The vast expanse of sky above the mortal realm shone with stars. The pale moon was bright above the village. The usual bustle about the village roads was nowhere to be seen. A beautiful silver light fell upon the uneven rows of huts, but a faint shadow began descending upon the walled-off village.
The light from the stars and the moon was soon completely overshadowed by the faint wisps of mist that curled atop the village, hanging low like a dense fog. Slowly, the dark mist began spinning until it formed a ring around the angel monument that stood in the middle of the village. The angel, made of a pure white stone that, on normal days, would shine with a white glow like a deity from the sky, darkened until its shape became obscure.
The breathtaking statue split in half, down the middle with the main line branching off until sections of the angel began to fall. As the stone crumbled, a purple light emerged from, where the villagers would have recognized it as, the core of the angel. The light spiraled into what mortals would call a portal. The light emitted a faint glow of mystical colors, from lavender to midnight blue to twilight. And from the spiral of colors emerged a figure.
Under the cover of the night, a dark figure walked the streets of the village. The figure was cloaked and hooded in stiff clothing, yet it did not restrict his swift movement. If one were to peer under his hood, they would see a face that resembled those of a man. If he were to take off his cloak, one would see a body that is similar to a man's. The only difference was his eyes. If one were to wait patiently, one would see him open his eyes. These irises were the most beautiful color, a pale baby blue with a pale white pupil. Beautiful, but deadly. Those eyes were what marked him apart from man. It was proof of his unique blood.
And, presently, he stopped at a door. Upon it was carved the word "Samara Compromissum". A faint twitch of the lips could be seen from the man. 'Oh, my dear sister is as cheerful as always. What a beautiful way to greet visitors; "Bitter Compromise".'
"Sister, I've arrived."
The clean face of a woman emerged from the doorway. "Brother. You've finally come," the woman said after catching a glimpse of the pale eyes underneath the hood when the man tilted his head backward.
This said, the door was opened wide, allowing the man a path inside the small and modest hut. The hut itself had not a lot to see. Inside, the first thing that greeted the man was a small, cluttered space. It served as a family room, of which was decorated with a simple table and 4 exquisitely carved chairs. Lining the wall opposite the door was a stone fireplace, small and snug with a hearty glow of a cooking fire. A small window was carved out next to the fireplace. It did not have the usual glass pans present in the usual urban house; instead, it was just empty, but to keep out critters and bugs, there were wooden shutters that was currently tightly shut. The right wall of the main room was completely covered in shelves. The wooden slabs were filled to every inch with bottles of medicine, baskets of herbs, and jars with strange creatures; at least, strange to the hooded man. And to the left wall, there was a doorway. If a visitor was to stray past it, they would encounter two rooms, one for the two children, a boy and a girl, and the other for the woman and her husband.
However, this man did not.
He then turned his gaze to the woman standing to his side. This woman, whom he had addressed as "sister", had grown. Or, more specifically, aged. But his lips curled; despite her age, she still retained her beauty. She really was a rare beauty, her figure was exquisite and even women would not be able to turn away from her looks, not to mention men. However, her beauty did not make men want to charm her, nor did it give men any indecent thoughts about her. Instead, when mortals gazed upon her, it gave them the urge to bow down to her, to worship this woman who possessed a body that would rival the goddess of beauty. This was all due to her aura. Even though she was well known throughout the village for her expertise in medicine, she did not possess the aura of an angel. Her aura was domineering, one that gave her the air of a reigning monarch. Despite the fact that she seemed to hail from a humble village, in no way would she lose out if one were to compare her to the women from the urban sectors of the realm. Naturally, inborn beauty cannot compare to artificial appearances.
"Sister, are you ready?"
The woman's face turned gloomy. Even when speaking if such a thing, the man's face did not reveal any pity or sympathy. To him, a mage who held so much power in Lacrimae, known as the realm of the angels to the man and the woman, these lives were not worth even an ounce of his feelings.
The man, seeing his sister's hesitation, reprimanded sharply, "You are not thinking of disobeying, are you? Have these years in this realm turned you soft?"
Hearing this, the woman's gaze hardened. She clenched her jaw while replying, "No, brother, I dare not. The Magister is not a mage that I can afford to provoke. However…" Her voice trailed off. A soft gaze that the man had never seen before merged in her eyes. She stared in the direction of the rooms and sighed.
"You're afraid for her?"
"...yes," the woman answered. "You'll never understand, brother, because you have yet to have children of your own."
Ignoring the woman's comment, the man motioned to the woman. "She'll be fine. After all, at the very worst she will be crippled. According to the data acquired, there is close to no chance that she will perish in the passage."
The woman clenched her fists, steadying her heart. She tried hard to suppress the fear that had rose in her heart when she opened the door to see not a villager but her brother. Even knowing that the child would be fine, she still had a lingering fear that something would go wrong. After all, it was close to no chance that the child would perish. Not a definite chance of survival.
"I understand." The woman knew that she could not delay any longer else the casting may fail. And if the casting failed...then the siblings would have provoked the wrath of the Magister, and those who had angered the mage previously had never had good endings.
"The core?" The man asked with his hand outstretched, clearly waiting for the woman to hand him the item he had called the core.
With pursed lips, the woman quietly left the family room and slipped into the second bedroom, her bedroom.
The room was bare, no excessive furniture nor any works of art that would be deemed as pleasing to the eye. Situated in the left-hand corner of the room, there was a bed. Small, but big enough to fit two adults. A thick blanket was spread out over half of the bed, but it only covered one person. The other side of the bed was empty, cold and desolate. That was where the woman was supposed to be, asleep with her husband, not what she was about to do.