-Sébire-

The public square on the western tip of the Île de la Cité had turned out beautifully. The grand Shimano wedding put all other festivities in the last century to shame. Weather-mages of l'École d'Éléments had convened and made sure the weather was as near perfect as it could be. The flowers, grown and gifted by Mage Expert Fiore Chevalier, were in perfect form and abundance. He had made sure there were plenty of tulips, violets, and even the red camellias especially requested by Lady Shimano.

Most importantly, the sakura tree was in full bloom, having been magically grown and cultivated for this occasion. It now stood protectively over the couple at the center of all the attention. Today, Lady Sébire Shimano spoke her vows to Yvain Gendarmes, with much of the Parisii Order in attendance.

Against her family's tradition, Sébire wore her yellow-trimmed black robes of the Parisii Order. She had always considered her duties as a Parisii mage more important than those she inherited as the heir to the Shimano estate. Even still, her waist-length hair, blue-black and fine as silk, had been done in an elaborate style piled on top of her head and pinned with sparkling crystal ornaments.

Yvain, even dressed in his finest Lutetian garb, still seemed so plain standing next to her. Nearby, two attendants carried Sébire's and Yvain's crystal staves. Yvain's eyes were big and full of joy as he carefully repeated the words spoken to them by Archmage Alasdair, who was presiding over the ceremony.

The Third Archmage, Alasdair McKay, was stooped and thin. He was bald with a long white beard. Like all Mage Masters, he was clothed in white robes, but his were embroidered with all seven colors of the schools of magic. Archmage Alasdair's appearance belied his age, and the power he once held as Mage Second to Archmage Sonam.

It had been Alasdair who had helped Sonam separate the city from the world and secure it within its own dimension, during the event which came to be known as the Founding. The act had killed Sonam, and drained Alasdair of his youth, aging him far past his contemporaries Emyr and Ione. Though he had survived and remained as Archmage, his health had been in decline for nearly a century now, so much so that he rarely made public appearances.

When the ceremony was nearly finished, Yvain gently took Sébire's hand, and the two of them turned to face the gathered crowd. Crystal staves glittered in a rainbow of colors all around them. The newlyweds shared a smile as Yvain squeezed Sébire's hand. The moment seemed to last forever, until there were shouts and gasps from the crowd. A glint of silvery metal appeared out of the corner of Sébire's eye, speeding through the air towards her.

"Get down!" shouted Yvain, pulling Sébire to the ground before leaping towards the Archmage. He knocked a second gleaming knife from the air with a deft kick.

Sébire rolled to her back, holding out her slender hand for her bridesmaid to relinquish the azurite staff the girl had been carrying. The girl tossed the crystal shakujou to Sébire, who caught it and sprang to her feet. Yvain, too, had taken his pyrite staff and transformed it into a gleaming sword. Sébire glanced down at the daggers.

"Anatase?" she asked. She scanned the crowd, her deep blue eyes searching the faces around them. That was Ansgar's crystal.

A sudden, violent wind picked up, forcing Sébire to shield her eyes against it. When she opened her eyes again, Grand Master Emyr was standing near them, accompanied by his Mage Second, Siena Charis. The more the wind blew, Sébire realized, the more clearly, she could see, and the scene changed around them. Pain erupted in her shoulder, and she cried out, dropping her staff to clutch at the wound that had appeared.

"Illusions?" she gasped. "From whom?"

Then shouts from the crowd rose again. "It's Grand Master Günay!" called several voices. "He's alive!" Then there was screaming and shouting as more of those in attendance realized what was happening. Many of them began to flee, but several activated their magic, ready to jump into whatever battle might be brewing. Most, however, stood staring in shock.

Sébire stared at Günay. Even after Grand Master Emyr's hurried warning that morning, she did not believe it. A sound behind her made her turn.

"Yvain!" she warned.

