught of magic seals. Spell after spell flew mercilessly until Kaisinel's weak aether signature was scarcely distinguishable beneath the hundreds of enchantments. It was a show of dominance; she could feel that the seraphim's power was so depleted that even if bound by human means, escape would have been impossible.

The Illusion fortress was gone. The Griffoen had been replaced with nothing but scorched earth and smoldering flames. It was as if the fleeing, beaten daevas that had been there mere moments before had never existed. Lumiel tore her gaze away from the scene below and forced herself to her feet. The battle was done; there was no reason for her to stay any longer. Strangled grief twisted like a ridged dagger in her chest. She swallowed it down.

Looks like you got your revenge after all.

*Upheaval (headcanon)