Aaron frowned with growing restlessness as Cassandra argued with her retinue. Meanwhile, he fended off introductions and polite enquiries from other saints and saintesses while servants from the Magisterium loaded bodies and body parts onto carts.
“Should we leave without her?” Magda wondered aloud. “It’s risky business getting two through on one transponder, three might be pushing it.”
“Maybe. I fear every second counts.” Aaron cleaned his blades, using a flask to rinse the gore from his mask.
Magda sighed dramatically. “Aw, and here I quite liked the juxtaposition. That shiny halo of yours floating above a mask splattered in blood and gore. It’s an intimidating helm too. Most saints choose the heads fearsome beasts or legendary creatures to imitate, yours removes identity and ego altogether. Positively ominous.”
Aaron glanced at her in confusion. “My what?”
“Which part? The ominous mask, or your halo manifesting at the end of your fight?”
“My halo?”
Magda replied with a lazy blink. “Well…yes. I haven’t exactly had time to read up on all the finer details of Sainthood, but I believe halos appear when we perform good deeds, or at least make genuine progress upon our sainthood. That I know this, and you don’t, suggests things were even grimmer than I imagined, the last time around.”
“Huh. No, it’s just that thought I would have felt it.” Aaron mumbled half to himself, thoughts drifting unbidden to the only time Magda’s halo had appeared in his previous life. In fact, it was the only time he’d seen any saint manifest one, himself included. That he’d managed it this early suggested he might be on the right path after all.
“It’s probably why the elf princess is suddenly so keen to cling to you like a barnacle,” Magda continued lazily. “Divine proof of your worthiness.”
“Princess?” Aaron had suspected Cassandra was high nobility, though he’d never had the time, or the ability, to delve into the backgrounds of all the saints, particularly those from realms that fell early in the Bellum Existentiae. That his halo was a sign of trust, Aaron didn’t know what to think about that yet.
“Just a guess.” She shrugged. “Isn’t she just too pretty?”
Aaron’s gaze rested on Magda, lingering a moment too long on her face, her luminous violet eyes, her untamed hair. He couldn’t help but smile when she quickly glanced away, a blush spreading beneath her freckled cheeks.
She slapped him playfully on the chest. “That is unfair, you’ve clearly had practice.”
“Practice?” Aaron chuckled, knowing exactly what she meant.
“That look.” Magda fanned herself theatrically. “Put it away, it’s dangerous.”
Despite the seriousness of their situation, the impending life-or-death struggle, Aaron laughed.
Nearby, Cassandra’s retinue continued their heated argument.
“Saintess, we all saw it, but you’re far too important to risk yourself on such a suicide mission. If you stay, we’re prepared to form a faction around you. With Magisterium support, you could investigate his claims properly, ”
Another voice cut in. “I stand with Lady, Saintess Cassandra. If there are breaches here, forming factions is the last thing, ”
Aaron stepped forward, donning his mask as he caught the tail-end of their conversation. “We’re going,” he announced firmly. “We could certainly use your help, Saintess, but time isn’t on our side.”
Cassandra gave a small nod. “Of course.”
One of her attendants looked stricken. “You seriously can’t be considering, ”
Cassandra raised a hand sharply, silencing them. “I’ll return. Helping him save one of our brethren is the least I can do in repayment and a task worthy of our calling.”
“Surely, there are other ways to uphold your honour, ”
“Enough!” Cassandra’s voice was unyielding. She turned to Aaron, extending her hand as if in introduction. “I’m ready.”
His gauntleted hands firmly grasped hers, as Magda, on his other side, held out the demonic artefact. A heartbeat later, the ruby flared to life, infused by the magic Magda had once described as her special blend of Mana, Aether, and something else entirely. The scene around them rippled and distorted as though viewed through warped glass. Aaron’s stomach churned, his innards twisting and stretching as reality reshaped itself.
Then, abruptly, they stood inside a small, rocky cavern.
Three demons stared at them, confusion clear in their expressions, as if trying to recall whether this was part of the plan or something had gone terribly wrong.
“Hello, I’ve come to deliver a sermon." Aaron announced and casually approached. As he closed within ten yards, he drew one of his estocs from his side in a diagonal slash that released a scything beam of light. The first demon’s head toppled before it had even registered the attack.