Ansgar stood over the Archmage, his anatase staff transformed into a deadly poleaxe. He swung it downwards, and Yvain brought his staff up to block it, but Ansgar's attack stopped before the crystal weapons met. A brown andalusite shepherd's crook swung at him.

"Siena!" Yvain exclaimed. Siena Charis hooked her staff around Ansgar's arm and pulled him backwards, jerking him out of his attack. Then she grabbed hold of his staff with one hand, dragging him along as she now hooked her staff around his neck to hold him in place.

"Conjuration: Menottes en pierre," she said, and the ground below her cracked and reshaped itself, forming chains and cuffs of stone around Ansgar's ankles and wrists. "Yvain, Sébire, are you two alright?"

Sébire grimaced, still pressing into her bleeding shoulder, but she nodded. Nearby, Kato was caught in a torrent of wind, unable to move or use his Illusion Gift. Yvain and Sébire stood on either side of the Archmage, glaring at the third member of the attack. Sébire lifted her staff, ignoring the pain in her shoulder, but Yvain put his hand on her elbow.

"You can't, not in Emyr's wind," he shouted over the gust. Sébire clenched her teeth. Of course she could, she was rarissime! She started to speak a spell when a small bolt of lightning struck the ground between her and Günay. Mélissa, Ione, and a giant lioness appeared beside him; he had no time to react before the two women grabbed hold of him and the lioness clamped down on his white robe. Sébire felt the crackling static that ran through the air from Mélissa's crystal staff, held to Günay's neck like a blade.

"It's over, Günay," Ione warned in a cold voice as she and Mélissa held the traitor firmly in place. "Emyr! Emyr, are you alright?"

Nearby, Emyr looked towards Ione, his expression softening. "I'm just fine, Io," he told her. "No physical injuries here."

Grand Master Günay's expression remained neutral. Sébire frowned. It seemed too easy. Perhaps that was simply the power of Grand Master Emyr's de-spelling Gift. She heard Ansgar sigh dramatically.

"Well, it seems we've gotten caught." He looked over his shoulder at Siena. "Si, you always did know me too well!"

"Stop talking," Siena advised, but Sébire saw her hands were trembling. Günay laughed.

"What's so funny?"Mélissa demanded, confiscating Günay's aquamarine staff.

"I am terribly sorry," Günay responded, though he did not seem very sorry at all, "but seeing as my element of surprise has indeed been ruined, I must take my leave of you all."

"Have you become this corrupt, Günay? Why?" Ione demanded. One hand held his wrist while the other, transformed into a large cat's paw, pressed on his chest.

Günay's expression turned sour but he moved his gaze around those gathered before stopping at Emyr. "You are all so blinded by your self-righteousness. We call ourselves the Élu, the Chosen of Elam, yet we cower here in Lutèce, hidden away from the world Elam gave to us! The world that should be ours!"

"What did you hope to achieve here?" Ione's voice nearly broke, and it shocked Sébire. She had never heard any softness or weakness from her. Sébire noticed too that Emyr was staring at Ansgar, as if waiting for something. More tricks and treachery, no doubt, she decided. She could not figure out the more dangerous one; the Battlemage in chains or the Illusionist caught in Emyr's dispelling wind.

Günay was still speaking, as if to a rapt audience. "No one has ever stood at the top, have they?" Günay mused. "Not even the Archmage has gained such power as Elam himself. It's only a mere title. It does not make them stronger or more powerful than the rest of us. I will change that! I will bring the Élu back into the world, I will join the Gifted races together for good!"

"And you'll be at the top of it all," Ione scoffed. "You think yourself some sort of prophet?"

"No, not a prophet. I will be better than a charlatan. I will herald the new age myself, rather than just foretell it."

"I won't follow you," growled Mélissa.

"Then you will die, and only the true Chosen shall live in my new world." Günay looked at Emyr, then at Ione. "Our time is ending. You know that as well as I. I choose to use it to transform the worlds once and for all into something greater."

