A World for "One"

What felt like a dream. He observed Roselyn's life as though he was a ghost. Witnessing as time bent seemingly to his will. In a matter of time, he witnessed many her life play out before him.

Midst of his confusion, wondering what is happening. Her life was summed up to him.

He watched as she got married at the late age of 17, to a suitor from afar that travelled years to marry her. Showing merely her fingers secured her marriage. 

However, her new life did not feel all that different. As a veiled princess, a binukot, her husband had to attend to her at all times. She had hoped— changes, even small were to occur. Yet nothing...

Until— changes did. As she moved to the place of his husband, a city built near the shores. She broke out of the endless cycle of mastering and remastering their cultural heritage. There she saw the art of war. 

In so, she studied the Art of War.

All was well until one night. The sky stayed still, the ocean barely made any sound. It was the most silent night since the last bloodshed.

And so, on a ship beyond the horizons— people came.

Ships unfamiliar to them, architecture of a faraway land— with intricate designs, there were many; they were alarmed. Artillery unknown to Roselyn, she and her father-in-law worked together, along with the other powerful people in their city.

Early morning hours. They strike.

People beyond their lands invaded by ship. Iron orbs engulfed in fire bombarded their shores. In retaliation, bow and arrows were shot by the distance.

As the ship grew closer and closer, the clouds became ominous. As though responding to the current conflict, the sun hid in the clouds embrace.

It was war.

With the ancient folk tales, battles with significant value always had the power to turn to darken the sky. It's as if the sun did not want to watch the bloodshed that is about to take place.

Or, it was a battle not worth of the Sun's attention.

As the bombardment grew closer, ease became unrest for the people. The Babaylan stepped into the front line, the appointed spiritual leader and healer for the city— she wore a thick robe, adorned with red and gold. With the chieftain, she looked at the looming war that is about to start. 

"Troublesome..."

"Where is Roselyn?" she asked the chieftain

"Are you sure you are going to the front lines?" 

"What are you implying? I'm old?" She replied

"Well, you are in a cane, but I suppose it does not hurt to have an old friend here then."

The old woman chuckled

"...She is at the center of the city. I left her in charge of the countermeasures" He replied.

"A victory without our people will be no victory, hmm yes?" 

She flicked her hand— and in an instant, gust of wind from their backs rushed towards the open sea. In which the hundreds of cannon balls swung back to their ship.

However, reacting fast a barrier was cast within them. Protecting them from the redirected bullets. 

On the other side, at the center of the city. The panic eased— as they gathered and sat in a circle. The ground scattered yellow and red sand, in a circular pattern adorned with different symbols leading to the center— and there was she.

It was a ritual.

"Apolaki, I invoke the tribunal dance of the Sun."

The seven gongs struck, flutes tuned, and string instruments sung. She danced on the circle. Elegant movements evident by years and years of study, her wrists flicked as her body turned, her legs swift yet steady— her body as light as the leaves dancing in the wind, following the rhythmic patters the ballad played— her clothes following her lead, creating a benevolent silhouette under the streaks of light amidst the cloudy skies.

As the bombardment grew near, so did her tempo. She danced and danced— the circle of sand began to glow— beginning to melt; liquid glass spread throughout the circle, as she danced within.

Her eyes was closed— her steps collided with the melting glass yet she did not flinch. It did not burn. Her steps scattered the melting glass, her feet began to glow— what seemed like tattoos— patterns ablaze with the different hues of fire enveloped her rich brown skin. As the melting glass evaporating into white, fragile letters made of light, the circle in which she danced in became a sea of language, floating up into the air and opening the way for the sun.

Amidst the winds of war, the sun was being brought forth.

The sun shined brightly, peeking through a hole in the clouds in which the dance of the Sun was performed, it enveloped the city in its light warm embrace. As the horn sung— the invaders came ashore, their feet stepping into the shallow waters of the long beach. The low rise of water gave a disadvantage of having to travel by foot— free from the embrace of their ship's protection.

Enveloped by the sun's embrace, the hundreds of warriors of the Village glowed— their rich brown skin enveloped by glowing tattoos, seemingly ablaze with different hues of fire— it was the 'blessing' of Apolaki.

 "Your daughter has done us well..." the old woman muttered.

"Indeed she has, now let us protect our home" the chieftain replied.

"May the three heroes of Ibalon bring guidance to my men." He said under his breath as he took a large horn, adorned with intricate details seemingly made out of copper. The horn sung in a large echo in which he shouted a battle cry.

The gloomy sky clashed with the sun's ray. battalions from ships unknown to them came— and so did their men. An unusual cry came from what seemed like the mother ship, it was a song.

