The rain poured from the sky gently still, giving the limestone platform a strange sense of tranquility despite the chaotic entry, and the sudden change. Water pooled in the carved edges and rolled off the sides in a languid display. There was a sense of calm and peace here, but at the same time, a creeping sense of exposure. One was not exposed to the elements, but to the world in a larger way, as if there were no defense. The sensation was much like being out in the rain, but in the middle of a street, that feeling of peace with the occasional glance over the shoulder for a car.On the platform, it never rained or became too uncomfortable, it always clear and safe from the weather. It was supposed to be a haven for mages, in case things got out of hand on the ground. The guardians could defend you, protect you from some experiment gone bad or a construct run amok. I always felt comfort in rest on the edge of the platform, despite the height, talking with the Puddle Child and Day Child in the waxing hours. The sisters loved to put aside things just to chat.
In the distance, mountains crested all around them. As if a border to the very realm itself, they cut and cragged a circle around the immense land below them. Valleys, lakes, rivers, forests, plains, and even a few small towns dotted over the landscape. Yet, one feature, particularly of the towns seemed show of a unique interest. Each small city, which could be seen, was near a major type of land mark. One city was by and carved into a mountain with a smoke crest. Another was built on and around the largest lake in the land. A third was nestled inside the thick forest, homes dotting inside glades. The fourth was much like the first, except it was mounted on the roof of a plateau on the opposite side of the countryside. The fifth was situated towards the center, seemingly acting as a crossroads to all.
Yet the world was cold, chilling, and... Crumbling. On the edge of the mountains, there could be seen a small section that was seemingly withering into the sky. Bits and pieces of land, trees, and water carried themselves into a hole in the clouds, a hole that yielded no light, but darkness instead. On any other day, in any other age, this place would be a paradise.
Now, it seemed like the glory had withered and separated itself and had given up.
In those moments of observation, the smell of burning wood took to the breeze. The crackling sound of war and destruction lofted took to the air. In their hearts, they could feel the sensation of staring upon ruin choking up into their chest. Miller knew this sensation, he knew the signs.
A portal of red-lines and fire tore open at the edge of the limestone platform.
They recognized him, stepping forth from the portal, Aurus, the God of Fire and War. He was not the small, adorable fighter they had come to know. Aurus was in full form, a staggering twelve feet tall, with dark plates segmented by magma orange lines. The skulls of ancient, and terrible beasts rested on his shoulders, their mouths releasing smoke and ash defiantly into the air.The Blood Child.
The holes that were made to see from were alight with an orange glow, and the occasional flame licking the corners. When the rain came onto his shoulders and head, it steamed back up into the heavens.The Son of Hannibal. Hannibal, the man who defied Rome and the first known organized Occultus Magicus. He was a non-mag that fought toe to toe with arch-mages, and won.
"Modeka was successful."Who better to police the Magi than his son?
Unlike the time they had seen this terrible form in person back in their realm, Aurus' voice had a terrifying resonance in their chests. Every syllable played their hearts like a drum, threatening to off-set pace of their beats.
"You whelps seem to be all that can salvage our font now."