Günay's aquamarine crystal staff shimmered, then melted like ice into water. Mélissa tried to catch it, but the aquamarine liquid simply slipped through her fingers. The rivers surrounding the city reacted violently, flooding the edges of Lutèce on all sides. Above them, the sky began to ripple and tear, eliciting shouts and gasps from the gathered Élu. The city went dark as the sun itself looked to be swallowed up by the rift forming in the sky.

Sébire gasped as her azurite staff began to vibrate, so much so that she was forced to drop it. 'Eru,' she called in her mind, 'what's happening?'

Eru's voice was hard and flat. It indicated to Sébire nothing but chaos, then its sound ceased. The anima's presence faded from Sébire's mind, and she abruptly felt empty.

'Eru! Eru!'

Many of the mages shouted in surprise and dropped their staves, too, as the magic within their crystals reacted to the anomaly above. Mélissa's static zapped out as her staff went dull like yellow stone, and Emyr's swirling cyclone died down, releasing Kato from its hold. Behind Sébire, All eyes were focused on the rift, including Sébire's. Emyr stepped forward. His storm-grey eyes were hard, and angry as no one had ever seen him. In the blackness of the opening rift, they could see the faint glow of sanscoeur.

"How is this possible?" Sébire asked him. "That's Crystallos! Sanscoeur can't enter Lutèce!"

Ansgar struggled half-heartedly against Siena; the rock chains had crumbled when the rift above had poured chaotic magic into Lutèce. He looked over his shoulder. "Si, let me go."

Siena shook her head. "No," she hissed. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Siena," warned Ansgar, "let go, now!" He shook himself for forcefully, and Sébire thought Siena would lose her grip. Sébire lunged for Ansgar to help hold him, grabbing his other arm.

"Unlike the rest of you," Günay's voice cut through the commotion, "I don't need the Portail Ultime to get in to Crystallos."

As the sky continued to rip apart, Emyr started shouting for everyone to get behind him. Sébire and Yvain helped the Archmage to his feet and pulled him into the safety of Emyr's magic. Sébire saw a similar look of recognition cross Ione's face as her bright amber eyes widened. She looked at Mélissa.

"Mel! Get away from him!"

Immediately, both mages leapt away from Günay. Sébire followed their lead, moving away from Ansgar. In less time than a heartbeat, three strong currents of magic, like a tornado or whirlpool, descended from the rift. They engulfed Günay, Ansgar, and Kato, and swept them up into the sky. Grand Master Emyr raised his staff, and with a silent command, a great dome of magic encased all those on the ground. Sébire felt a rush of calm as the torrent of Crystallos magic died, and a moment of contact with her own anima allowed her a sigh of relief.

"Siena!" Yvain shouted, drawing Emyr's attention.

"No!" roared Emyr. Yvain raised his staff too, but the Archmage held them both back with a single word.

"Stop," he said. Sébire looked at him incredulously. "That rift is more dangerous than anything right now. It is a direct path between our realm and Crystallos. Once caught in the Stream, it is nearly impossible to escape."

Sébire turned her gaze back to the rift. Emyr's face was full of rage, and he was shaking. He must have known he could not save Siena, that was why he did not try. Sébire shook her head to clear it. It happened so fast.

"How did he manage it?" Ione asked, coming to stand next to Emyr. "The rift, I mean."

Emyr shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Beside her, Yvain slammed the top of his pyrite staff on the ground, nearly splitting the ground and turning it to rubble. He yelled in frustration and Sébire watched helplessly as the rift closed. Emyr dispelled his barrier and hung his head.

Sébire looked around at the ruined square. It looked as if it had been hit by a series of natural disasters, and she wondered if the rest of the island was similarly affected. Her heart fell when she saw the cherry tree, which had become shriveled and dead as if touched by a disease.

"Well," Archmage Alasdair said gravely, "let us begin our work."

Emyr and Ione nodded and began shouting orders. "Healers on the ground now! We need communications back up! How fares the rest of the city? Any non-essential Parisii, get treated and leave the area immediately!"