The invaders have used their "arcanum." 

The sight laid before them, it was as though the song, was sung by a queen —the arcanum empowered by the night, an aria of rage and destruction.

The song enveloped each invader with black feathers, shadow filled— and darkness lingering swords swung by each and every soldier. Clashing with the sun empowered men— ablaze in their spirit.

"There! That, is that what that woman meant? The perceiver of Fables."

And right there, the girl that once appeared holding papers— with a translucent veil on her hair, her light footsteps stepping in the air. She held his shoulder, her hands glowing upon contact.

"Watch carefully." She said, pointing at the chieftain.

Her lips appears to want to say more. But never mind. Himmel thought

 Appearing to not get an answer, his vision shifted focused on the chieftain.

In the front lines— the chieftain stood out. From an eagle's view its as though he was a bright star even among stars. His muscular body accompanied with the blazing tattoos, he swung his great sword— water evaporating as he step further into the battalion. He was focused. Yet his men were being pushed back. 

"Focus!" his loud voice echoed through the waters— reaching the ears of his brethren. As his flames grew brighter— so did theirs

Yet it was no use. The dark feathers gave them the ability to traverse in shadows— their bodies agile in their steps. Every swing of their soldiers could not kill one invader. 

His sword clashing against three faceless men— as though the shadows have consumed their features, feather and cloaked entities. He clashed more and more yet their bodies only disappear into feathers.

"This song... are these even human?" 

He took a step back— seemingly in thought 'till he noticed a crow in the battlefield...??

"That's..."

He muttered. But his thought came to an end. He pushed forward, as characters of a language so familiar to him manifested upon his breath he remembered the hymn of the three heroes of Ibalon— as though three figures physically manifested behind him— his flames grew brighter and brighter.

"That old lady is up to her tricks again, using that powerful spell..."

He charged upon them— a single swing of his sword still to no effect; he swing again horizontally, then a twist in motion— gathering every momentum only to strike down the ground. 

As multiple swords concentrated with shadow seemingly about to strike— he stepped forward swinging the sword stuck in the ground to once again strike all those behind him in a circular motion. His eyes dull in frustration he once again spotted the crow.

Upon noticing the crow it flew right by his ear— "Ignite your sword". 

His flames was already bright— he thought for a moment, and for a split second he noticed it.

His flames were being consumed little by little. Like a light being consumed by everything leaving only the darkness behind. If so... Why burn more..?

"Tsk, if that is what that woman deducted."

And so, igniting his sword required much more power. He focused on every ounce of energy on to gathering the energy amongst the wind, muttering legend once more— a mighty caster behind him with whom he can trust. The old woman with a wave of her hand brought forth the northern blue winds. 

"Taking advantage of this moody sky, no..?" she chuckled.

As the winds making contact on the battlefield, the soldiers ablaze by the sun— was being brought back to health little by little. With the wind's aid bringing the sun's warmth to the enemy, their sword began to weight. Becoming harder to swing. 

Focusing on to the chieftain, she enveloped him with winds, carrying letters on to which an arcanum would be formed. Combined with his breath— his hair glowed like liquid fire fed with fresh woods, and his sword ignited. And a single swing of his sword brought forth the faces of his once faceless enemies.

His light could no longer be consumed, instead exposes these shadowy soldiers to their physical nature. Able to be cut down.

Yet something feels amiss...

A fatal mistake...

... what is it...

The old woman shared her arcanum through the rest of the men. Finally, they are gaining ground. Pushing back the battalion that has not yet been struck, whilst the men progressed leaving no invader alive. Their swords cut down through every strike.

Yet the aria grew stronger. Higher notes, vibrato and a crescendo played out seemingly operatic in nature. It was painful through the ears as it vibrated through the shallow waters. Yet it was then too late to realize.

The stricken men slowly got up in their feet. 

They did not die.

In a ditch effort the old woman— the babaylan raised her arms, thunder in might aiming for the mother ship. Her eyes glowed in white thunder but— huh?

Her thunder was disarmed by a golden chain wrapped around her hands— to her surprise it was Roselyn. She was still inside the ritual circle within the center of the city, yet she was levitating in the air— her arms raised in the air glowing in golden light— mighty chains appeared before her light ensnaring not only the babaylan's arms but she ensnared the waking soldiers.

"That thunder would've been catastrophic, as being surrounded by the sea and water and all." She said, letting go of her arms

As she levitated further into the sky— her golden chains ensnared more and more 'dead' invaders, preventing them from waking up. She looked to her right, which laid a high cliff, giving signal to her husband— leading a battalion of archers.

