The Emperor's Daughter

Chapter 1: The Fall of an Archmagus

The air in the execution chamber was heavy with the scent of fear and anticipation. The room was dimly lit, and the flickering, mana stone powered lamps a cast eerie shadows along the stone walls. Amara Sternes shook as her mind wandered. She stood upon a raised platform at the center of the chamber, her entire body bound in enchanted mythril chains that glowed with an ominous energy. They were meant to seal her mana, she knew. It would prevent her from being able to cast any spells to escape.

However, within, it felt as if something else was also happening to her. Was there some other enchantment on the chains which caused her mana veins to disperse as well?

Amara couldn't help but wonder how she had gotten to this mess.

    She had been well respected once. Admired even.

"Amara Sternes, Archmagus of Eliterra." She squeezed her eyes shut as a priest read off her supposed crimes.

"You stand accused of the murder of Her Majesty the Dowager Empress Gloriana Artequetius v Solizantian, and the attempted assassination of His Majesty the Emperor. As the evidence of your involvement has been established, you are hereby stripped of all titles, lands, and holdings, and sentenced to death, by imperial order of His Majesty the Emperor. Do you have any final words?"

"I-I'm I-innocent!" She stuttered out. "I have been framed. I would never have harmed their majesties!"

Amara turned toward the dais where the emperor sat perched on his throne surrounded by his many knights and vassals. However, when her pleading gaze met his, she only found a cold distance. Did he truly no longer believe in her?

"Your Majesty, I beg you, please investigate this matter again. This isn't right!"

When Amara had first become aware of her abilities as a mage and joined the magic tower, it had been the Dowager Empress who had sponsored and taken care of her when she had nothing. The Dowager Empress had been well known for her altruism and had been deeply involved with molding the minds of bright young mages. It has been no different for Amara, who had grown close to the Dowager Empress over the years, having even fostered something of a mentor-mentee relationship. And during the Great War against the Tyrant Emperor, it was His Majesty the Emperor who -then only the prince of a small vassal nation- had saved her life when she was on the receiving end of an enemy's blade. Amara had nearly died that day, but that small act of kindness had earned them a lifetime of loyalty. She had nearly lost her own life returning the favor. It tore her heart to know that she had lost his trust.

The priest stared down at her in distain and moved to stand before her, blocking her view of the emperor and his retinue.

"The evidence presented has been verified. Kneel and accept your sentence, Archmagus Sternes."

Amara's body was battered and bruised, the result of relentless beatings she had endured in the days leading up to her trial...or lack thereof. Her once vibrant blue eyes were clouded with pain and resignation. If His Majesty would not hear her, then all hope was lost. The weight of the accusations hung heavily upon her as she struggled to get her body to do as the priest demanded.

Then, Something heavy struck the back of her legs, causing her fragile body to collapse to the cold stone floor beneath her. Her head stuck the ground with a loud 'thunk', nearly causing her vision to go dark as bile to rise in the back of her throat. She struggled to rise again with the heavy chains wrapped around her, and the executioner seemed to lose all patience. Grabbing her by the hair, the executioner dragged the half-dead mage to the chopping block. She fought to hold back her tears at the pain.

As she was laid over the block, gasping for breath, the crowd that had gathered to witness her execution moved closer, murmuring with a mix of curiosity and bloodlust as they moved in.

Like vultures to a carcass.

They had come to see the fall of the Archmagus, to see the commoner woman who had risen from the depths of obscurity to become one of the most powerful magic wielders in the empire. Images of her life flashed before her eyes - the small village where she had grown up, the struggles she had been forced to face after Eldermere was destroyed by the first demonic beasts wave, and the discovery of her unusually high capacity for mana. She had trained tirelessly, honing her skills, and had eventually caught the attention of the Magic Tower. They had taken her in, nurtured her talents, and with the support of the Empress Dowager, she had risen through the ranks.

She had shed blood, sweat, and tears for the empire.

Now, it seemed she was only a mere pawn in a game of power and politics, a scapegoat for the sins of the powerful. Even with all of her magical talents, Amara knew that these nobles had never -and would not ever- see her as an equal to them. Perhaps at one time she may have hoped, but now she was paying for her ignorance with her life.

In the crowd of onlookers, Amara noticed something. At this point, the pain she felt was so blinding, she wasn't sure if she was delirious or not, but she had noticed it. Strikingly familiar, red hair floated amongst the audience. Not many people in the empire had that coloring, and it was even more rare in the nearby territories. There were even fewer who had access to the imperial palace. Amara knew of only two people who did, and one of which was a mere stable hand and would not have been able to attend her 'grand showing.'

    She squinted, forcing herself to focus between the dizzy spells, and met the eyes of her mage apprentice, Jerrod Sterling.  Her jaw dropped in surprise.

Jerrod was a 6th circle mage who was on the cusp of becoming 7th circle. He was the empire's most powerful mage behind only Amara herself. At 23 turns, Jerrod had great promise and was already at a level, most people took a lifetime to achieve. He had been an orphan, like herself, and they had instantly bonded when they were assigned to the same unit in the Mage Corps Unit during the great war. Amara thought of him as a cute, younger brother, and after the war, when she became master of the magic tower, he had become her apprentice. They had spent many years together. He was her family. However, as she stared at his soft features, that now twisted into something much darker than his usual jovial appearance, her stomach turned.

He couldn't have...Could he?

A small smirk seemed to curl at the corner of Jerrod's lips, as if he knew what she was thinking, and realization hit her like a ton of bricks. A rage unlike anything she'd never felt before, began to bubble in her chest.

The executioner raised his axe, but her gaze never left her conniving apprentice. As the axe began its descent, Amara swore a silent oath. She swore vengeance upon those who had wronged her, upon those who had torn her life apart. She swore it upon her mana-heart. Whether in this life or the next, she cursed them. Even as the world around her faded to black, she clung to her vow.

But then, in the darkness, something shifted.

Small white orbs began to circle Amara. She watched them in confusion. Wasn't she supposed to be dead? Or was this the afterlife? She felt no pain anymore and the only thing here seemed to be herself, the darkness, and the orbs.

They were unlike anything she'd ever seen, but for some reason, they gave her a soft, warm, fuzzy feeling. It was almost like being embraced by a lover. Amara could tell the orbs were mana of some sort, but they didn't seem follow the same rules as the mana she had always known. They moved much to erratically for that.

Mana typically flowed through the aether -and all living things- much like a river. It could flow in many directions, but it moved more like continuous rivers and streams that branched off from much larger rivers and streams. As a mage, she could draw a bit of mana from those streams or rivers, to force changes in the natural world, but from beginning to end, all mana came from the source and returned to the source.

Everything was interconnected. However, these orbs floated freely, as if unbound to anything. One of the orbs broke away from the cluster that circled her. She watched curiously as it began to strobe in a myriad of color, then fall towards her chest. She panicked -momentarily unable to move- as the orb landed on her, then disappeared into her body.

Amara's consciousness slipped away again. And then there was nothing.