Green-sashed Healers, from the youngest Novices to the advanced Experts, swarmed. One approached Sébire and without even speaking, began inspecting her shoulder. Sébire breathed easily as the wound began to stitch together and the throbbing ceased.

"Can you move your arm?" the Healer asked bluntly. Sébire tried, wincing only slightly at the tightness in her muscle, and nodded. The Healer moved on without another word.

"Communications are completely down," Sébire heard Mélissa tell Emyr and Ione. "Our magic isn't stable enough to be of any use. Short-distance communications, maybe."

"That shouldn't affect me,"Sébire said, standing. "I think. My soundwaves should be able to boost our Communicators until everyone else is connected again."

Emyr smiled. "Wonderful. Master Mélissa, can you begin immediately?"

Mélissa nodded, "Right."

Sébire turned to face Yvain, who stood there, looking lost. "I don't understand," he stammered. "Master Ansgar, and Kato too? How?"

Sébire caressed his cheek. "I don't know. But we cannot do anything about it right now. We need to do our best to help Lutèce. As Ansgar's Mage Second, you will be under scrutiny from now on."

"I hadn't thought of that." Yvain sighed. He started to say more, but finally saw the barren sakura tree. "Oh, Bijou. I'm so sorry," he sighed. He bent down and picked up a wilted camellia.

"It was a perfect day," lamented Sébire. "Thank you for sharing it with me, Yvain."

***

-Siena-

In the confusion and commotion, Siena Charis had little time to register what was happening. Only that morning, Grand Master Emyr had told her of his suspicions. Even after he had told her to follow him, unseen, Siena had not wanted to believe it. Not Ansgar. Everything erupted into chaos, and when they arrived at the wedding, she did not stop to think. She ran towards Ansgar, stopping him, holding him, and refused to let go. Her fellow mages had escaped the rift. She did not jump away in time and had held on a little too long.

Then everything had started spinning. One minute Siena was standing there, holding onto Ansgar and the next she was being pulled into a vacuum, a void of nothingness. She could not breathe, and her vision blurred until everything went dark. Finally, she landed, hard, on a stone floor, gasping for air but finding little to draw into her lungs. The atmosphere was oppressive; she felt the swirling wild magic pressing in on her. She could not protest as Kato confiscated herself, or as Ansgar lifted her, almost gently, to her feet. An overwhelming emptiness washed over her as she realized she could not feel her anima, Ihi.

Siena looked up into the familiar, narrow face and pale eyes, partially hidden by long bangs. He was smiling; but Ansgar was always smiling. She tore her face away and looked around. They were in a gigantic room that looked to belong inside a castle.

Ansgar whistled. "Kato, is it me, or has the castle gotten bigger somehow?" The third man, silent and stoic Kato, turned his head away without answering. Ansgar raised his eyebrows. "Guess you still don't like me much, huh?"

"Where am I?" Siena demanded when she had found her voice.

"Welcome to Crystallos, Mage Second Charis," Günay said, his voice amused but calm. He motioned widely around them. "This is Crystallos Castle. Isn't it glorious?"

Siena's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's not possible," she gasped.

Günay smiled. "I assure you; it is quite possible. Not quite the eternal paradise the Déchu believe it to be, but not the dark void the Élu make of it. Legends and stories can never be trusted."

"I demand you release me!" Siena said with more ferocity than she felt in that moment.

With a laugh and a dismissive wave, Günay responded, "I am afraid I cannot do what you ask."

Or unwilling, thought Siena. Aloud she said, "Your plan failed, Günay. Emyr stopped you. You didn't kill the Archmage."

"Yes," Günay observed, a slight frown twitching on his lips. "Emyr was always meddlesome. Fortunately killing the Archmage was only one small step. My plans have not yet fallen to pieces. They merely require a little extra work. I am not so narrow-minded as to rest all my hopes on a single, tiny detail. Alasdair is frail and sick. I doubt he will live long enough to see my actual goals come to fruition anyway."