She waved her other hand, and bringing them to her lips. Her hand glowed with letters and characters— and blew them towards the cliff upright.

The wind carried the arcana— and so the wind aid them. On her signal, she pointed at the mother ship.

"Pierce through them!" She cried out.

Behind the battalion of archers she them placed another group rear to them. Placing people within key points of the terrain— as the arrows fell and rained upon the mothership with the guidance of the wind and flames. The tide was finally being tilted by the aid of two arcanists.

The invaders were being pushed back— as more and more invaders struck down, more and more chains latched on to them, consuming both of her hands in the effort to entangle them all.

"It was a battle of attrition, between me, and the invaders." 

"She was confident in her placement." The little girl said.

Himmel thought of her comment— "are you her past self? Or"

She looked at him in the eyes and replied

"I am the echo of fable she left behind." she paused— "and this story you are witnessing is the very story that lead to her to become like that."

Himmel stayed silent.

She was confident in her placement. This thought echoed in his mind.

As she was lost in trance inside her mind, it was broken by an accelerando— the song amplified in its reach, this time accompanied with instruments, creating a rich, fulfilling piece yet draws worry in each listeners ears reaching even to the center. However, she was calm, clinging on firmly to her chains. Yet most of the archers on the right cliff was temporarily disassociated. Temporarily ceasing fire.

However, to her ears— doubt was slowly building up. Something feels amiss. In an epic, or a legend passed down through music— this feels as though its the final act. The crescendo, with the accelerando, mixed in with the vibrant accompaniment of instruments and drums seemingly pleasant to the ear— then it struck her.

She was falling asleep. Her head began to ring— as though the sun was seemingly blocking the effect yet even though she stood at the center of the ritual circle. It was attempting to protect her.

She turned behind, her voice loud and clear— she reached out to the rear battalion and ordered them to cast a barrier down bellow wanting to at least partially protect each front lining warriors. 

Casting the barrier to each individual warrior took less time that it should've— the old woman...

She looked up at Roselyn with a nod of approval. She helped assemble the barrier, yet something is wrong. Roselyn thought.

It was only momentary till her train of thought was broken by loud, multiple bloody screams. It was at the right cliff— the invaders climbed the tall cliff?!

The rear battalion screamed to her "They were hidden! They have a second mother ship!"

They screamed as the battalion of archers were assassinated from behind— unable to do nothing but keep casting the barrier, slipping from their senses as though they appeared right in front and strike also at the moment they arrived.

"The sun..." she thought, as her pupils dilated at the sight of their onslaught. "The cliff covered the rays of the sun. They were undetected by the embrace of the shadow." 

"Quickly, get out of there!" She shouted with a loud and desperate voice

However, it was too late. The rear battalions was also consumed and killed by the shadows. The multiple battalions strategically placed around the city was slowly being killed off at an alarming rate— worsened by their drowsiness.

She withdrew tried to withdraw the remaining warriors, but they were now too little. She ordered them to come to the center and regroup. 

Her panic echoed amongst the people, the babaylan looked up in horrid to realize. Roselyn as of now cannot cast any more arcanum— she was aware of this. She was sustaining the brilliance of the sun and the golden chains have taken both of her hands to entangle.

As the remaining men gathered around her, barely escaping the invader's blades. Seemingly at her wits end, she wanted to save all that is left. 

Sending out more battalions in the rear to re-ambush the closing invaders— but there isnt enough men. The front lines although are pushing through, but they are only held back by the undying soldier, which is held by her. 

"What more can I do..." she thought to herself.

Then for a split second, the land started to glow in thundering white— cracks from the ground started to form making its way even to the long beach.

Startling even Roselyn, at the center of it all was the Babaylan. She looked at her in dismay as she replied only with a remorseful glance. It was her last resort. The battle in the front lines staggered and eventually ceased. Filled with confusion, Roselyn shed tears, instantly evaporated reaching her cheeks— as she let go of the chains ensnaring the fallen invaders.

Like given an opportunity in a golden platter— the invaders senselessly tried to attack. But it was too late. The white light consumed everything it touched. Forcibly closing the gaze of the sun, covered by a sea of dark clouds and it started to rain.

The cracks of light let out a sea of language, seemingly floating into the sky— and as the silence of everyone reaching a deafening silence, only accompanied by the loud screech of light.

The warriors stopped fighting, taking their sword to the right of their chest, the people within the city only sat in silence, and Roselyn slowly descended from the sky with sorrow in her eyes.

And so the sky rained. It weep its people as it rained— and from the cracks of the ground intensified its glow as it spread its white through everything the land touches.

And was turned to stone.

And everything, and everyone was turned to stone.