Magic was the most powerful of weapons, not because it could be decisive in a war, but simply because it could cause one.
The noises continued to resound, again and again, the next one more deafening than the last, the combatants trying either to flee the battlefield or to take part in its chaotic dance. The elements were intertwined and no one, at that very moment, could really say what they were fighting for, let alone who would win.
And yet, the dawn of peace was at hand. The dawn of a new world. The dawn of a possible new chaos.
War had been raging between the kingdoms of Kaelor and Parvana for almost 100 years. The conflict was rooted in a dispute over resources and territory that now made little sense. The two nations fought out of pride, ego and because neither would yield before the other.
The battlefield ranged from the most powerful magicians to the weakest. There was one rule in war, and no one could deviate from it.
"All awakened persons over the age of 16, at least at the Latent stage, are called to the battlefield, even if they aren't scar bearers and thus not undergone a second awakening."
Cristael fought alongside her allies. The old woman knew that for a woman of her age, being confronted with such atrocities had become part of her daily life. She had been born during the war, and she doubted that she could end her life in an atmosphere of peace.
Cristael was getting older, but her spells were still among the most powerful in the kingdom. What pained the woman was not having to fight, but seeing her beloved students face and deal with these atrocities. That wasn't why she became the head of Orpheion. She wanted peace.
But peace never comes without consequences.
Everyone fell, and despite the might of the nation of Kaelor from which she came, losing her beloved students, friends and more was no longer bearable.
"ADRIANNNN!"
Another one. A young woman rushed to the young man who had just fallen at her feet. This woman, hugged the man who had just sunk under a shot of magic. Crying again and again, she screamed again and again.
"Adrian... Adrian don't leave me!"
Cristael then recognized the man who had just fallen was her former student, one of the brightest. Another had just perished, when was this going to end?
The days passed, one longer than the previous one. Cristael no longer hoped, she wanted to save them all. Was it no longer enough to be a Transcendent magician?
Then one day, everything changed: on this battlefield, where blood, sweat and tears had been shed, a new hope was born. The crowd stirred and a soldier ran up, shouting, tears in his eyes.
"The peace treaty has been signed! We are free! We are saved!"
The crowd went wild with joy, not knowing what to make of such crazy news. Cristael was distracted by another sound.
A baby was crying. Screaming.
Amid the cries of joy and happiness, no one seemed to be paying any attention to this child.
Wrapped in a blanket and poised amidst the chaos and dance of fire that dotted the air all around. A child was there, in the middle of this hell.
Cristael rushed towards him. This time she'd save him, he'd never have to deal with such atrocities, she wouldn't let her people die again.
"Devion, divine child. Devion Boëlthorn."
She took him in her arms, holding him close. Tears flowed as a child after so many years of resistance. Peace was here, calm was returning.
The war was over.
The child gradually stopped crying. He now had a family, he was no longer alone. He would never be alone again.
All was well.
Everything would be all right.
Wouldn't it?
Cristael uncovered the blanket covering Devion's face. The child had beautiful big green eyes and raven-black hair.
But what Devion possessed most of all was a scar running from the bottom of his left eye to the bottom of his cheek, in the shape of a tear.
The young boy possessed the mark of the second awakened and looked no older than a year.
Scar bearers underwent this second awakening around the age of 10, whereas the first awakening usually appeared around the age of 6.
Cristael held a double-awakened infant in her arms.
After a promise of peace and protection, the old woman held a young boy who seemed destined for so much more. Even more than peace.