Ding, dong. The final bell tolled for the day, and students were flooding on out to go home. The school was of its own hustle and bustle in the past weeks, gently falling into a relaxed motion in the mild prospects of winter. It had been almost a month since the training sessions with Duncan, and many of the aberrant mages in the school had been their separate ways since then. Only every now and then did the group ever meet up for a casual event, bringing about a semblance of a 'normal high-school life'. The only noticeable marked difference was Percival's absence for the past few days, supposedly due to the flu. Only until that day, on that afternoon did the weirdness rear its ugly head again. Something strange happened, something that was sure to bring about a rampant suspicion, especially considering the circumstances. Unlike the rest of the students, that got to go home, every mage in the regular group went somewhere else.What is a soul?
Mages have asked that question ever since they broke the boundaries of death with necromancy. If a body can be dead biologically, but raised by tethering a 'soul' to it, what does that make the soul? If a construct can bring to life someone departed, then does that make it some kind mystic data, carrying the true life of a person? Why do some souls shine more brightly than others? Why do demon's crave them? Why do summoners study them? Why consider an abstract concept like a human soul, when the world can be explained with the loose physics of magic?
The mages of old discovered why, but their atrocities are for another time.
This is a story about something else, a place. This is a story about the Elementalia Magicus.
Those who have paid attention in their Mystic History 8 classes would understand what the realm of the Elementalia Magicus is, the Land of Dreams and Mist. Yet, the true history of this land was never truly explained to the people who foolishly worshiped the 'gods' of this world. In the old stories, the westerly mages considered the six Elemental Gods of the realm to be gods of magic, as they were astounded by the power and scope of the realm in which they could practice their magicks within. Yet, they never knew that these gods were never gods at all, but simply guardians of great power. The truth was never revealed, because it is lost to all but the 'gods' themselves. Even the Occultus Magica, the grand order of magic, lost the records to the very land they created.
In the olden years of civilization, mages sought safe haven from persecution of a fearful world. To guard themselves, and their knowledge, they crafted a platform which could architect a verdant realm. This platform, made of limestone, created the land of the Elementalia Magicus. A realm rich with magic, and filled prospective prosperity. Yet, not even the mages trusted themselves with it, and the sculptors of the platform sought ways of preserving order in not only themselves, but the elements of the land. A place filled with magic was bound to be unstable without control. The land needed something to channel the energy provided by a font to stabilize the world, and preserve its order. They needed Guardians.
So, the elder mages sought souls of great power to bind to their new home, and searched all over, even searching into the heavens to bind defenders to their realm.
The first was the son of Hannibal, the Blood Child, who bound the arts of destruction and calmed hatred.
The second and third were the daughters of the Lady of the Lake, the Puddle and Day Child. The puddle, tasked with binding the arts of creation and tempering justice. The day, bound the mystic sciences and dangerous curiosities.
The fourth was the daughter of Demeter, the Grain Child, tasked with monitoring the balance and to nurture the fruits of magic.
The fifth was the son of Gabriel, the Cloud Child, binder of the arts that moved space, and the eye of the guardians.
These six guardians were risen from nature and death to defend the Elementalia Magicus, and they did as they were bound. They nurtured the magic, developing life among life, even around the safe mages. The guardians created thralls which helped them tend the land, and shared their likeness in element. These thralls protected the resident mages, even from invaders who sought to break the realm. Alongside the Guardians, this small army preserved the lives of the elders as was directed and asked, but time was not an enemy they could ight.The sixth was the son of Loki, the Shade Child, binder of the arts that tore space, and the free agent of the pantheon.
When the mages died, and their font was robbed of his body, the guardians gathered magic from new visitors to the land from worship. This gave rise to the modern understanding of the Elementalia Magicus, and reflected what people see in it today as a mage's 'playground'. As long as the Mages their paid their respect, they could test whichever and whatever magicks they wished. The Guardians became Gods, and were respected as such, and the land knew prosperity. Yet the 'Gods' were as was said, people of great power, they suffered tragedy at the hubris of a single mage, and the Puddle Child's despair was enough to banish every human from the Magicus. Without magic, the guardians and thralls were left with a crumbling land, and no source of magic to preserve themselves. So they entered into a sleep, and had the land join them save for the Blood Child, who was ever vigilant.
The Land of Dreams and Mist knew 257 years of prosperity, and a century and a half of slumber after that.
Now the land awakens again, with its good, and its evil.
Which, oddly enough, was being hosted in Miller's classroom. The room itself was empty for the moment, barren of any student having to show up with their unexplained persecution, and of the pair of teachers assigned to watching them.