Imperium Dragonia Incantum Act One: The Three

[Kotetsu Murasame]

Summary:

One girl stands alone against all things and even the Triumvirate must be forced to act, if those chosen as Keys will brave the War for finality...or will the calamity happen once again?

That's just the FF.net Summary. The story is set in the 30th century, around the year 3016. The senshi are no longer needed in the Sol System, because of the remergance of Neo-Queen Serenity. The original Senshi are still alive, but Serenity alas, is dead. Her daughter has succeded her, but bearing only one child. Hotaru is featured for a while, as is her new love and husband, Nazzera Rangerok. They have three children: Charsi, Chibitaru and Akara (triplets). There are also three Gods, which are known as the Triumvirate. Geminite, the god of darkness and creator of Dominaria, Nezerach, the god of light, and createor of Stratta. And of course Bahamut, the dragon god, and creator of Dragonia. That's all for the intro, now for the fic...

This is rated M15 for what happens in later chapters. I'll stop posting as soon as I get to act four, after that, you'll have to read it at the remote archive.

[Kotetsu Murasame]

Imperium Dragonia Incantum: Act One: The Three
Scene One...


She slightly brushed her soft, neon green hair back with a wave of an alabaster hand; something she did when she was nervous. “I'm the what?” she inquired with a shaky voice. Enhasa hated it when the priests talked of Prophesy, especially when it involved the other gods.

“One of the final factors, I know not what it means, but I suppose it has something to do with the end of the world.” He replied with an equal amount of unknowing, proving he was a newcomer to the part of the clergy that dealt with the Royal Family. Even the most experienced Cleric could tell you that if it dealt with destruction, it was a Rangarok.

“But I can't even do magic! How could I be one of the final anythings? Invalidity means no predestined path, doesn’t it?” She protested, her hand going back to fiddle with her hair, which was about to her hips.

“I don't make the rules, I...” The Priest tried to console her, but was cut off mid sentence. The Rangaroks were always haughty, imperious and all around just plain arrogant when ever anyone told them how things were. They never accepted anything the way it was, but Enhasa was one of the few who actually listened.

“Just follow them, I know.” Enhasa quipped, her words dripping even more sarcastic wit.

“Come now, Enhasa.” The priest said, trying to motivate her, “It’s times like these we have to stick together, all for one, and one for all, it's time to buckle up and bunker down; we are Dragonians after all.”

“Then welcome to the Dragonian cliché festival.” Enhasa Retorted, yet again with more sarcasm. She normally wasn’t this bad about insulting members of the clergy, whose ranks she was going to join in two years time. Enhasa had always questioned certain practices, and wanted to see them change. It was harder than she thought, her destiny getting in the way whenever she wanted to do something that would actually matter.

The young clergymen looked to the side, blushing slightly. The sarcasm of her mother was legendary, as was almost every one of her relatives that had been alive for over two thousand years. A Rangarok was always a record setter or shatterer what ever the case may require of someone of that most exceptional bloodline. ‘A lineage that is an exception to all the rules, that has exceptions to itself.’ The priest mused silently.

“Get over It.” she muttered under her breath. A smell approached there hyperactive olfactory cells and the priest's grey wings shuddered, he had moderately developed his wings, yet his forked tail was full grown and twitching, because of the odor.

“Evil...” they both said. This prediction came true, for who appeared before them was Meccalice, Bahamut-the dragon god’s-rival for power. Bahamut was everything a god needed to be strict, powerful but understanding. He had a silver tongue; he was cunning beyond measure, and just about everything else that you could throw in to his huge, neutral personality. He was in control of the Prime Material Plane-simply known as the Prime Material or Material-which contained all of the galaxies, planetary systems, humans and the planetary races, etc. He accompanied two other gods, Nezerach and Geminite, the gods of light and darkness-who each have a plane of existence all to themselves-they are known mostly among the planes as the Triumvirate.

“Mecca you’re not permitted to enter Rangarok manor!” Enhasa snapped as she moved into a defensive position. There was no love lost between them. The legendary blood feud between Meccalice-the Earth Dragon-and the Rangaroks-the royal family of Dragonia-had went on since Meccalice and Ba’al’s first meeting.

“Keep a mind to your own affairs, child. ‘Tis not your place to approve or disapprove of me.” Mecca reprimanded her, with a most smug tone.

“Don't call me that, Heretic! And as I said get out.” she said again, a low growl emanated from her throat

“Very well, Enhasa,” He challenged her, the malice practically bleeding from his speech, “If you have any intention of forcing me to leave, I would love to see you try.”

“Is that a threat?” Enhasa practically threw the words at him, barely controlling herself.

“No threat, ‘tis a promise, dearest of hearts.” He stated, trying to keep a straight face through his malicious glee. He loved pushing the Rangarok's buttons, every last one of them, but Ba’al-whom he had an eternal hatred for-he could not even make break a sweat. Ba’al possessed a copy of The Book of Mages, earning him the apt title “Mage King of Dragons’. The book was an excerpt from the Necricomricon; Geminite's personal book of magic, torture, scripture, and anything else he could think of at the time.

“Leave, before Grandfather gets back. It would be insurrection on your part if he were to see you here!” Enhasa shouted, her dull growl raising into an extreme roar. Her claws unsheathed themselves from the bases of her fingernails-already long, now longer from the razor sharp claws that protruded from her fingers. Her jade wings unfolded from her back, resting in a straight-up, attack position and her ridgebone and nose started to distort. Most Dragonians had the ability to use wings for flight, claws as a battle weapon and a tail for balance when flying. Few possessed the ability to take the form of actual dragons. Meccalice did not want the possibility of another rival, from his other two. If the girl is this far into changing, there might not be a way to calm her down.

“As you wish, my pretty princess.” Meccalice said. He was very adept at masking his emotions, and the fear that she might have been able to give him hell, outweighed the temptation to ‘mash more buttons’ on his favorite archenemies motherboards.

“And I'll be waiting.” Enhasa gnashed at him. She hated him, his city, and the dynasty that he cared for. Enhasa had a feeling that the fighting wouldn’t stop until one was defeated.

A circle of earthen colored light circled Meccalice, and he vanished. Enhasa's feet lost hold, and she slumped onto a nearby couch, exhausted from her spiritual struggle as her face and the rest of her body returned to a ‘normal’ state.

“You must accompany me to the temple. This has changed things for the worst of all possible ways.” The priest stated when Mecca was gone, waving his hands in an intricate pattern, and reciting an incantation, proving that he had to gain magic the hard way. The world around them blurred and spun itself into a newer form. They had just teleported, one of Enhasa’s least favorite ways to travel.

“This is not STAR TREK. Don’t do that!” she shouted at him, very disheveled from her recent warping. Teleports were not one of her favorite things; neither was the pencil pushing of those who had to learn it, which she could not.

“Yes, princess.” He replied, using Enhasa’s own sarcasm against her. If there was ever a golden moment in the life of a clergy member, that was it. He had actually caught a Rangarok off guard. He was about to press on, but stopped, realizing that there were more pressing matters at hand.

Enhasa stood up, looking at the massive temple interior walls, glistening with golden murals and the so-silent-that-it-was-deafening bustle of the Chroniclers going about their errands. A Dragonian only came here for two reasons: birth, and religious missions. Usually a Dragonian only saw this place once, but there are always exceptions...