A serenity lies in the waving water of an ocean. The moon's light on the gentle waves, each ripple a soft smile and shooting sound; and on its other shore the stars, each twinkling like diamonds from their perches on the clouds.
A silence rests upon the night as it was when the sea itself slept, its beauty undisturbed by the passing moon. A perfect stillness in which to breathe and to listen – for all sounds are muffled by distance, muted by the vast expanse of space, and so even the breathing of the sea is quiet.
The sea breathes slowly, its chest rising and falling with the grace of a sleeping giant. The horizon stretches endlessly, an image painted with the hues of peace: azure blending into cerulean, with strokes of turquoise for fair measure.
Sailors speak of the Aegean's calm with a reverence reserved for hallowed grounds. They tell of mornings when the sea is so still, that it becomes a mirror, reflecting the souls of those who gaze upon it. Even the seagulls, those raucous heralds of the ocean, lower their cries as if to not disturb the quiet majesty.
But for the being over the sea, who has been flying through this endless sea with exhausting patience ever since the past two years, it is not peaceful; it is rather intolerant. A great aggravation grips her stomach at the thought of never reaching anywhere her objective.
A divine presence, with a cloak of stars wrapped around her shoulders and the crescent moon adorning her brow, she soared above the Aegean Sea's expanse, her eyes reflecting the depths of the oceans below.
In the modern era, where the gossips of magic were thought to be silenced by the roar of technology, there existed a realm where gods still surveyed the world from their thrones called Olympus, and this divine being hailed from it.
Hecate, the Greek goddess of magic, witchcraft, crossroads, ghosts, and the night.
Her mission was one of silent lookout, a quest that had consumed two years of tireless search. Among the deities, she felt a stirring—a whisper of souls that should have long since passed from the world. Her children, her champions, whose threads of life had been severed, a signature that resonated with the ancient blood, whose powers had once shaped myth.
Medea and Circe.
The other gods had felt it too—the stirrings of their past champions and blood. They sensed the echoes of Greek heroes, a ripple across the world that beckoned them from their thrones—and they watched with bated breath as Hecate pursued the trail.
Almost a year ago, there was a stirring in the old lands of Greece. Hecate was not one to sit idly by in the heavens. She was a deity of action, and when the faint but unmistakable aura of Medea and Circe's magic brushed against her senses, she knew it was time to descend from Olympus.
Zeus, with his lightning bolt in hand, and Athena, with her owl perched upon her shoulder, as well as the other Olympians observed from on high.
The presence she sought was elusive. It was as if their presence desired an anomaly that did not go unnoticed. The faint traces of their magic now pulsed with life across the seas, it led her across continents, over the rolling hills of Europe, and into the heart of a land known for its romance and revolution—France.
The gods knew not why they had emerged in France, but they trusted Hecate to unravel the unknown.
As she glided over the waters, her thoughts were a cyclone as tumultuous yet fluid as the waters beneath her.
Some time ago, that echo of a foreign magic that reverberated across the world had not left her mind. It was the first sign of a powerful magic that was not dissimilar to a reality-manipulation spell, but more astute. Whatever it was, the origin was related to the revived heroes.
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Fate/Counter Order
FantasyA human reborn in the fire of corruption, grew with a body of steel, and be the fated Hero of Justice he was meant to be. Yet, he became the Counter Guardian as he was not meant to be. In the end times, the World did not survive an eldritch onslaugh...