The other demons roared in rage and charged. Aaron met the first head-on, calmly driving his blade through its throat even as the creature raised its slab-like sword to strike.
He spun swiftly, sensing the third demon bearing down on him, but it was frozen in place. Purple tendrils held it fast, Magda’s magic enveloping the creature like an insect trapped in amber. Aaron took advantage of the brief moment, pivoted before delivering a clean horizontal slash. The blade sliced through the demon’s unarmoured skull, splitting its brainpan open.
Quiet filled the cavern as Aaron listened before moving around the chamber to inspect the corridors for reinforcements or signs that their arrival had been noticed. Magda knelt to inspect the fallen demons. Just as Aaron began to feel confident their position was secure, space rippled near the spot where they'd first arrived.
Aaron reacted instantly, lunging forward, sword extended towards the warping distortion.
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“Wait!” Cassandra shouted.
The distortion solidified into a figure, a woman Aaron recognised as part of Cassandra’s retinue. He halted mid-step, before stepping back, pushing Cassandra behind him and placing himself protectively between the two saintesses and the new arrival.
The woman quickly raised her hand, displaying a familiar artefact, one nearly identical to the transponder Magda had used to bring them here.
“They found another transponder,” she said hurriedly, her voice faltering slightly as she registered the tension in the air. “I…decided to tag along. If that's all right with everyone?”
“Ooh, you should definitely stab her… With your sword.” Magda drawled, only half-joking.
Aaron’s voice remained calm, though every muscle in his body was taut, his mind racing as he tried to dredge up non-existent memories of the person before him. “Who are you?”
“Just little old me, Debs, Saintess of Thorns?” Seeing Aaron’s confusion, the redheaded fox-woman turned pleading eyes towards Cassandra. “Cassie? A little help here?”
“I can vouch for her. She’s from my realm, my former bodyguard, and she fought against the demons back there.”
Aaron risked a quick look towards Magda, who, after a pause, gave a single, reluctant nod. He had no memory of a Saintess of Thorns. Other kitsune, yes, a male Saint of Shadows and a grey-pelted Saint of Fear, but this woman, nor her aspect, registered at all in his near-photographic memory.
Still, to immediately and lethally act on suspicion alone, when given adequate reason for doubt, was a level of paranoia Aaron wasn’t willing to entertain. He lowered his blade.
“Very well. If you’re here to help, then I suggest we start with introductions. I am Aaron Hueber, Saint of Swords.”
“Cassandra Ljoswyn Aenvaldr, Saintess of Life.”
“Magda, Saintess of Forbidden Knowledge.”
“As I said, Debs, Debryn Villeneuve, Saintess of Thorns.” Debryn hesitated at the threshold, her natural affability tempered by uncertainty.
Her ember-red hair framed a face that was a striking blend of elegance, wildness and grace. Fox-like ears and large, fluffy tail twitched at every sound, betraying nerves she tried to mask. Golden eyes flickered over him, sharp, wary. While small, pointed canines flashed as she spoke. Her voice a casual, cockney to go with her informal disposition.
She was dressed for battle, the sleek black bodysuit fitting her like a second skin, yet she stood as though unsure if she belonged. Clawed fingers flexed at her sides, the instinct to act or react warring with hesitation. The smirk she half-formed wasn’t quite convincing. She wasn’t fearless, no matter how hard she tried to project it, and that made her dangerous in a different way.
Magda tilted her head, her voice lilting with curiosity. “I can cast spells, he can slice things, and she can mend people. Just what can a Saintess of Thorns do, exactly?”
"These," she held up her claws, "secrete paralytic venom. Just a scratch is enough to disable a normal person. I have magic that reflects other magic, and I’m also pretty good with a crossbow."
Aaron looked her over. "Do you have one with you?"
Debryn gestured toward Cassandra with a nod. "She has all my stuff."
"Of course." Cassandra retrieved a sleek crossbow and a bolt quiver from what Aaron could only assume was her Ring of Holding. He wondered whether the ring was a family heirloom, an artefact from her world, or a gift granted to her as one of the more promising saints during the Calling. After retrieving the bow, Cassandra donned an elven-styled breastplate over her exquisite dinner dress.
"You said another bracelet was found?" Aaron said, watching Debryn carefully. "Did someone put you up to following me?"
