A fog made the boundaries of this enigmatic domain unknown, surrounding the shallow sea as he walked in awe and caution. Occupying the mystical lair were more statues that were deprived of faces, some missing limbs and some propped up by nothing but the air itself.
It seemed disconnected from the area he had come from; remote from the darkness, unfitting of something that existed underground, yet eerie all the same–perhaps more so.
'What is this place…?' He questioned.
Nothing about it made sense; there was a part of it that felt hauntingly beautiful, though he couldn't help but feel that he had entered something he shouldn't have. The chills that crept along his skin, the rise of goosebumps on his body, and the tingling up his spine allowed no doubt in his mind: this was a place connected to Primordials, in some way or another.
In the near distance, he found a point of interest–there was a large, broken wall that stood, seeming to be etched with letters and symbols he couldn't make out from where he was. However, what he found is that he wasn't alone here; there was one person sitting in front of that wall, looking upon it silently.
"--" He stayed silent, slowly approaching as he remained wary.
The ambience of the fantastical, eerie territory was filled by the sound of distant waves, though none could be seen throughout the shallow sea. It didn't feel like an "evil" place, nor did it feel benevolent or welcoming; it was mystifying. The only thing he could liken the feel of it to was the Quandary bridge he had crossed—that vague realm between life and death.
As he walked by the faceless statues, he could feel a prying gaze watching him, even devoid of eyes. On the palm of his hand, he could feel the six-pointed star seal heating up, burning as he looked at it briefly.
The way that the seal that represented his contract with his Soulbound Spirits heated up as if a brand was pressing against the skin of his palm felt as though his spirits were trying to forcibly manifest, but were unable to.
Still, he pressed on, finding himself seeking answers, even if it meant confronting that which he would rather not.
"You're here."
–He stopped in his tracks as the shallow water swished around his boots, stopping as the figure ahead of him spoke. It was hard to tell if the voice belonged to a man or a woman; an androgynous, but gravelly voice as if the speaker's throat was worn out.
They hadn't turned to face him, still looking towards the ominous wall without having moved an inch.
"What is this place?" He asked.
Slowly, the figure stood up, wearing tight, black pants and a sleeveless shirt of the same shade with pale arms covered in burn scars. The slight, but lightly muscular build of the figure gave him an idea of their gender, though it was confirmed as they turned to face him.
"A seal," the stranger answered.
There was no doubt that what he looked at was the fair face of a woman, though the upper, right side of her face was also burned; she had short, silver hair and eyes that looked tired.
'A seal?' He thought.
What was more pressing on his mind was how the figure had greeted him, prompting him to ask another question, "...You spoke as if you were expecting me. Who are you?"
The short-haired, scarred woman looked tiredly towards him, looking up and off into the distance unseen by the fog, "That's right. I did have a name. It's been a long time since I've spoken or even thought of it."
There was something off about the way the scarred, muscular woman composed herself, seeming disconnected and unfocused, as if having spent countless time engrossed in something else.
He couldn't hear what she had whispered, though he didn't need to as the mysterious woman made eye contact with him, giving him the answer he wanted:
"Excelsior Mytheart."
That name brought him to a pause as the context of who he was looking at and speaking to changed, though he didn't know how to feel about it.
"Excelsior?..." He repeated the name given to him, "I–"
"You're the one that Ash-boy died for," Excelsior interrupted him.
The unexpected remark caused him to stop himself from speaking as those words sunk deep into him; already swallowed by grief, such a thing said hit him critically.
Excelsior moved closer as her steps caused tiny ripples in the shallow water, stopping as they could see each other more clearly now, "Emilio Dragonheart."
"...How do you know it's me? Why does it sound like you've been expecting me?" He asked.
The questions he brought past his lips were one that already had a potential answer etched into his mind as he was already suspicious coming in, finding the figure in such an accursed place.
"Let me ask you this first: what do you think is going on here?" Excelsior asked.
Of course, the conclusion he had in his mind was simple: the woman was aligned with the enemy. This natural thought kept his hand close to his sheathed sword, filling the air with tension as the battle-hardened woman seemed to notice his raised guard.
"I was sent here by two who called themselves the 'Children of Chaos'--what I know is that they destroyed my home and took away something precious to me," Emilio answered, "I'll ask you this once: are you in line with them?"
Excelsior stared at him for a few seconds before turning her gaze towards one of the faceless statues that neighbored them, "What do you believe?"
"--" Emilio didn't answer until a moment later, "I believe I can't trust you one way or another. I can't seem to trust anything in this land."
"Good answer," Excelsior pointed at him.
"What?"
Though he was prepared to draw his blade at the slightest sign of the woman's affiliation being tied to the nebulous group, he instead found her quickly giving him a different answer:
"The land of Ennage is treacherous and unwelcoming in its wildlands. We're in the heart of that right now," Excelsior told him before moving closer, standing at even height with him, "I have been hunting the Children of Chaos for over a decade now."
"You have…?"
"I am not your enemy; we share a common one–the Children of Chaos are a force of evil that seek our kind out–'Reincarnators'. If you're wondering why, all I can give you is my best guess," Excelsior said.
"And that is?"
"Our Systems. They bypass the natural laws of this land and can access power beyond normal limitations. What the Children of Chaos seek is that power–for reasons I haven't uncovered yet. They're not only elusive, but they're eager to die rather than rat out their ideology," Excelsior told him, "If you're hoping I can tell you all about the Children of Chaos, don't get your hopes up. They're still an enigma to me, even now. Though what I can tell you is that, without a doubt, they're the enemy. They've taken a lot. Not just from you or me. Death isn't even a punishment for them–they're beyond just evil."
He could tell as he listened to the woman and watched her pace along the shallow water of the unknown domain–she was thoroughly tired, though from seeming years of stress.
"You said this place was a 'Seal'--for what?" He asked.
"A Primordial," Excelsior answered.
"--" Emilio's heart skipped a beat.
The woman looked towards the nebulous wall in front of both of them, "An aspect of a Primordial, to be clear. I know you've had your fair share of encounters with them–so you know that it's best if it stays sealed."
"Yeah…How do you know all this? About me, I mean," he asked.
It was a fair question, especially considering the fact that it sounded as if Excelsior had a deep understanding of the trials he had gone through despite no possible way of having perceived any of it.
"The Atlan Oracle," Excelsior answered.
"Oracle?"
Excelsior looked at him, "There is a lot you don't know about this world," she continued, "the Oracle foretold your arrival here, so I came by early and found…this."
That was the question of the hour still; the existence of this Primordial-binding seal was something otherworldly in itself, and downright horrifying in some aspects.
"Asher told me to find you," Emilio said, "but why were you looking for me? Why does everybody seem to want something from me?"
"Ash-boy was strong, but he wasn't ready to face something like Dread yet. That's my fault–as his teacher."
The words that came from the silver-haired woman caught him off-guard, "Wait, 'teacher'--you mean you taught Asher?"
Excelsior didn't answer, seeming to hold a sadness in her veteran gaze as she staved off any chance of tears before changing the subject back, "You asked what I wanted with you? I don't know yet, to be honest."
"Huh? Then why–"
"What I do know is that the Children of Chaos really hold you to a high level of importance. Maybe not "you' perse, but what lived within you–the Dragonheart's strength," Excelsior said, pointing her finger against his chest, "My goal is to fuck up their plans. They've antagonized me and others like us for too long. I figure keeping you out of their hands and teaching you how to fight back against them is a pretty good way of doing that."
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