Through a Glass, Darkly (Delphina VS The Mysterium)

[Bologna Prime]

Before Delphina's Throne of Seasons, the scant few trainees of the Royal Guard's five-year regimen deemed to meet the standards were offered their flowers by which to kneel and take their vows, to wear the accolades of being Delphina's exemplars, the crown's own hands and blades. An elite force, so it was instructed by the Lumin King himself: To be proud they should meet the mark of membership over, yet unenvied by those who had not. An elite force, for which he spared no hesitation in informing would be put upon tasks worthy of such a lofty status and imposing standard. Their first task foreshadowed, yet just what such a task might be kept shadowed so far as the public's concern lie. Briefings and dossiers passed around to those with a need to know.

Yet so too would it be foreshadowed in a dream more auspicious than most, so solicited from a sleepless entity few would dare to try upon. Placed to where its shadow would cast most ominously, and in doing so an old terror to Meranthe had given a key to himself, and his respite far from the common sight. Few indeed, would dare to trifle with the Lord of Time who had sooner witnessed the fall of numerous Meranthean civilizations and laid low many who'd sought to deliver his own fall, before knowing the first bit of it himself. Even fewer, now, would have the slightest clue by which to find him to try.

But a dream would be the key, or so it was forewarned. The door something more inconceivable than the passing currents of the spiral in a nook so dearly desperate to be forgotten by its motion. In every looking glass, every reflective pool, every gleam of polished blades and blades, every sheen in the black mirrors made by windows peering to naught but darkness. In everything that looked back with an image of one's self... there was a looming chance that self would be usurped by the image of something else breaching through. Ever since that dream, that inkling possibility that there was no bluff, that any moment if for want of knowing when the flurry of the leaf's finest blades come dashing through fierce and swift by the cycle's own rhythm in a ruthless pursuit through halls still and timeless.

If they did.

When they do.

Just what will they be looking for, of things lost to time?

Just what will they find, to wrest free from its clutch?

Objective:

Seizure of...

A relic which may no longer exist?

A fragment prized, yet supposedly irrelevant to the eye of His Luminescence?

A retribution yearned for by countless, yet why now of all times?

Cryptic machinations, the Faeborne oft conceive. Only time to tell, what is most truly sought at the edge of eternity.

Date: TBA