A new wave of cold swept over Siena and she felt faint. Günay had turned his back to her and Ansgar, inspecting the room. Out of the corner of her eye she saw glowing creatures, tiny half-formed sanscoeur scurrying about in the shadows. It was dark, yet the castle itself seemed to glow faintly. Her vision blurred again, and she struggled to focus on Günay.

The former Grand Master approached a great, tall dais upon which sat a throne. It did not seem very comfortable to Siena, but Günay touched it reverently.

"It is said," Günay began after a moment, "that Elam himself sat upon the throne of Everlasting. It does not look so great or big, now." Günay stepped up and turned around, taking a seat on the throne. His white robes with green trim were dull compared to the softly glowing stone throne, but his aquamarine staff shone with life.

"From here I shall watch my new kingdom grow," he said as if to himself. A feeling of dread rose in Siena. Günay looked at her, and almost as an afterthought said, "Kato, show our guest to a room somewhere in the eastern halls. Last I checked they remained relatively empty. It would not do to frighten her so quickly with the castle's current residents."

Kato took a rough hold of Siena, pulling her away from Ansgar. He lifted his crystal staff to her temple. Magic swirled around the tip of the amethyst staff as the crystal glowed. Siena could see the magic. The purply hue of Kato's Gift was frightening. He snarled, and the thin, pale scar that sliced across his left eye made him more menacing in that moment.

"She'll be less of a liability if I just-" the Illusionist began, but he stopped when a thin anatase knife pressed to his throat.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Kato," warned Ansgar through his ever-present smile. "None of your dreams. I've seen what happens to those you trap, and I just don't think that's very hospitable of you."

Siena stood, frozen to the spot, trapped between two Mage Masters she had once trusted.

Günay sighed dramatically from his seat on the throne. "Do stop this petty bickering. I hoped you both would have grown out of it by now. If the two of you killed each other, it would leave me no subordinates with any amount of intelligence to continue moving forward."

For once, Ansgar was no longer smiling as he glared at Kato. The Illusions Master slowly lowered his staff. In his other hand, he held Siena's andalusite staff, which had become dull and lifeless in the Crystallos air. Siena wished she could have it, if only to have something to lean on for support. It was still so hard to breathe, here.

'Ihi,' she called in her mind, but the anima that shared her mind and soul did not respond. She felt empty.

Ansgar had also lowered his weapon, the sharp dagger transformed back into its true form. Siena rarely saw him carrying his full staff. She wondered if he, too, was affected by Crystallos's magic, and unable to keep his staff transformed.

"Much better, thank you," Günay said with a gracious smile. Siena glared at him. "She will not be a liability, Kato, no need to go to such an extreme. Oh, do not look at me that way, Expert Charis. You are our guest, so we shall make you as comfortable as we can."

Siena struggled against Kato's grip, but he held her much too tightly. "Günay, do you believe you can avoid the Parisii? Eventually they'll come for you, and you will fall."

"They will not come for me, not here. What little was known of Crystallos died with Kason Élysées and Archmage Sonam, and what knowledge is left of the realm is enough to keep Emyr and Ione well enough away." Günay raised his thick eyebrows and spread out his hands. "I would ask you to refrain from using such familiar language with me. The rules here shall remain as they ever were in Lutèce. You will address me as Grand Master, or if you wish Lord Günay."

He still seemed every bit the kind teacher and Healer, with an open, round face and soft features. Yet Siena saw a new hardness in his expression. She felt a moment of panic and she did manage, this time, to break away from Kato's hands.

"Conjuration: Fissure!" she shouted, pressing her hand to the ground.

The floor should have cracked and split apart, but not even the slightest tremble came. All that happened was Siena felt her energy drain from her so completely, it was like she was a child using her first spell. She was lightheaded and the room spun around her. She thought she would be sick, but then everything went colder and darker. She was falling. The voices around her were slurred and she could no longer make out the words. Arms grabbed hold of her before she lost all consciousness.