HIGH_FIRE 5490 Share Posted September 3, 2025 Spoiler The following is a dream only visible to Iohannis Casimir Novellen (tcs_tonsils) do not metagame this ═╬═══▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰═╬═══⚜═══╬═▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰═══╬═ ═╬═︵‿︵‿︵═╬═‿︵‿︵‿︵═╬═︵ ⚖︎ ︵═╬═︵‿︵‿︵‿═╬═︵‿︵‿︵═╬═ ═╬═══▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰═╬═══⚜═══╬═▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰═══╬═ You find yourself in a city. At first, it seems unfamiliar — colourful buildings with no meaning nor relation to you. A home that felt your own, yet not quite so. A bastion. A tavern. A church. A palace. ♕═════⊹⊱✦⊰⊹═════♕═════⊹⊱✦⊰⊹═════♕ ♕═════⊹⊱✦⊰⊹═════♕═════⊹⊱✦⊰⊹═════♕ As you step through the city, some familiar faces appear, though they seem significantly younger. Princess Alysanna with her blond hair, Countess Adriana with her bright white eyes, Duchess Esfir with her age defying beauty, Lord Aurellius with his gravelled looks. Eventually you gazed upon the teenage faces of two very familiar people, Your mother and father. They were at the centre of a group of children all calling them the King and Queen of Beelian. Most of the chatter seemed to turn to nothing, the odd word getting through some audial block. Nothing else came through asides those words, they didn't make much sense alone. Everything soon changed. Almost instantly the world around you went up in a great set of flames that stood higher than your eyes could see. The sight was terrifying and as you turned to see that group of people from before, those you knew. They were gone. Nobody was anywhere, you were alone in a city that felt like a home you never had as it burnt away, ridding you of the chance to call it your home. Anything you did to help was useless, finding your body incorporeal and incapable of interacting with the world around you. A mere spirit damned to watch this place burn. Within minutes it was all rubble and ashes. Smouldering wood and dust. Portoregne was left as a wasteland, a desolate reminder of something once cherished by others. As the streets now seemed populated with bodies burnt so much they were unrecognisable, you felt yourself feeling useless. Your hands, your actions, your thoughts, in the few moments you had there, you had no ability to help. Alas the city around you was a fractured imitation of what once you would have inherited. However in the distance something stirred. Amongst ashen clouds of dirt, dust and smoke two white orbs appeared, piercing your gaze as they seemed to draw nearer and closer to you. Whether you ran or stayed put didn’t matter for the dimly glowing orbs made their way closer. Eventually from the smog came a figure, a resplendent man wearing fine golden robes with a purple cloak around him. Atop his head was an ornate crown of the purest aurum. comfortably sat upon his reddish brown locks. Despite his uncharacteristic white eyes, you know this man. He was the one who founded your line. The man who stood atop the red mount and planted his sword. “Boy.” A gravelled Balianese accent belonging to an older man would speak as he finally opened his maw. His arms outstretched to his side to point out the destroyed city around him, in all its ruined glory. “This land around is not Balian.” It seemed his voice echoed around you, booming and deafening anything that wasn’t him. “This is merely a vessel for the Balianese spirit. A canvas for the culture. A stage for its community to play.” Each word he spoke was defiant, powerful and unrelenting. “Balian only dies when their spirit of perseverance dies.” The figure's legs stepped closer and closer, the ground near its boots shifting to a luscious green colour of grass, earth renewed under it. Within a foot of you it stopped moving, an imposingly tall figure looking down upon your person. “Soon the weight of the continued perseverance will be upon your shoulders. It will be you who is responsible for protecting the Balianese people.” His hands drifted up to his cranium and began lifting the aurum crown that he wore. “You will lead our people to safety. You will bring them into a new age of Balianese strength. You will be the Father of Monarchs; just like I was.” The crown found itself travelling over to your head. It felt heavy, a new weight above you, however to wear it created a deep sense of pride in your soul. “Iohannis the first.” With those final words everything seemed to fade. The ruins of Portoregne and the figure of John ‘The Founder’ would become nothingness, a dim blackness taking over your mind's eye. It seemed the only thing that lingered were those glowing white eyes. But soon those were gone. You were awake again. ═╬═︵‿︵‿︵═╬═‿︵‿︵‿︵═╬═︵ ⚖︎ ︵═╬═︵‿︵‿︵‿═╬═︵‿︵‿︵═╬═ Spoiler Credit: Writing: High_Fire Formatting: KidKrinkles 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
tcs_tonsils_ 3666 Share Posted September 3, 2025 The heir to loss watched with wide eyes a nation was torn apart before his eyes. Yet, through the pain and tears, a brilliant golden light shone before him. Was this real? Perhaps not the people, not the images, but the words. The words had always been true… he knew this. And so, he listened the Founder speak. The child, grown, placed his hands behind his back, clasped. And Iohannis listened and began to understand. The land could only heal if he had the strength to persevere. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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