"Er, no, well… It was found, well I found it. But then things turned into a bit of a row after you left, so I figured I’d see where you ended up while everyone else was too busy arguing. And, well… here we are."
"Do you know why we’re here?" Aaron asked.
"Not really. Cassie said something about rescuing a missing saint?" Debryn replied.
All eyes turned to Aaron.
He searched Cassandra’s and Debryn’s faces, the protracted stillness stretching taut, deepening the already uneasy atmosphere.
A notification flared to life in his mind's eye.
You have invited Magda, Debryn Villeneuve, and Cassandra Ljoswyn Aenvaldr to your Sanctorum.
They blinked in confusion as the corresponding invites materialised in their inner sight. One by one, they accepted.
"What’s this?" Debryn asked, squinting at the glowing text before it faded.
"This is our Sanctorum," Aaron explained. "It allows saints to form formal parties. As we grow, more of our abilities will manifest through the Sanctorum, enhancing the group’s overall strength. For now, words spoken with the intent to be heard by one another will always reach their target, as long as we’re within range. I believe that at this level of ascension, that range is only about a hundred feet."
Cassandra tilted her head, eyes slightly unfocused. "I can feel something else… I can sense all of you. Your directions. Even if I close my eyes."
Aaron nodded. "Yes. Some of you will get additional benefits depending on your aspect. You can leave at any time, but in a place like this, an extra safety measure in case we get split up, won’t hurt. It’ll also help us communicate, which I hope we’ll be doing more of in the near future."
"Yes, I believe some answers are in order." Cassandra asked.
"Very well," Aaron said, his voice steady. "But first, I need you all to swear an oath on your sainthood. You must tell no one. And I mean not a single person, about what I’m about to reveal."
"I accept," Cassandra said without hesitation.
Debryn glanced at her, then nodded slowly. "I also accept."
"Me too," Magda added, stepping closer.
Aaron exhaled, bracing himself.
"We are here because I have lived this life before. I was the Saint of Time." His voice was calm, but his words carried the weight of ages. "I witnessed our defeat in the Bellum Existentiae. I saw how, one by one, every realm fell to the dual-pronged invasion of horrors from beyond the void and the demons of malice, creatures that feed on the very essence of our world."
His gaze locked onto Cassandra. "I saw the despair and chaos that followed your death that first day after the Calling. And with it, the fall of your world soon after." He turned to Magda. "You already know how you died. Perhaps, by then, the war was already lost. But I held on. For fifty-seven years, I watched as our enemies consumed world after world. I saw angels descend from the edge of heaven, only to fall at the hands of demons. I watched as brother turned on sister, saint against saint, while others gave up and fled, consumed by despair.
"And still, I held on. I watched them ravage everything, unsatisfied, rapacious, tearing apart the very fabric of reality itself… while I fought, and ran, and hid and observed.
"As the Saint of Time, my abilities were… limited. My perks were tailored for one purpose, to give me this second life, my memories intact. A second chance for reality itself. Knowing this, I learned. I studied our enemies, dissected our failures, traced every misstep that led to our defeat. I trained. I prepared. I envisioned a path to survival. And now, here I am, this time, as the Sword Saint, to stop our greatest losses before they can happen again..." His voice hardened. "...And to win. Because we can win. We must win.I need your help, now, and, perhaps for the rest of the Bellum Existentiae… if you believe in my mission."
Cassandra’s chest rose and fell in heaving breaths, calculation warring with the sheer magnitude of his revelation.
Debryn simply gaped, open-mouthed, clearly caught off guard.
Magda, by contrast, took most of his words in stride, though something about the angels made her frown as a flicker of unease crossed her face.
Aaron exhaled. “I’m not expecting lifetime commitments from you right now, but you wanted the truth, and those were the best answers I could give.” He glanced between them. “We don’t have long, so prepare yourselves, and unless the questions are pressing, save them for when we’re somewhere secure.” He turned to Magda. “Can you sense anything?”
She tilted her head, her expression turning distant. “Yes… something that doesn’t belong. Faint. Maybe only a few miles out, if we’re lucky.”
Aaron nodded, a renewed urgency settling over him. “Then lets go.”
4 5 chapters this week.
Debryn Villeneuve character reference
